At some point in the evening—after much confusion—Frederick found himself back in his room. Once inside, he did not delay. He did not hesitate. He retrieved his sword from his scabbard and fell onto his bed, his mattress welcoming the weight of him as the room spun with black.

He'd spent the night talking with Saebane, and the enormity of it left him feeling filthy, wrong, and vile. Frederick needed to get closer to the sorcerer to learn his weaknesses but after tonight, he no longer knew how he would be able to stomach such a task.

They'd discussed the current affairs of the kingdom. Saebane even probed into details of Frederick's marriage to Arabella.

Yes, Carnelia was gruesome.

Yes, vampyres were a different sort.

Of course, fucking Arabella was exceedingly different from fucking an ordinary woman.

She'd stayed at their feet for the entire evening, chained like a dog, listening to every word. She'd heard their vulgar exchange about her body and her bedroom manners. They'd even discussed the way she tasted. Frederick had called her incomparable.

In response, Saebane recounted their gruesome orgies from millenniums before. He'd described events and acts Arabella had supposedly taken part of—acts he wanted to submit Arabella into again when she "behaved" herself. The detail in his depraved words made Frederick want to gut him slowly with a rusty blade.

But all he could do was pretend to laugh.

And laugh.

And laugh.

As if this sorcerer was the most amusing being in all the Star.

Gods, I'm sorry, Ara.

There was no advantage gained tonight. Frederick had learned nothing new about Saebane and was no closer to his defeat. He'd never wanted to kill something more than Saebane, but he would have to become better at this game. He would observe as much of the sorcerer as he could, learn everything he could, biding his time.

Then strike when the moment became right.

And when it was over, he would ensure Rycard met an even more gruesome end to what Frederick originally planned for resurrecting this absolute monster. He would make him suffer for defiling his sister's body and for reintroducing this evil into the world.

But the person who deserved to suffer the most for his current circumstance was Frederick. Arabella was a prisoner within her own body, subject to the whims of a maniac. And he had himself to blame.

He had felt his face heating the more and more he drank, the room gently rocking. Saebane's anecdotes about the old world began to grate, his robust laughter hurting Frederick's ears. Only when the self-inflicted wounds began to itch like mad did he excuse himself and bid Saebane a good night.

Now that he lay in bed, he tried to adjust his eyes to the darkness of his room. He searched for the outline of his window, unused to the curtains he'd arranged to have installed on his last visit—when he thought he would be returning with Arabella more and more.

That hadn't happened.

He reached across and pulled the sheets over his face. The servants hadn't changed them. They still smelled like her.

His blood pulsed throughout his body, circulating like a babbling stream. The pounding in his head tonight was a direct result from drinking with the sorcerer. And gods, how he longed for Arabella. His body screamed to give her the blood she needed, his skin too tight to contain it all. He knew the longer he left it, the thicker it would become.

There was only one thing to do, and he floundered in the darkness until he found his blade.

One cut, he told himself. Just one cut to an old wound. Let the blood spill enough until you feel normal.

Until you can think.

His hands moved of their own volition, the blade biting into his skin. A shred of moonlight pooled onto his wrist, revealing the dark ooze sliding down his arm. He panted as he watched it spill—a shame. A waste. Even now his body longed to feed hers. If only he could get it to her. Share it with her.

The thought of Arabella still in that hall, kneeling at Saebane's feet, filled Frederick with vehemence.

How long would he make her remain there? Did he ever let her sleep. Would he throw her back into the dungeon at daybreak and leave her to rot in peace. The thought of her in that dank place on that stone floor ...

Was she beside herself with grief? Had she lost hope.

Or would tonight be the night he forced himself on her.

Don't think about that.

But you have to think about that.

You can never let it happen.

And yet, he couldn't stop it from happening unless he thought of something soon.

Warmth leaked down Frederick's face as he dug the blade deeper, his arms shaking as he forced himself to hold it there.

Every night, he'd been returning to his room, and every night he'd taken a blade and sawed along his skin. But he was becoming accustomed to it. It no longer hurt. No longer woke him up or sharpened his senses. He used to be able to think with an incision or two but now ...

Now he could only watch as his blood dripped and wasted. No vampyre to nourish. No use in any vein at all.

He'd become nothing.

Frederick jerked the blade from his wrist, causing a quick, clumsy spray. The place he opened throbbed and stung. He cut too deep this time and knew it.

So just die.

It would be so easy.

He slipped from the bed and fell to the floor. Life eked out of him with every heartbeat, becoming a dark bloom on the carpet. And in these moments, he could not help but think of her. Because maybe with this ...

Whatever Saebane held over her would end.

Maybe if he let himself die, she would no longer hold back. Maybe in his death, she would find the power to overwhelm Saebane and finish all of this.

Without him, she could be strong again.

I love you, she'd said the last time he was inside her. He had stopped breathing. His very heart had broken. All because he knew he was undeserving of her love and would lose it as quickly as it come.

Gods, the way he felt about her now. If only he knew how much hurt he would bring to her. How much this would kill him to watch as she was stripped of her every dignity ...

No more.

There was no reason to stay. And without him the last thing that made her weak would disappear ...

Pain snapped his cheek. Someone stood above him, shouting for him. "What have you done?"

"Father," Frederick said, unable to concentrate as he sought Urnald's likeness. "I can't ... I can't be here anymore."

I'm sorry.

Urnald disappeared from view, and Frederick was left alone in the darkness once more. He didn't know how long he remained there, floating on the periphery of nothingness. All he knew was that the warmth of his blood felt good on his cooling skin.

It wouldn't take much longer. And briefly he thought of his mother and wondered if she'd felt the same calm he experienced now when she had taken her own life.

"Frederick—Frederick."

He barely had the strength to move his neck, but he faced the sound of her voice. "Ara?"

"What happened?" she said, falling at his side. "Who did this to you."

His eyes filled with water. "I did it to myself."

Her hands took his and gripped. And for the first time he could remember, her touch felt warmer than his. "I-I'll get you through this. I can help you."

"No," Frederick whispered. "It's better if it ends now. Let me take myself out of it and let me go."

He didn't deserve to come back from this. She shouldn't have been brought here. She needed to leave instead of seeing him this way. He didn't deserve her concern. Not for a moment.

Her fingers slipped from his. They were dragging her away from him. "I can save him. Gods—I'll give you anything."

"I don't want it," Frederick bleated, meaning every word.

"You heard him." This next voice ... Saebane. Somewhere Saebane existed. "No harm came to him by my hand. He did this to himself. He wants to die. And don't you dare look at me like that! You know I can't damn well hurt him because of the sorcerer's pact I have with Urnald."

"Please," Urnald said. "If she can save him then let her save him!"

Frederick shook his head. "Don't—don't let him use me against you any longer, Ara. But you should know that I'm sorry for everything."

She screamed, thrashing within her chains. "I'll give you anything—anything. Just let me heal him!"

"Let her do it!" Urnald shouted.

Saebane ordered the guards to halt, and the silence passed over them like a chilly breeze. "What are you thinking of giving me?"

"No," Frederick groaned. "Don't do this, Arabella."

"Myself," she said. No hesitation. No uncertainty. "I'll give myself—freely. All that I am is yours if you let me save him—but you must let me save him."

"What makes you think I want you that way still?" Saebane asked coldly. Cruelly.

"Then look at me and tell me you don't."

"Arabella," Frederick rasped, his heart squashing between his ribs. "Don't."

"You have nothing more to offer me than that?" Saebane asked. "Nothing of value that I can find on Carnelian lands, perhaps."

"Is there something you want from my lands, Saebane?" she asked. "Because take it. All of it. Just say what you want."

Another painful silence.

Frederick felt himself become colder. The longer Saebane delayed, the closer Frederick was to death. He could only hope that he did not live long enough to see Saebane make up his mind.

"You let him die today—and I'll never be yours," she said, a tremor in her voice. "Never. There is nothing else you can take from me Saebane no matter what you do. So make up your damned mind. He's slipping away!"

Then let me slip away.

But Frederick could no longer speak, so he focused on the sickening slow of his own heart.

Several moments pulsed, each more laborious than the last, and still, Saebane said nothing.

"Gods, man," Urnald said. "My son is running out of time. I plead your mercy."

"I am begging you, Saebane," Arabella said. She'd never sounded so hysterical. "You grant me this, and I will never resist you again. Give this to me, Saebane, and I will never ask anything of you again. I will be your willing slave in any way."

"I don't want a slave," Saebane hissed. "I could get a slave any moment I wish. What use do I have for those?"

"Then I'll become your willing wife. You can find those, too, but you won't find matches. Equals. Not like me."

Arabella, don't, Frederick begged silently. I'll never survive it.

"You don't have to forgive me today," she continued. "But I will be yours. All yours. All my knowledge. All my possessions. All my everything. Yours."

Her words were like nails to Frederick's heart. He hadn't freed her. He'd trapped her for this sick bastard.

Saebane sighed. "Get on with it then."

"Thank you," she said repeatedly. A hand gripped his, and he sensed that Arabella was with him once more. "It will be all right."

"I don't want this from you," Frederick slurred, his body numbing with the cold.

She gave a strained chuckle. "You think this life is worth living without you in it? You absolute fool."

"Don't—" Too late. She'd pressed her wrist against his lips, her lifeblood sweetening his tongue. Only this time it didn't have its usual potency—like fine wine diluted with water. He fought against her but found no release, helpless to do nothing but succumb to the pull of her essence.

He drank from her deep, her power trickling through his body. Even weakened, she tasted delicious. He wanted to taste her forever but couldn't, and she would belong to another when it was over.

And that was his fault again.

"That's it," she murmured, cradling the back of his head. "You're going to be all right, Frederick. You're going to be all right."

An order was uttered, but Arabella gripped him tighter. "Don't," she said. "I-I have to give him more. I'm ... not as strong as I usually am. He must have more."

He yanked his head away from her wrist, eying light-colored liquid struggling to leave her wound. "You don't have enough to—"

She gritted her teeth and seized his head. "Shut up, you idiot. We are running out of time."

"Does this mean so much to you, then?" Saebane asked. "That you would give this mortal every single drop you have to give?"

She did not respond, and Frederick didn't fight as she returned her wrist to his lips.

"Why is this important to you?" Saebane demanded.

She squeezed Frederick tighter and began to rock. "I didn't kill all my husbands, Saebane. Not all of them deserved to die. I swore to myself that the prince wouldn't die by my hand. If he goes today, then I've as good as killed him."

"Ah, but you killed me, your first husband," Saebane said. "You moved on. You will easily move on from Frederick also."

"Just let me have this," she whispered. "Don't make me explain it. But I'll do anything with a willing mind and willing heart if you let me see this through. I've already sworn so. Why I want it doesn't matter—so long as I uphold my promises to you."

The grinding of Saebane's teeth signaled that he would let them have this moment, and Frederick looked up into her tired face. Faint tears streaked her cheeks, drying at her jaw. She looked so sad. So defeated. "Live, Freddie. I want you to live. There is more in you to give to this world. Don't you dare leave it yet."

An eternity seemed to pass, the strength slowly returning to his body. But he didn't want it to end, for when it did, he would never have her again. And that was something critical he should have realized when they were together.

He should have fought for her. Died for her. The same way she continued to prove she would fight for him even when he didn't deserve it.

"Arabella," Saebane said through gritted teeth.

She nodded wearily. "How are you feeling, Freddie?"

Reluctantly, he pulled away from her and licked his lips. "Foolish."

"Is that all?"

The sudden laugh that escaped him made his vision blur. "You should have let me die."

A faint smirk settled at the corner of her lips. "I know, Frederick. I know."

"Have her taken to my chambers," Saebane ordered. "Ensure she is left alone to bathe. Find her a dress worthy of a queen and have it sent to her. She is to rest but ensure that plenty of guards are posted at her door. Do not give her any blood. I'll decide where she feeds from later."

Frederick thought he would vomit back up all the blood he'd just been fed.

She closed her eyes. "I cannot express my gratitude enough, Saebane."

"You'll find a way to thank me soon. Leave him."

She ascended from the ground in a graceful swoop, and Urnald was quick to replace her position at Frederick's side. She bowed her head to Saebane, then followed the guards.

"And one more thing," Saebane called, causing Arabella and her guard to stop. But his eyes were fixed on Urnald. "The ring the king wears. I'd like to have it as thanks for getting here in time."

"Of course." Urnald complied, slipping Staff off Frederick's finger and handing it over to the sorcerer.

"With thanks. Now, Arabella, say goodbye to the king."

The look in her eyes obliterated his heart, fragments of it catching in his throat. "Goodbye, Frederick."

Frederick parted his lips but could not find the words to say. He didn't want to say goodbye. He didn't want her to become Saebane's wife. She still belonged to him the way he belonged to her. He would find a way to free her. No matter what the cost.

He would free her.

But he could say none of those things.

She left with the guards, and when they all cleared the room, Saebane turned to them. "What happened, Frederick? I thought you and I were having an excellent evening." When Frederick said nothing, he sighed. "I'll ensure a doctor and a healer are sent directly to check on His Majesty."

"Thank you," Urnald breathed, and as Saebane closed the door behind him, Frederick caught something glittering in the eyes of Saebane's stoic expression.