Chapter 10
Kael had always been mischievous, but this time, he had gone too far. Rhydian had no idea what kind of spell the witch would cast on him, but he was certain it would take effect soon.
"Why are you mad? After tomorrow, she's going to be your wife. What's so special about hiding your name?" Kael grinned, feigning innocence. He knew exactly what witches were capable of, yet he acted as if it was nothing. Rhydian wasn't truly angry—if anything, he was curious about what kind of spell she had in store for him.
He reached for Kael's ear, intending to yank it hard as punishment for being a loudmouth, but before he could, a sudden surge of magic power exploded in the air. The sheer force of it made the hairs on his arms stand on end. It was wild, untamed—as if someone had just unleashed a massive amount of energy all at once. His sharp gaze snapped in the direction it had come from. That feisty witch—what was she up to now?
A flicker of unease settled in his chest. He hoped she was unharmed.
"Go back to the kingdom. I'll come when I'm done here," he ordered, his voice leaving no room for argument.
Kael hesitated. "I'll come with you—"
One sharp glare was enough to silence him. The boy may have been his cousin, but Rhydian still held authority over him. His mother had left him in his care, but that didn't mean he wouldn't scold him when necessary.
Without wasting another second, Rhydian took off, moving swiftly toward the source of the magic surge. The closer he got, the stronger the scent of blood became. His muscles tensed. When he arrived, his crimson eyes immediately took in the scene before him.
A body lay at the witch's feet, blood pooling around them. In her hand, she gripped a dagger—its blade slick with fresh blood. It didn't take a genius to know she had just killed the person. But what made his breath hitch was the sight of the deep wound on her stomach, blood soaking into her robes.
His chest clenched—why? He didn't know.
She turned to face him, her purple eyes blazing with rage, raw power rolling off her in waves. In that moment, she looked more like a goddess of war than a mere witch. Strong. Fierce. Deadly.
Perfect.
He took a step forward, then hesitated. Was it safe to approach? The rage in her eyes made her look as though she could strike him down in an instant. But before he could decide, her body wavered. Her knees buckled. And she collapsed.
Rhydian lunged, catching her before she could hit the ground.
"How careless," he muttered under his breath. Had she been so reckless to get herself injured already? His sharp eyes flickered down to her wound—it was still bleeding heavily. If she died here, in the vampire kingdom, the consequences would be disastrous.
The truce between the vampires and witches was fragile enough as it was. If she died under his care, the witch queen would stop at nothing to avenge her. She might even form an alliance with the dragon empire, tipping the scales of war in an unfavorable direction.
His jaw tightened. That could not happen.
Then, something unexpected happened. The body of the person she had killed suddenly began to disintegrate, turning to ash before his very eyes. A clone. The realization sent a sharp jolt of fury through him.
The dragon kingdom.
They had discovered the alliance between vampires and witches and were trying to sabotage it. This war had stretched on for centuries—too long. It was time to put an end to it.
Rhydian clenched his jaw, the unfamiliar sensation of rage boiling within him. He never let himself lose control, no matter how dire the situation. Yet, right now, he wanted nothing more than to rip apart whoever was responsible for this attack.
But first, she needed to be saved.
Without wasting another moment, he swept her up into his arms and moved, his speed surpassing that of an ordinary vampire. It wasn't long before he arrived at the kingdom.
"Get the physician. Now," he ordered sharply the moment he stepped through the gates, his voice firm and urgent.
No one dared to hesitate.
Once inside her quarters, he carefully laid her on the bed. There was no time to waste. Her wound needed to be closed immediately. And there was only one way.
Rolling up his sleeves, he took a deep breath before slicing open his wrist. His blood carried healing properties—an ability that set him apart from pureblood vampires. No one in the kingdom knew of this secret. If they ever did, the consequences would be severe.
Pressing his bleeding wrist to her lips, he tried to urge her to drink. But she didn't respond. Her face was drenched in sweat, her breaths shallow and uneven. He cursed under his breath—he couldn't let her die.
Without another thought, he lowered his head, his fangs extending. He bit into his own wrist, sucking the blood into his mouth before pressing his lips against hers. Slowly, he let the blood flow into her mouth.
She swallowed.
Relief flickered through him. But for some reason, he didn't pull away. Instead, his lips lingered, his fangs retracting as he deepened the kiss. She tasted just as intoxicating as the first time—a dangerous, addicting sweetness.
Then, suddenly—
A sharp itch spread across his skin.
He jerked back, brows furrowing. His face… his neck… his back… what the hell was happening?
A knock on the door interrupted his growing discomfort.
"Come in," he commanded, forcing himself to stand straight, unwilling to reveal any weakness.
The physician entered, an older woman with sharp, experienced eyes. She wasted no time, moving swiftly to inspect the unconscious witch. But the moment she looked at the wound, she froze.
"Your Majesty… the wound… it's healed completely," she breathed, her voice laced with disbelief.
Of course, it was. That was the power of his blood. Yet even he didn't fully understand why he possessed this ability.
"Perform an overall check and clean her up. I'll excuse you now," he ordered coolly before turning on his heel and walking out of the room.
Once outside, he moved swiftly toward his own chambers. The burning sensation beneath his skin was getting worse. The moment he shut his door, he ripped off his clothes, his sharp eyes scanning his body.
No rash. No visible wounds.
But the itching intensified, spreading like wildfire.
And then it hit him.
That little witch…
She actually cast an itching spell on him.
Damn her.