Chapter 56 – She is a...
Chapter 56 – She is a...
The storm had found her.
Jessica sat on the edge of the medical bed, spine straight, jaw slack in practiced stillness as the doctor pressed along her shoulder. Her back still throbbed with echoes of lightning, nerves half-frozen, but returning. Bit by bit. Enough to move.
Something shifted.
Not in the room—in her.
A twisting knot in her gut tightened suddenly, cold and low and certain.
Mana.
A lot of it.
Coming fast.
Her breath hitched before she caught it. Her eyes flicked toward the door.
It opened without a knock.
Duke Vaelora stepped through.
He didn't speak.
He didn't look at the doctor.
His son followed behind him. Others trailed in silence, noble silhouettes shaped like blades. But she didn't register them. Only him.
He was walking toward her.
Not with authority.
Not with formality.
With intent.
Jessica didn't move. Not outwardly. But inside, her senses screamed.
Bad.
She knew who he was. She'd spent time with Zyrenia. Protected her. Fed her. Of course the Duke would want to speak. Of course he would seek her out.
But this wasn't a meeting.
This wasn't diplomatic.
He was looking at her like she was something already bleeding.
And he hadn't said a single word.
That made it worse.
This is bad.
Her pulse pounded behind her ears. She kept her posture still, but her muscles tensed in sequence.
Flight.
Magic hummed beneath the floor. Earth-elemental. Active. Controlled.
A trap spell.
He was going to catch her.
Her legs worked, barely. Enough. She eased them off the bed with practiced calm, facing him as if preparing for formality.
He kept coming.
No hesitation. No pause.
Jessica leaned forward slightly. Testing balance. Reading the rhythm of her muscles.
He lunged.
And the earth magic surged.
The floor behind her rose with a silent pulse—a snare primed to rise and lock.
No.
She threw her body sideways. Into the wall. No plan. Just out.
Four floors up. No good. No choice.
The shout reached her as her shoulder hit the stone: "Stop!"
4th floor... oh well
She [flickered]
The world folded.
Color warped. Air cracked. She felt her body lurch through stone and gravity like a thread slipping through a needle.
She almost made it.
Almost.
The world opened.
Sky. Wind. Air.
And then a hand.
Cold fingers closed around her throat with the finality of iron.
He had followed her.
Not outside.
Through the wall.
His magic forced his reach beyond the stone, anchored by sheer force of will.
Jessica hung in the air, suspended by the neck, feet flailing against the outside wall of the infirmary.
There was no scream.
No breath.
Just the silence of prey caught in the moment between escape and ending.
Even in full health, she would never have escaped.
She knew that now.
He didn't come to ask.
He came to claim.
And somewhere in the back of her mind, through the choking pressure and the cold wind screaming past her ears, Jessica realized something else:
He had expected the flicker.
She had hoped—prayed—that he hadn't seen it during the duel.
That maybe, just maybe, it had slipped past him in the chaos.
But this? This grip? This timing?
He had seen everything.
_____
"Seraphina," Lucien said without preamble, pacing two steps ahead of her down the inner hall. "You need to come with me. Now."
She didn't stop walking—but her sigh was audible.
"Is this about Jessica again?"
Lucien didn't answer. Which was, of course, its own answer.
Seraphina dragged a hand down her face. "Please tell me your definition of 'urgent' hasn't degenerated into 'Jessica-related' again."
Lucien finally glanced over. "Duke Vaelora said one more roadblock would be considered an act of war."
Seraphina stopped walking.
Literally stopped.
"War."
"Yes."
She stared at the far wall like it owed her a life refund.
Jessica...
Jessica is a living roadblock.
How is this my life.
Without another word, she turned and strode with purpose in the opposite direction—toward the private ward. Lucien fell in behind her without comment.
"She briefly considered the Prince. It would be his responsibility, too, if he could be bothered to lift his gaze from ceremonial duties. But a guest Duke from a rival throne had lost his daughter, was threatening escalation, and she needed someone with actual command experience.
"Get the Headmaster," she told her nearest attendant, voice clipped and controlled. "Now."
Because no matter how high her rank or how sharp her training, even she knew:
They were rapidly running out of ranks high enough to absorb this fallout.
And Jessica Moran was somehow at the center of it.
Again.
___
Her cheek scraped across the outer stone wall, dragged awkwardly as he shifted her angle midair. Her jaw pressed against the coarse texture. One nail's edge nicked the edge of her ear as he adjusted his grip.
Intimidation.
He had me like a trapped rabbit, she thought, calm even as her body dangled in open air. And he's trying to scare me?
She blinked once.
He's not going to kill me... yet.
A sigh escaped her lips—gurgled and ugly, muffled by the pressure of her face against the wall.
She felt the wall shift.
He was using magic to open it, drawing her back inside.
Not killing me, then.
Definitely using me.
Probably.
Then she saw his eyes. Still feral. Still appraising. His gaze locked with hers as she turned her head just enough to meet it.
She wasn't afraid. Not anymore.
And for a moment, that seemed to annoy him.
His lips curled.
He looked almost insulted.
This girl...
From behind, Sevrin took a step forward.
"Father... shouldn't you at least speak to her before—"
The Duke silenced him with a glare sharp enough to draw blood.
Sevrin fell quiet. But his hands curled slightly. His instincts screamed.
This is wrong.
Then, with no warning, the Duke drove his fangs into Jessica's neck.
She felt the puncture first—sharp, mechanical. Then the heat. Something pushing into her bloodstream, carried fast and deep.
Her heart stuttered.
Not from fear.
From the force of the magic lacing through her veins.
Royal vampire blood magic. A command spell.
It was meant to seize her body. To force compliance. The signature technique of royal vampires meant to dominate noble vampires, lesser vampires, and dependents with absolute obedience.
Twenty-four hours. Total surrender.
Her pupils were supposed to constrict. Her spine to lock. Her limbs to brace.
But then... they didn't.
They dilated.
Wide. Uncontrolled.
Her body sagged.
Wrong.
Everything about it was wrong.
The door opened hard.
Lucien. Seraphina. Both stepping into the room at speed.
Lucien stopped cold.
Seraphina froze.
Jessica hung limp in the Duke's arms, his fangs still in her neck.
She wasn't obeying.
She wasn't resisting.
She was reacting like prey.
Lucien's magic flared. Wind gathered. His expression twisted into fury.
Seraphina looked between them, confusion boiling into horror.
Is he turning her? Killing her? Just feeding?
She didn't know vampire magic. But she knew Sevrin's face. She knew how a court reacts when something breaks protocol.
The entourage looked embarrassed.
Sevrin looked like he wanted to be anywhere else.
And the Duke—
Still hadn't moved.
Still hadn't drunk.
Still had his teeth buried in Jessica's neck like he forgot he was supposed to be in control.
Because it wasn't working.
She wasn't a vampire.
Not at all...
And now she was sedated... for the next 24 hours
Lucien's hand twitched.
Seraphina finally looked away, lips tightening.
How do you even mess up getting bitten...
Of course.
Jessica.