Chapter 7: The Crimson Courtamed

The Summons

The knock on the chamber door was sharp, deliberate.

Lora startled awake—Dorian's arm heavy across her waist, his scent still lingering in the tangled sheets.

They had not spoken of what had happened again.

The kiss. The way his mouth had claimed her—her traitorous body arching into him even as her mind screamed.

Now—cold light spilled through the windows.

Dorian was already rising, bare-chested, muscles taut.

"Stay here," he commanded.

But the knock came again—urgent.

A cloaked servant entered, bowing deeply. "My lord... a letter."

Dorian snatched it, eyes narrowing. The seal—a crimson wax crest bearing the sigil of the Crimson Court—the ruling council of the vampire lords.

Without a word, he broke the seal.

Lora watched from the bed, her pulse quickening.

"What is it?" she asked softly.

Dorian's jaw clenched. "A summons. They've learned you are here."

Her stomach dropped. "You're going?"

He looked at her, then, face unreadable. But something dark flickered in his eyes.

"No. I will not leave you."

"I don't know who to trust anymore"

He had meant every word he had said before. He won't lose her again. Not when he just got her reincarnated after a hundred years of her death.

No one would stop him.

Not the crimson court.

Not even Lucas....

---

The Spy

Later that afternoon, as Lora paced the library, still haunted by fragments of lost memories, shouts echoed from the courtyard below.

Dorian appeared beside her in an instant, eyes narrowed.

"Stay here."

He walked out at a wide speed.

But Lora followed, heart pounding, down stone stairs into the inner courtyard, where guards had dragged a struggling figure into the light.

Lora had to hide beside the walls, so has not be seen.

A vampire, thin, wild-eyed, dressed in travel-worn leathers, was brought to his knees.

A spy.

Lora gasped as the creature hissed and spat, pale fingers clutching a blood-stained scroll.

"The Court knows," he snarled. "The bride still lives! She is the key—"

Dorian's blade flashed.

Without hesitation, he struck—decapitating the spy in a single, fluid motion.

Blood splattered across the stones.

Lora staggered back—shocked. Not by the death—but by Dorian's utter calm. His cold precision.

He had killed... as easily as breathing.

Without shaking.

Something slept out of the dead man.

A second scroll, hidden within the spy's cloak—was discovered.

Dorian read it aloud to himself, face darkening:

"Bring her back to us alive. Or kill the vampire who guards her."

His gaze rose, meeting Lora's wide eyes.

So he had seen her all along.

"They are coming."

At that moment, another presence stirred within the shadows of the courtyard, in the castle.

A second figure, hooded, unseen by the guards, watched from the rooftops above.

Not one of the Crimson Court.

Someone else.

A rival power.

And Lora, her instincts flaring, felt a strange pull toward that unseen watcher... as if they knew her.

___

Secrets and Shadows

Later that evening, the castle was locked tight, guards posted at every door.

Dorian had not left her side.

Now, in the privacy of his study, Lora sat curled in a velvet armchair, watching the firelight dance across Dorian's sharp features.

The spy's blood still stained the courtyard stones.

"Tell me everything," she whispered. "What do they want with me?"

Dorian poured dark wine into a crystal glass, his movements precise, controlled.

"The Crimson Court fears you,"

They fear our daughter*.he said quietly. "And they desire you."

She shivered. "Why?"

He set the scroll between them—its ominous words still echoing.

"Because you were once their enemy, you broke the rules, Lora.. Your marriage to me was meant to unite two great houses, to secure peace. But when you... " his voice caught slightly, and he couldn't continue his statement—"the balance shattered."

Her throat tightened. "And now?"

"Now they believe you hold power that could tip the scales again. If you remember who you truly are."

A heavy silence stretched between them.

Lora's fingers brushed her wrist, where the silk-binding still shimmered faintly beneath her skin.

"I don't know who I am anymore," she whispered.

Dorianflickedy—kneeling before her, eyes burning.

"You are mine, Lora. Bride or not, they will not have you."

Her heart pounded. His nearness—his fierce protectiveness-sent warmth flooding through her despite everything.

"Even after what I did?" she asked softly.

He hesitated—then reached to brush her hair back, fingers trembling.

"I should hate you." His voice was rough. "But I cannot. You are my wife and I love you"

Her breath caught, his face so close, lips nearly brushing hers.

The pull between them, raw, undeniable, grew stronger.

And then—a faint whisper stirred the air.

Not from Dorian.

From outside the chamber.

A presence, hovering at the edge of her senses.

She rose abruptly, eyes wide.

"Someone's here."

Dorian's head snapped up, fangs bared.

Without a word, he seized his sword and flung open the study doors.

In the hallway beyond—no one.

But a shadow flickered past the high windows—too swift for mortal eyes.

And on the windowsill—a single white rose.

Fresh. Dripping crimson.

Dorian's face hardened.

"They've sent more than spies," he growled. "There is a rival among us now."

Lora's pulse quickened.

A strange warmth curled in her chest—as if whoever had left that rose… knew her.

And deep inside—beneath the silk-binding—an old hunger stirred.

Not for Dorian.

For someone else.

Later at midnight, alone in her bedchamber, Lora dreamt.

Not of Dorian.

But of another man, tall, golden-eyed, clad in a rival king's colors.

The one from her forbidden memories.

The one her past had loved.

The one who had destroyed everything she had.

Her marriage?

Her lost daughter?

Her powers?

Her throne?

Everything.

And in the shadows beyond the castle walls—he was coming.