Chapter 15 – Blood and Boundaries

"Get up."

Lena groaned, rolling over in her bed as the Night King's cold voice sliced through the early morning stillness.

"I'm serious. Get dressed. We're heading to the eastern border. Reports came in—some trespassers crossed into the Vampire Rift, and they're carrying forbidden relics."

Lena peeked one eye open. "Can't you go without me?"

"No," he said flatly. "Leaving you here alone is unsafe."

She smirked sleepily. "Aw… so you care about my safety?"

The Night King narrowed his eyes. "Dress. And bring your bow. We might need it."

***

Within the hour, they were deep in the dark woods near the eastern border. Mist hung in the air like old secrets, and the trees seemed to lean closer as if listening. Lena clutched her bow tightly, her instincts sharp.

"There," the Night King whispered, pointing ahead.

Three cloaked figures crouched near a glowing chest, whispering in low, hurried tones. From where Lena stood, she could make out the shimmer of something magical—relics.

Before the trespassers could react, the Night King launched forward. He was a blur of movement, incapacitating the first two with terrifying efficiency. Lena shot an arrow that pinned the third to a tree by his cloak.

"Who sent you?" the Night King growled, holding the glowing dagger one of them had dropped.

The man spat at his feet. "We serve a power greater than you…"

Wrong answer.

With a flick of his wrist, the Night King drove the dagger into the man's chest. He collapsed, lifeless.

Lena's eyes widened. "You just… killed him."

"They crossed a sacred border carrying weapons meant to destroy. Mercy is for humans. This is the Vampire Rift."

Lena felt a shiver crawl up her spine—not from the cold.

They gathered the relics: a bloodstone orb that throbbed in its own rhythm, a dagger that seemed to whisper, and a scroll sealed with black wax. The Night King carefully wrapped them in cloth.

"They'll be locked away," he said. "No one must know these were found. Not yet."

***

By midday, they were back in the palace. After lunch, the Night King retreated to his chambers for royal briefings, while Lena returned to her room to prepare for the evening banquet.

She opened her wardrobe and smiled. The red gown from the market sat gleaming like fire against silk. She slipped it on, twisting her hair up and applying just a hint of dark rouge on her lips.

As she stepped out of her room, all eyes would've turned—if anyone had dared to look. The red gown hugged her curves perfectly, flaring slightly at the hips, with delicate embroidery glinting in the low torchlight. Her long purple hair was swept to one side, and the silver earrings she picked from the market shimmered as she walked.

The Night King was already waiting by the palace gates. When he turned and saw her, even he paused. His eyes slowly scanned from head to toe.

"You look like trouble," he muttered.

"I *am* trouble," she said with a wink, taking his offered arm.

She froze as she saw what waited at the gates.

"A carriage?" she blinked. "Seriously? Don't you people have, like… cars?"

The Night King raised an eyebrow. "Would you prefer we teleport?"

She gave him a look. "Okay, maybe not. I've seen enough teleportation mishaps in movies."

"Then carriage it is," he replied dryly.

As she stepped in, still adjusting her gown, she muttered, "Next time I'm driving."

"Good luck finding an engine here," he said, almost amused.

They sat beside each other in silence for a moment as the horses began to trot forward, the carriage rolling smoothly out of the palace.

The moon rose slowly behind them as they headed toward the Boquét. Lena leaned slightly against the velvet cushion, thinking back to the forbidden relics, the fight, and the blood. But what haunted her most wasn't the danger—it was the Night King's eyes when he killed without blinking.

She stole a glance at him.

He was staring ahead, lost in thought. But then, as if feeling her gaze, he turned to her.

Something passed between them—silent, electric.

And deep in the satchel where the relics were kept, something pulsed again… quietly… waiting.