Aira, on the other hand, was losing her mind.
Breakfast came and went. Lunch followed. Then dinner. Each passing hour only fed the rising panic twisting through her chest. No matter how hard she thought, no matter how many times she paced or whispered or schemed, she couldn’t come up with anything.
So consumed was she that her anxiety became visible—chewing at her fingernails, eyes darting constantly, voice trembling as she whispered to Rymora for the fifteenth time, the same desperate question beneath her breath.
"Do you really not know of a way?" Her tone was tight, almost pleading. She had asked again for a method to kill a powerful vampire—any method. And as always, she got the same response.
A firm shake of the head.
The only time Rymora had spoken, she’d muttered six useless words: "Are you trying to get killed?" As if Aira had time for that. As if her jittery, frantic energy hadn’t already reached a fever pitch.
Now she had less than a day. Not only did she lack a weapon or a plan, but there was no escape either. No path out. No ally strong enough to fight with.
The next morning at breakfast, Aira sat on his lap, hands trembling slightly as she forced herself to chew her food. Her eyes were glassy and unfocused, her body numb with dread.
That was when she heard it—a whisper, low and deep, brushing right against her ear. A voice she knew far too well.
"Tonight. After the stroke of twelve... I expect to see you in my room."
The tone was soft, but the weight of it made her blood run cold. Her fingers clenched tight around the fork in her hand, pressing deep into the metal.
She didn’t even dare nod. Didn’t flinch. Just focused harder on the food on her plate, pretending she hadn’t heard him—though her racing heartbeat said otherwise.
She kept eating slowly, methodically, until the meal ended and Zyren finally rose to leave. Dressed in a short black dress that clung to her arms and torso but barely reached past her thighs, Aira didn’t return to her room. Instead, she turned sharply on her heel and headed toward the garden.
She was unraveling at the seams. Returning to that room would only make the walls close in faster.
The moment she stepped into the garden, her eyes swept across the grounds, searching. She didn’t care about the way Rymora kept glancing her way—what mattered now was finding someone who could help.
Her gaze landed on Clay, crouched beside a shrub, pruning flowers. Without thinking, she walked faster toward him.
"There you are!" she said with a breathy sigh, forcing a smile. "I’ve been looking everywhere for you."
She tried to keep her expression calm, though her cheeks threatened to flush under the intensity of his gaze.
Clay looked up at her, pale hair catching the sunlight, his blue eyes taking in her appearance—and her skimpy dress.
"You look well," he said, his tone warm and his smile bright as he stood and dusted off his hands. But behind that grin, he couldn’t have cared less.
Vivian was the better target anyway. And now that he knew the girl in front of him—whom he’d once thought of as an easy snack—was actually the king’s
Worse still, she’d had the nerve to poison him.
My identity’s already hanging by a thread. I can’t afford loose ends, he thought bitterly, lowering his head and returning to his task of trimming the shrubs.
"There’s... there’s something I’d like to ask you," Aira began, stealing a quick glance at Rymora. It was clear she wanted privacy, though she wasn’t surprised when Rymora deliberately acted like she didn’t understand.
So she said it outright.
"You can get lunch early."
Still, Rymora shook her head. Until Aira’s voice dropped lower, more commanding.
This time, Rymora paused. She frowned, then gave a slow bow before turning and walking out of the garden completely.
The second she was gone, Aira inhaled sharply, her breath shaky as she turned to Clay.
"I’m sure you’ve heard about the incident," she said, already noticing the coldness in his demeanor. She couldn’t blame him. Moreover, most of the lords were definitely sure she was the culprit.
"It’s hard not to," he replied dryly. "Poisoning the king... It’s honestly amazing if they were still alive." giving her a knowing look without saying anything else.
His gaze was serious, and for once, the charming smile disappeared.
Clay had only gotten close to her because he thought he could gain something. Human flesh was delicious—but if he couldn’t devour her without bringing Zyren’s wrath down on his head, then the last thing he wanted was for her to drag attention toward him.
He knew other pets had died for less. And yet she was still breathing.
"Yes. But probably not for much longer," Aira murmured, voice shaking. She didn’t have to pretend this time.
Her body trembled slightly as the fear bled through. It was finally sinking in—if she couldn’t find a way to kill Zyren, she had to escape. Find another Hunter house. Join forces.
Trying to do this alone is going to get me killed.
She leaned in closer, her tone dropping so low it was barely more than a breath, her lips hardly moving.
"I need to know... do you know any way to escape?"
Tears welled in her eyes as she spoke, her voice barely audible even to someone a few feet away—especially because it was more a mouthed plea than actual words.
If she was wrong about Clay... if he betrayed her to Zyren... she was finished.
And if that happened, she would rather die than let that monster touch her again.
Clay stilled. He looked up, surprised, his eyes briefly widening before turning away again—his gaze falling to the flowers in front of him. He said nothing.
Aira’s heart thundered in her chest. His silence felt heavier than any threat. She was just about to take a step back and tell him to forget it when she finally heard his voice.
"What do I get in return?" he asked.
His voice was gruffer than she was used to—sharper, more serious. The playful softness was gone. He raised his head, locking eyes with her, and Aira suddenly felt exposed.
There was nothing light about the way he asked the question.
And she knew... whatever he wanted wouldn’t be simple.