"You know how?" Aira asked, her voice laced with disbelief, the surprise plainly etched across her face.
Clay didn’t answer right away. Instead, he spoke again in a much lower voice, his expression unreadable despite the flicker of annoyance burning in his eyes.
"If I did... what do I get?" he repeated, his tone hard, the edge in his voice making it clear this wasn’t a joke.
Aira frowned, the expression forming before she even realized it. It settled onto her face as her chest tightened. This wasn’t the same Clay she had spoken to before—not that she’d known him long enough to be sure who he really was.
"What do you want?" she asked cautiously, her voice quieter now. A part of her hoped he would say something silly, something dismissive—anything that might ease the weight gathering in her chest.
Clay lowered his gaze, staring down at the shrub trimmer in his hand. For a long moment, he didn’t speak. His silence stretched, heavy and uncertain, until at last, he let out a short breath and a slight smirk pulled at the corners of his lips.
"Nothing. I was joking," he said at last, voice casual—too casual.
But Aira wasn’t convinced. Something in the pause, in the way his eyes hadn’t lifted to meet hers, told her it hadn’t been a joke at all. Still, for whatever reason, he changed his mind.
And she was desperate enough to take it.
Clay straightened slightly, brushing a leaf off his sleeve as he spoke again, his voice lower now and more purposeful.
"Past the servants’ hall, through the stables—there’s a spot. A gate, hidden beneath a patch of thick grass. It’s old, but it’s the path some of the servants use when they sneak in supplies or people they don’t want noticed."
Aira’s eyes lit up, her breath catching as she stared at him, hope sparking in her chest like a flare in the darkness.
"Are... are you sure?" she asked, the words trembling from her lips, heavy with doubt. The last thing she needed was to place her life on the line for a lie.
Clay met her gaze coolly.
"You say that like I have a reason to lie to you."
She blinked, then shook her head quickly, a smile tugging at her lips in spite of herself.
"If it’s true... I won’t forget this," she promised, sincerity clear in her tone.
She turned slightly, glancing around to see if Rymora had returned, eager to leave before anyone grew suspicious. But before she could move, Clay spoke again.
"You do understand the consequences, don’t you?"
His voice was calm, but it stopped her in her tracks. She looked back at him, brows drawing together.
"Yes. I know some of the servants might die for this."
The words left her mouth coldly, but her stomach twisted. She didn’t want to care. She couldn’t afford to. Her life mattered too.
Her life was just as important as theirs.
’They chose this. They knew what they were signing up for when they came to serve him,’ she reminded herself coldly, forcing the guilt down as she steeled her expression.
But Clay shook his head slowly, and the look in his eyes made her breath catch.
"That’s not what I meant," he said, stepping closer until the space between them narrowed to barely a foot. The air grew heavier.
"You are his personal pet, Aira. Vampires don’t tolerate that kind of insult. If something that belongs to them vanishes, it’s a mark of shame. It shows they can’t even keep hold of their own."
His voice dropped even lower, hard and sharp like a blade being drawn. "He’s the king. If you disappear, it won’t just be punishment—it’ll be retribution. A message."
Aira’s blood ran cold. The poisoning had already been a miracle she survived. And now, this?
"Worse than the poison?" she asked, voice barely audible.
"Three times over," Clay said without hesitation.
Her eyes widened, but she didn’t flinch. She refused to show how much that terrified her.
’Yes... but is that worse than letting him touch me?’
Her jaw tightened. Her chest swelled with tension, her heart thundering in her ears. She crushed the panic, forcing herself to stay calm.
’He’ll never find me. He won’t. ’
"I’ll keep it in mind," she said aloud, her voice level despite the frenzied rhythm of her pulse. She turned away, forcing her expression into something neutral.
She had made her decision. And it had to be tonight.
Rymora had just finished eating lunch—not that the servant’s hall followed any strict schedule—and now hurried back toward the garden. Her feet moved fast, driven by the gnawing anxiety that clawed at her stomach.
Aira. Her mistress had a tendency to act recklessly—and Rymora knew it. It was bad enough she was talking to him, to Clay of all people. If she dared go further...
’Like the poison incident wasn’t already enough,’ she thought bitterly, her lips pressed in a firm line.
She picked up her pace, her long strides brisk and anxious.
’I’ve been here too long. I came as a spy. I should leave now while I still have all my limbs,’
Her expression darkened.
’This week could not possibly get any worse—’
She had barely finished the thought when someone crashed into her. Hard.
Rymora stumbled, nearly falling to the ground. Her hands shot out to steady herself—but they weren’t empty.
She glanced down, frowning as her fingers closed around something unfamiliar.
She whirled around instinctively, catching a glimpse of a guard disappearing around the corner. Too quick to follow. Too careful to identify.
Heart pounding, she looked down and slowly unfolded the note.
Come tonight.—Lord Drehk.
Her expression soured. She didn’t hesitate. She crumpled the note instantly and tore it into pieces, scattering the fragments like broken ash as she resumed walking.
Being tied to a Lord might have been a dream for any other servant—but not for her. Not with her secret.
’Couldn’t he have just said whatever he wanted to in the note? Why summon me like I’m some cheap—’
Her thoughts cut off as she stomped back into the garden, a visible scowl on her face. She spotted Aira immediately, now standing a bit farther away from Clay. At least that was something.
’Well, one thing is going better than the rest,’ she muttered to herself.
She straightened and stepped closer, giving a slight bow before falling into step behind Aira as they left the garden together.
They both knew better than to show up to lunch wearing the same thing she’d met Clay in.