<h4>Chapter 230: The Child Needs Blood</h4>


    They both left the room, the child still wailing in Morvakar’s arms with the indignation of a creature who clearly believed the world had been designed for hisfort and was failing spectacrly at the task. The cries were sharp. Thessa winced at each echo.


    As they began to ascend the narrow staircase toward the upper levels, Morvakar leaned his head toward her, lowering his voice so it wouldn’t carry.


    "The child needs blood," he whispered.


    Thessa nearly missed a step, her eyes widening in horror. "What?... No! He’s too young." She whispered thest part.


    Morvakar gave her an exasperated look. "Well, you of all people should know he is first of his kind," he said, adjusting the prince in his arms. "He’s been feeding from his mother’s bloodstream for months. Now he’s out here in the cold, cruel world, he needs blood of his own."


    "Morvakar!" Thessa’s whisper turned sharp. "This is the crowned prince. The whole reason we’re in hiding is because the council feared what he would be. Do you have any idea the uproar if we give him blood this young? We can’t risk him showing signs early. The council will definitely have him killed."


    Morvakar sighed. "Leave Luna to rest. I used to break turned vampires once." His mouth quirked at the memory, as if the job had been a sport. "I never broke a newborn, though."


    Thessa gave him a sharp side-eye, because she wasn’t sure if he was joking and because she suspected he wasn’t. "Will he be alright?" she asked when they finally reached the door leading into the parlour.


    Morvakar pushed it open with his shoulder, stepping in.


    "First things first," he said, rocking the baby in an exaggerated sway. "We have to keep him quiet or everyone will know we have a newborn in this house."


    The baby let out another piercing wail, as if to announce he did not approve of whatever n was about to happen.


    "Okay? And how do we do that?" Thessa’s arms folded over her chest. She had the distinct expression of someone prepared to debate every single word that came out of his mouth, which, given the way Morvakar operated, could take all night.


    Morvakar didn’t even nce at her, his dark eyes gleaming with the quiet smugness of a man who knew he was about to do something impressive. "We... don’t do anything. I do."


    He ced the child gently on the sofa. With a flick of his wrist and a murmured string of words in an old tongue that wrapped around the air, the room shimmered faintly. The child’s cries continued, his little mouth opening wide in protest—but not a sound came out. The silence was sudden, thick, and oddly disorienting, as though someone had plucked the noise from the world.


    "I’ll take off the spell as soon as he settles down," Morvakar said, brushing a stray lock of hair from his forehead.


    Thessa stepped closer, eyeing the baby, then him, then back to the baby again, suspicion ring in her gaze. "It won’t harm him, right?" She kept her voice low, but there was a protective sharpness there.


    Morvakar’s lips curved into a knowing smile. "Trust me. I don’t n on doing anything Luna’s going to be mad at me for...She can be scary."


    That earned a startledugh from Thessa. "You? You’re scared of the queen?"


    "Yes, I am," he said without hesitation. He reached for a heavy book from the nearest shelf, its spine cracked from centuries of use. "She once stabbed me in the foot with a volcanic de. Couldn’t walk for three days. And you don’t want to know what volcanic steel does to bone. Drained me of my magic."


    Thessa tilted her head, lips twitching. "That sounds like a story that’s entirely your fault."


    "Looking back, I’ll say yes," he replied without looking up, flipping through pages filled with handwriting and diagrams. His brow furrowed, the light catching on the sharp cut of his cheekbones.


    She watched him for a moment. The way his long fingers moved with care over the fragile pages, the way his shoulders remained rxed even while his mind clearly raced. Beneath the sorcery, the dangerous skill, and that insufferable smugness, Morvakar was... well. A fine man.


    "What exactly are you looking for?" she asked, forcing her tone to remain casual, even though she found herself leaning a little too close.


    "A mild method of breaking blood-thirsty vampires," he murmured, scanning a page illustrated with a particrly violent diagram of teeth sinking into a wrist.


    "Is there anything you cant do?"


    Morvakar nced up at her then, his eyes holding hers for a beat longer than necessary.


    The baby shifted on the sofa, his tiny fingers curling as if grasping for something unseen. Thessa broke the gaze first, moving to tuck the nket more snugly around the infant. But she could still feel the weight of Morvakar’s attention.


    *****


    Damien was freezing—his skin almost too cold to touch—as they wheeled him into the Royal Clinic. The cold radiating from him was unnatural. Eryk moved at the side of the gurney, eyes darting from Damien’s ck face to the nurses ahead. Panic warred with disbelief in his chest. This was impossible.


    Truebloods didn’t simply fall ill. They were the apex of all supernatural life, the strongest species walking the realms. Those born of the royal line? They were untouchable. Invulnerable to disease, immune to poison, blessed with lifespans that outstretched empires. And yet here Damieny, breaths ragged and shallow.


    Eryk’s thoughts twisted into a darker suspicion. This wasn’t normal—no way in hell. Which meant someone, somewhere, had orchestrated this. And whoever they were... they had just pulled off the impossible. The realization gnawed at him, sour and cold in his gut.


    By the time they’d reached the clinic gates, the news had already begun to ripple through Blood City. First, word had spread that the queen was missing. Now, the king himself was dying. It was the kind of double blow that could send the entire city into chaos.