Who Has His Blood?

"Sample three," Adrian said.

He sat on the edge of his desk, staring at the vial in a clear bag on the blotter. It was past midnight. The only light in the study came from a single lamp and the glitter of the city outside the glass.

Lucas leaned against the bookshelf. Elena sat in the armchair with her knees pulled to her chest.

"So there were two others before it," she said.

"At least."

"Someone has been taking your blood for years."

"Not years." Adrian's voice was clipped. "Months. Perhaps longer. They'd need a way to get close to me, to draw it without my knowing." He rubbed his temple. "A physician. A friend. A lover."

Elena didn't look at him.

"Don't," Adrian said.

"Don't what?"

"Don't think it."

"I'm not."

"You are. I can hear you."

"Then stop listening." But her cheeks were warm. "I'm just saying, if it isn't a friend, you have a short list."

"Who has access to my blood?" Lucas said. "Let's talk about that. Honestly."

Adrian held up a finger.

"One. The Tower physician. Dr. Marek. He retired three years ago and moved to the coast."

"Two," Lucas said. "The medical wing's night staff. Nine people, all vetted."

"Three. Anyone who could've gotten into my private quarters." Adrian's jaw tightened. "Which means the people closest to me. You, Lucian, Seraphina. A handful of guards."

"Me?" Lucas raised an eyebrow. "I'm flattered. Very. But I'd have to be an idiot to leave my own signature on a bottle."

"Which is why I don't believe it was you," Adrian said. "But I have to ask."

"Ask."

"Did you take my blood?"

"No."

"Do you know who did?"

"No." Lucas met his gaze without flinching. "On my life."

Adrian held it for a long moment. Then he nodded.

"Good enough."

"That's it?" Elena said. "You just believe him?"

"I've known him for twenty years." Adrian looked at her. "I'm not going to believe a stranger over my brother."

Something in her chest twisted. Brother. Hadn't she once had someone like that? She didn't remember.

"Fine," she said. "But we shouldn't trust anyone else."

"We won't."

"Not Lucian."

"Lucian raised me."

"He smelled like the cold room. Noah said so."

"Noah is five."

"Noah's father drew a straight line from a lullaby to the man who raised him." Elena's voice sharpened. "You know where that tune came from."

Adrian's face closed. "It could be a coincidence."

"Do you believe that?"

Silence.

Lucas coughed. "I think I'll go and... investigate things. Elsewhere." He slipped out. The door clicked shut.

Adrian ran a hand over his face. "I don't want to believe it."

"I know."

"He sat with me through every nightmare after my mother died. He taught me how to read a treaty. How to lead." His voice cracked. "If he's the one, then my whole life..."

"Hey." Elena stood and crossed to him. She hesitated. Then she took his hand, the one with the glowing mark. "You don't have to decide tonight."

His fingers curled around hers.

"I hate this," he said. "I hate that I'm afraid of the truth."

"That's not weakness."

"What is it?"

"Love," she said quietly. "For the wrong person."

He looked at her. Really looked at her. The bond hummed between them, bright and aching.

"Elena..."

Her phone buzzed on the desk.

She frowned. No one had this number. She'd bought the cheap prepaid phone in a human pharmacy two days before she fled.

She picked it up. A single text, from a blocked number.

Leave tonight. Or the boy dies.

Her blood ran cold.

Below it, a photograph: a picture of Noah asleep in his bed, shot from inside his room.