Unaware of the waves his snide at Florens unleashed in Kars, Kilian met a toast from Oliver while the members of the Blood Court twirled on the dance floor. Arcane Musicians weaved orchestras through relentless incantation gestures, making the sounds of organs and violins intertwine for the Blood Court’s pleasure.

But as soul-stirring symphonies pervaded the air, Kilian emptied his wine glass and lowered it so that Kathrin would refill it. In an atypical arrangement, Oliver had Kilian sit between Kathrin and him. With the grand prince at his right and the grand princess at his left, if not for his blue eyes, Kilian could have cheated any foreign dignitary into mistaking him as the King of Nargoz.

Naturally, this was Oliver’s plan to overload Kilian’s ego, convince him of Nargoz submissiveness, and lower his awareness—Kathrin could then exploit him. But seeing the drunken Kilian brazenly flirt with his wife, it would be a lie to say that Oliver didn’t feel incensed.

“Nargoz’s blood wine does live up to its reputation. This is the strongest beverage I’ve tasted in my miserable life. Not only does it take you to cloud nine, it also strengthens the body, makes your blood flow faster and can keep you awake for hours. What’s your secret?” Kilian asked. But even as the world around him spun, he felt strangely alert and invigorated.

Sensing his state of ebriety, Oliver beamed and raised another wine cup.

“Aged bloodkin blood. As you know, though in a lesser measure than the chiropterans, bloodkin blood is like fine wine. It becomes better with age. Less than ten years old and it tastes like iron. Above 50, it tastes like sugar and past 100 you’re drinking a unique variety of grapes. Although there are exceptions, it typically remains in those lines.

The bottles we’re using on this table are all over 500 years old—the cream of the crop. Even your father didn’t get to taste this,” a tipsy Oliver said, and gulped down another glass. Although the blood’s effect on bloodkins was weaker than humans, it didn’t leave them indifferent. And while she minimized her dozes to keep herself alert, Kathrin too was starting to feel the effects.

Turning away from Oliver, Kilian leaned toward Kathrin, breaching her personal space, and bringing his face impertinently close to hers.

“What about you, Your Highness,” Kilian asked, hinting at Kathrin’s blood level.

“Are you asking me my age? That would be rude.” Believing that the overly potent liquor unleashed Kilian’s true nature, Kathrin aimed to humor him. But though they’d settled on the plan together, Oliver still failed to digest the exchange.

“Actually, that was my indirect way of trying to get my wine from the source,” Kilian replied, making both Kathrin and Oliver’s eyes stretch. Although as the glasses succeeded one another, Kilian conducted himself with increasing discourtesy, never did any one of them think he’d go that far. Keeping his emotions pinned down, Oliver made eyes at Kathrin, hinting for her to bring the farce to a finale.

Without a word, Kathrin stood up and extended one hand toward Kilian. As if blind to Oliver’s presence, he followed, and the two rushed out of the banquet hall.

“Boys will be boys. Kilian, I’ve overestimated you,” he scoffed, and summoned quill and paper to draft his new requests. Little did Oliver know that a shadowy figure observed the scene and scoffed at him instead. Meanwhile, Kathrin dragged Kilian into her regal bedchambers, sank her sharpened teeth into her lower lip, and pulled him into a blood-soaked kiss.

As expected of one of her lineage, though the grand princess stood far from 50, her blood contained an enrapturing, sugary taste that further dulled Kilian’s senses. Unabashed, he wrapped his hands around her waist, savoring the intoxicating blood while her soft cleavage pressed his toned chest.

For a second, Kathrin forgot her duty, but soon regaining her composure, as her tongue coiled with Kilian, she moved her right hand in arcane gestures. Scarlet mist gathered at Kathrin’s fingertip, and breaking the kiss, she backpedaled before aiming one finger at Kilian.

“Apologies, nothing personal.

Third Circle Spell: Blood Lush.” Squalls of scarlet petals surged from Kathrin’s right index and hurtled at Kilian. His eyes widened, but even as he recoiled, the petals latched on him and ingrained themselves in his body.

A spell unique to bloodkins and their chiropteran masters, Blood Lush enabled the caster to turn their intoxicating blood into an irresistible aphrodisiac that’d instantly bring the victim to extreme peaks of arousal. As the spell’s effects kicked in, Kilian’s eyes went bloodshot, and he dropped on his knees.

“Resistance is futile. Don’t worry, you will enjoy every last bit of it,” Kathrin scoffed and clapped, making the three handmaidens that served Kilian open the door and step into her chambers.

The cloaking spell within the room dissipated, revealing four recording mirrors that awaited Kathrin’s activation.

“Take good care of the Junior Duke. From now on, he will be your man,” she said, and gestured for the ladies to surround Kilian. Though nervous, they did so within a second. Only now did Kathrin snap her fingers and trigger the recording. Like a predatory beast eager to pounce on its prey, Kilian stood up, snarled, but as Kathrin prepared to leave the room, a burst of laughter stopped her legs.

“Hahaha! Alright, this was okay fun, but it’s time to return to seriousness,” Kilian chortled and lifted his head, showing clear eyes unaffected by spell or liquor. Worse, as she spun to face him, Kathrin was startled to see her blood rose petals fly out of Kilian’s skin—a frown took hold.

“W-what sorcery? How can this be?” She stammered. And when even Kathrin couldn’t maintain her composure, we need not mention the handmaidens who already collapsed on the ground. With a gleeful smile, Kilian walked past them.

“Oh, I forgot to mention. It’s a well-kept secret, but it just so turns out that magic doesn’t work on me. In fact—” Kilian paused and aimed his right hand at Kathrin.

“I can just return it all,” he added, and the blood roses barreled into Kathrin, breaking past her defenses to corrupt her body. Her pale skin flushed red, and her chest heaved and dropped alongside her ragged breathing as she struggled to restrain the spell—a short lived struggle.

Unable to contend with her own magic, Katrin tore off the straps of her dress, making it drop on the ground to reveal her bare, pert body to Kilian’s amused gaze.

“No foreplay, I guess,” Kilian sobbed as Kathrin threw herself into his arms, stuck out her tongue, and flicked it across his neck. At the same time, her hands fiddled with Kilian’s clothes, and with the persistence of a lust-crazed devil, she unbuckled Kilian’s belt, and took his pants down.

Terror-stricken, the handmaidens attempted to scurry away, but Kilian’s voice stopped them all.

“Where do you think you’re going? You’re witnesses. Witnesses stay, watch, then report. And I must admit that I love an audience,” Kilian said with his lips curled into a fiendish grin. Only now did the handmaidens realize that the one on whom they pinned their hopes was, perhaps, the worst of Nargoz’s demons.