Valerian awoke to an unfamiliar silence. His body ached, though far less than before, and for the first time in what felt like ages, he could sit up without immediately collapsing back into unconsciousness.
He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his disheveled hair, trying to shake off the lingering haze of sleep. His mind was sluggish, still adjusting to reality after days—weeks?—of being trapped between life and death.
But the first thought that came to him wasn't of his sister. It wasn't of Lucien Blood, the bastard who had taken her away. It wasn't even of the looming war between the vampires and them.
It was her.
"Where's Evelyn Night?" The words slipped from his lips before he could stop them, startling even himself.
The servants attending to him—several maids and a few of his trusted hunters—froze. Their gazes lowered, avoiding his eyes, and their hesitation made his gut twist.
The silence that followed was thick, suffocating. The air felt wrong.
