Chapter 7 · The Butcher King's Seal

The test room cleared fast.

One second the blood examiner's staring at the smoking bloodstone like it bit him, next second he's backing out with his hands up, muttering something about protocol and the High Council. The guards follow. The door shuts.

I'm still strapped to the chair.

Dorian doesn't move. He's standing by the table where the bloodstone's still hissing, this thin gray smoke curling up from the cracked surface. His face is blank. Not surprised. Not angry. Just… nothing.

That's worse.

"So," I say. My voice comes out steadier than I feel. "What happens now? They burn me? Lock me up? Or do you have a special dungeon for people whose blood breaks your rocks?"

He looks at me then. Still no expression. "Your blood didn't break it."

"Right. It just decided to smoke instead of glow. Totally normal."

"It reacted to something in your line." He steps closer. His shadow falls across my lap. "Something old."

I yank at the restraints. The leather bites into my wrists. "Then let me go and we'll call it a weird family tree. I'll leave. You get your court back. Everyone wins."

"You're carrying my child.