Chapter 139: Something Smells Off

Killian was sitting at the dining table in the dark.

She hadn’t seen him. She hadn’t heard him. He was just there, perfectly still, a glass of water in front of him, his silver hair gleaming faintly in the moonlight. He was wearing a loose black T-shirt, and he looked like he had been sitting there for a long time.

His purple eyes glowed faintly in the dark.

Blair’s mind went blank. All she could see was a scanned form, a box marked Authorized By, and seven characters she would never be able to forget.

Greene, Heather. 3:12 AM.

Killian tilted his head, studying her. His gaze dropped to her trembling hands, then to the cracked glass in the sink, then back up to her face.

"You look," he said slowly, "as if you have seen a ghost."

Blair couldn’t speak.

Across the room, Clarice was fast asleep on the couch, her back to them, snoring softly. She might as well have been on the moon. Blair was alone in a dark kitchen with the Crown Prince.

And she was almost certain he had taken Heather.

Blair didn’t answer. She turned back to the sink and reached for the broken glass, just to have something to do with her hands, just so she didn’t have to look at him.

A sharp sting bit into her finger.

She hissed and snatched her hand back. A thin line of red welled up along the side of her index finger and began to drip.

Behind her, a chair scraped.

Blair didn’t hear him cross the kitchen. One second he was at the table. The next, a cool hand had closed around her wrist.

She froze.

Killian turned her hand over, palm up, and studied the cut in the moonlight. His grip wasn’t tight. But it didn’t need to be. She couldn’t have pulled away if she tried. Every muscle in her body had turned to stone.

"Careless," he murmured.

He reached past her, took a clean dish towel from the counter, and pressed it firmly against the cut. He held it there. Blair stared at his hand wrapped around hers. It was cold, like it had been resting on ice.

This was the hand that had signed Heather’s transfer.

The thought made her knees go weak.

Then Killian went still.

His head tilted slightly. His lips parted, and his forked tongue slipped out, flicking once, twice, as if he were tasting the air.

He lifted the towel away and looked at the cut. At the thin bead of blood still welling there.

"Strange," he said quietly.

Blair’s heart stopped. "Wh-what is?"

Killian’s purple eyes lifted to her face.

Blair looked up before she could stop herself. He was studying her.

"You smell human," Killian said slowly, as if it were the strangest thing he had ever encountered. "Ordinarily human." His eyes narrowed. "Inland Taipan venom kills humans in under an hour."

Blair ripped her hand free. 𝒻𝑟ℯℯ

Her heart was pounding so hard she could feel it in her cut finger.

"I-I have to go," she stammered. "Thank you. For the towel. Goodnight."

She didn’t wait for an answer. She fled back down the hallway, shut her door, and locked it with shaking fingers. Then she slid down to the floor with her back against it, clutching her bleeding finger to her chest.

* * *

"BLAIR!"

Something small and fast slammed into Blair’s legs the moment she stepped out of her room the next morning. She stumbled back against the doorframe and looked down.

Kael beamed up at her, his tiny arms wrapped around her knees. His dark blue hair was sticking up in every direction. He was still in his pajamas, the ones with little moons on them.

"Hi, Kael," Blair said with a bright smile.

"I missed you!" Kael announced. "Auntie has a cat. It’s mean."

"Oh no."

"I bit it."

"...Oh no."

He grabbed her hand and towed her into the dining room with the determination of a tugboat. Everyone was already at the table. Clarice was pouring tea. Killian sat at the far end, immaculate as ever, a cup of black coffee in front of him. And Daemus...

Daemus looked terrible.

His hair was a disaster. There was a small, faint bruise on his cheekbone and another on his chin. The mustache was still there, slightly faded, and the dark circles under his eyes made it look like he had fought a war overnight.

"He kicks," Daemus said hollowly before anyone could ask. "He kicked me in the face."

"I did not," Kael said indignantly. Then he climbed into Blair’s lap the moment she sat down and pointed across the table. "Dae has a MUSTACHE."

"Yes, thank you, Kael."

"Why does Dae have a mustache?"

Daemus pointed his fork at Killian. "Ask him."

Kael swiveled around in Blair’s lap and looked at Killian for the first time.

Blair held her breath. Every adult beastman she knew flinched when the Crown Prince looked at them. She waited for Kael to burst into tears.

Kael studied Killian very seriously. Then he said, "Your hair is sparkly."

Killian stared at him.

"Are you a snake?" Kael asked.

"Yes."

"Are you scary?"

Killian took a slow sip of his coffee. "Yes."

Kael considered this. "I’m not scared of you," he announced.

"You should be."

"No," said Kael, and went back to eating Blair’s pancakes.

Killian set his cup down. For a moment, the Crown Prince looked genuinely at a loss.

Daemus snorted into his orange juice. Clarice hid a smile behind her teacup.

Blair kept her eyes on her plate. She was aware, the way prey is always aware, that Killian’s gaze had drifted away from Kael and settled on her.

Kael tilted his head back against her chest and looked up at her, then across the table at Killian, then back at her. His little brow furrowed in thought.

"Blair," he said loudly. "Is he your mate too?"

Daemus choked on his orange juice.