Chapter 32 | Danger and Care | Kael
The next morning, I wake up to the smell of smoke.
Not the cozy smell of a fireplace—this is sharp, bitter, wrong. I sit up fast, my Prince senses kicking in right away. Through the Bloodbond, I feel Leah's panic hit me like a shock, snapping me completely awake.
I rush to the kitchen. Leah's standing in front of the stove, waving a towel at a smoking pan. Her face is red, her hair's a mess, and her nightgown is covered in what looks like batter.
"I was trying to make pancakes," she says, sounding both stubborn and embarrassed. "The stove is... different from the one at the academy."
I look at the pan. Whatever's in there is completely unrecognizable—burned black. Thick, greasy smoke is pouring out of it.
"The heat," I say, turning off the stove. "It's too high for pancakes."
"I know that now."
I open the window to let the smoke out. Then I turn back to her, trying to keep a straight face. But looking at her—flour on her nose, batter in her hair, that annoyed look in her eyes—I can't help it.
I laugh.
She stares at me. "You're laughing?"
"You're covered in flour," I say, barely keeping it together. "And batter. And... is that jam in your hair?"
She touches her hair, feels the sticky spot, and glares at me. "It's not funny. I was trying to make you breakfast."
"I appreciate it." I walk over and brush the flour off her nose. "But maybe we should stick to bloodcakes. Less... explosive."
She swats my hand away, but she's smiling too. A small, reluctant smile that makes her honey-brown eyes light up.
"Show me," she says. "How to use this stove. The right way."
So I teach her. How to adjust the heat, grease the pan, pour the batter in smooth circles. She watches carefully, eyebrows scrunched up, her fingers copying what I do. On her third try, she makes a pancake that's—almost—round. And only a little burnt.
"Progress," I say, taking a bite. It's crispy around the edges, raw in the middle, but I chew like it's great. "Delicious."
"Liar." But she's happy. Her shoulders relax, her smile gets bigger.
We eat our messy breakfast at the small kitchen table, sharing a pot of bloodrose tea. Morning light comes through the window, making her face glow golden. She looks... happy. Peaceful. Like a girl who's finally found where she belongs.
The thought warms me more than the tea.
After breakfast, we start training. I clear space in the living room, pushing the couch against the wall. The floorboards are worn smooth from hundreds of years of use, perfect for practice.
"First," I say, "we need to see what you can do right now."
"I can't do anything. I'm Nullblood."
"Were Nullblood." I correct her gently. "The Suppressor is gone, Leah. Your real bloodline is waking up. We need to know what you're capable of."
She looks unsure, but she nods. I walk her through basic exercises—sensing energy, moving small objects with your mind, putting up shields. The results are... surprising.
Her energy sensing is really good. She can feel my aura from across the room, can find the ward crystals hidden in the walls. But moving things with her mind is weak—she can barely budge a spoon. And her shielding...
"It's like trying to hold water in my hands," she says, frustrated, after her third try fails. "It just slips away."
"That's normal." I tell her. "Your bloodline was locked up for twenty years. It needs time to fully wake up. The sensing comes first. The rest will follow."
"How long?"
"Months. Maybe a year." I pause. "But we don't have that kind of time. The Council—"
"I know." Her jaw tightens. "Then teach me faster."
I look at her. At those determined eyes, that set jaw, her hands balled into fists. She's scared. But she's fighting back. Always fighting.
"Okay," I say. "Faster it is."
We train until noon. Then again in the afternoon. By evening, she can hold up a defensive shield for two seconds. It's weak, see-through, barely there. But it's progress.
"Good," I say, as the shield flickers and disappears. "Tomorrow, three seconds."
She nods, her face red from the effort, her hair stuck to her forehead. She looks worn out but proud.
That night, as we lie in bed, her head on my chest, her breathing getting slower as she falls asleep, I feel the Bloodbond link pulse softly. Contentment. Safety. Trust.
"Kael?" she mumbles, half-asleep.
"Yeah?"
"Thank you. For the house. For the training. For... everything."
I kiss her forehead, my fingers tracing the silver veins on her wrist—faint, but there. "Thank you," I whisper back. "For choosing me."
She doesn't answer. She's already asleep, her body curled up against mine, warm and trusting.
I lie awake, listening to her breathe, feeling the weight of responsibility settle on my shoulders. Protect her. Train her. Help her control the power that's rightfully hers. And keep her safe from the Council, from Valeria's father, from every enemy who would use her to get to me.
It's a heavy burden. But as I feel her heartbeat against my chest, slow and steady, I know I'd carry ten times this weight.
For her. For us. For the future we're building, one messy pancake at a time.