Page 156 of The Princess In A 'Prince' Disguise

"Dragonblood," he murmured, calmly.

"What does that mean?" Emeriel's worry for the grand lord unexpectedly outweighing his own terror.

"Poison," Vladya's response was curt, almost bored. He tossed the arrows aside, then glanced at Emeriel. "Wait here."

And in a flash, he was gone.

The forest erupted in a sound of horror. Screams rose, followed by the snap of bones breaking.

The wetness of flesh tearing, agonized cries cut short, and something crunching beneath a devastating force.

When Lord Vladya returned, his white robe was splattered crimson, the blood vivid against the stark white.

More spattered his scarred face, and his eyes... there was a gleam in them that made Emeriel's stomach twist with fear.

He looked as unbothered as ever, as if killing all those assassins was a mere inconvenience. He lifted Emeriel and began to sprint again.

"We have to be fast before the poison takes effect. It is lethal to our kind,” Lord Vladya spoke in the same casual tone one might use in discussing the weather.

But, by the time they arrived at Ravenshadow, Emeriel could see how true his words were.

Lord Vladya's inhuman speed had slowed, his once-effortless strides now strained, his breathing harsh.

Emeriel, placed back on his feet, instinctively took a step back to put some distance between them.

He was fortunate Lord Vladya maintained a professional demeanor, keeping his arms firmly wrapped around Emeriel's abdomen without any wandering.

His gaze stayed on the grand lord who had saved his life, and a lot of troubling emotions battled within him. Blood from his wound flowed in endless streams. A sheen of sweat beaded Lord Vladya's brow.

"I thought Urekai had self-healing abilities for physical wounds," the question slipped before he could stop it.

Then, he bit his lips, wondering if he had overstepped his bounds.

"We do, and we don't. It's a complicated matter," Vladya’s reply was clipped. "One has to bloodfeed first for natural healing to commence. And for injuries such as this, a healer is also needed."

As they neared Blackstone, its impressive outline loomed against the last rays of the dying sun, a group of soldiers stood waiting.

Their eyes widened with alarm as they saw their ruler, but a sharp shake of the grand lord’s head cut off any offers of assistance Yaz was about to make.

"I am fine," he insisted, and they reluctantly respected his wishes.

They followed behind the grand lord, all the way to the grand entrance of his home.

With a deep bow, Emeriel offered his heartfelt gratitude. "My Lord, I am forever in your debt for saving my life."

"Stay out of trouble," Grand Lord Vladya’s tone was cool and dismissive. "Return to your quarters. Your duties are concluded for today."

Emeriel obeyed, but was worried as he left. Lord Vladya's injuries had looked severe, even if he'd treated them as mere nuisances.

“I still can't believe he saved my life,” Emeriel whispered, feeling grateful and confused.

Emeriel flung open the door of his quarters, took one step inside – and went very still.

A shadowy figure lurked against the far wall, hand darting for a weapon sheathed at its hip. Another assassin.

Fear jolted through him.They were inside.

How many more were hiding in there?

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