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She wasn’t ready to return to her staid life in Castle Dacia, where her awkwardness had manifested. Sometimes, she wondered if her shyness had to do with living in the shadows of so many talented, powerful family members. Had Mina—a vampire—been starving for a moment in the sun?

Laughter sounded from a clearing amid the trees. Then sighs. Usually that forest clearing was quiet. She’d heard the nymphs whisper that it belonged to the fey folk and was off-limits.

Cocooned in her mist, Mina floated toward the sounds, coming across a pair of unclothed lovers, a fey male and female. They weren’t partaking in yawn-worthy debauchery.

Just the opposite.

Rapt, she watched a scene out of dreams unfold—a communion bathed in moonbeams. She should leave them to their tender caresses and adoring gazes. Yet she couldn’t pull herself away, sensing she’d climbed a precipice and now would be rewarded with an outlook she’d never experienced.

Her sense was right. With murmured words of promise, these two beings became one, as if throughalchemy.Her mind opened to receive this epiphany. Blood tears welled, and she finally understood . . .

Everything.

Divinity in this realm existed.And it’s called lovemaking. . . .

Once the couple finished their communion, they caught their breath and exchanged more of those caresses. Then they dressed and meandered away hand in hand, the bond between them seeming to thrum and glow.

Mina breathed,“Alchemy,”and gazed after them as they disappeared into the night. Like watching a current of mist surrender to a breeze?—

Mist.Hers was gone. She’d been so enthralled that she’d lost track of her camouflage.

She inhaled a breath to concentrate and pictured herself as intangible. Before her form could fade and mist stretch outward from her, claws dug into her upper arm!

“You’re a female!” a red-eyed vampire cried beside her, spraying spittle. “I saw you appear out of the fog.”

“Unhand me at once.” Zero hesitation hindered her words to this opponent. He was a Horde vampire, and judging by his eyes, he was well on his way to bloodlust from drinking and killing others.

“Never!” Expression crazed, he dismissed her wishes without a care. “You’re coming with me.”

She tried to trace from his grip; his hold was unbreakable. She might be a Dacian, but she was young, and bloodlust made him strong. As her hand dipped to her sword, she said, “No. I am not.”

“A female vampire! What a prize you are. The Horde will give you a welcome you’ll never forget.” When he started to trace her to her “welcome,” Mina’s sword flashed out.

He frowned. His frown deepened as his head slid from his severed neck to tumble to the ground. His body collapsed, his claws digging into her arm. Five wounds sliced her shirt and skin.

She told the severed head, “I saidno.”

Bold words, yet she felt hollow inside. This was her first kill. Though she’d had no choice and she’d trained for just such a scenario, no logical warrior enjoyed killing.

As she scanned for more threats, she attempted to produce her mist again. Not a wisp appeared. Maybe she had drained her ability, relying on it for weeks. Would more vampires come?

Realization sank in. She’d broken the most unbreakable law of Dacia:Forever to observe, never to engage. She would have to confess her crime in front of the court.

Though she wasn’t supposed to leave her post for hours more, under the circumstances she bade this place good-bye, then teleported home.

She moved not an inch.Huh?

Another attempt to reach home. Nothing. Yet when she traced across the forest, she disappeared and appeared as usual.

So Dacia’s mystical boundary—which kept the realm safe and hidden—was rejecting her. She and her brother were considered the heart of the kingdom; for what reason would her home deny her return?

Suspicion took hold as she peered down at her injured arm. A red-eyed vampire had clawed her. Now her mist didn’t work, and Dacia’s boundary was rejecting her. . . .

Many Horde males were silent carriers of a malady, unaffected by it while spreading it to females. No female vampires existed outside the safety of Dacia for a reason.

She stared at her new wounds. They weren’t regenerating, actually looked worse.Gods above and below, I have . . . the plague.She swallowed past the lump in her throat.

In shock, she recalled one of her last exchanges with Mirceo before he’d left: