The Scentless Queen; Bonded with the Prince of Night.

The air in the Royal Sanctuary smelled of old blood and pricey jasmine, a sweet, cloying rot that most people found oppressive. However, I wasn't like most people. My footsteps were silent on the white marble as I made my way through the palace kitchen. I was invisible to the vampire guards stationed at the golden arches. I was invisible to the nose, not because I was invisible to the eye. I was a silent void in a world where every heartbeat, every fear, and every drop of sweat served as a loud siren to the predators that controlled us. A ghost without a scent. Without taking his eyes off his silver knives, the head chef growled, "Kaelie, another tray for the Prince's quarters." I grabbed the tray, running my fingers over the red liquid in the chilly crystal decanter. My duties as a 𝑆𝑎𝑛𝑐𝑡𝑢𝑎𝑟𝑦 𝑃𝑒𝑡 were straightforward: serve, look good, and keep quiet. However, a thin, shimmering violet thread that was only visible to me pulsed in the air as my hand moved. It was Prince Julian's destiny. I wasn't just serving him dinner tonight, either. I was going to cut his 𝑭𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝑻𝒉𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅. The weight of the silver tray felt like a lead anchor in my hands. Every human in this wing was terrified of the Prince, their fear pouring off them in thick, metallic scents that made the guards salivate. But me?, I just felt the biting cold of the floor against my bare soles. ​I climbed the spiral staircase toward the royal suite, my heart hammering against my ribs. Stay calm, I told myself. If you don't smell like fear, you're just a shadow. ​Outside the heavy mahogany doors, I paused. Julian's 𝑭𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝑻𝒉𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅 was vibrating now, a jagged purple line that seemed to bleed into the air. It was an artificial bond, woven by the Weaver's Guild to tie him to a Duchess he'd never met. My job, the job the underworld paid me three months' worth of rations for, was to reach out and snip it. ​I pushed the door open. ​The room was bathed in the glow of a dozen flickering candles, reflecting off the ornate gold frames and burgundy velvet drapes. Prince Julian sat by the fireplace, his back to me. He looked like a statue carved from moonlight, beautiful, still, and utterly lethal. ​"Set it on the table, Ghost," he murmured. His voice was like velvet over gravel. ​He didn't turn around. He didn't have to. Even if he couldn't smell me, he could hear the faint rustle of my linen dress. ​I stepped closer, my eyes locked on the glowing thread hovering just above his left shoulder. This was it. I set the tray down with a deliberate clink, and as I reached for the decanter, my other hand flicked outward. My fingers brushed the cold, buzzing energy of the thread. ​I expected it to snap. I expected to run. ​Instead, the violet light turned a violent, searing gold. It didn't break. It wrapped around my wrist, pulling tight, searing into my skin like a brand. ​Julian spun around, his red eyes widening as he stared not at the tray, but directly at my face. For the first time in my life, a vampire wasn't looking past me. He was looking at me. ​"What," he hissed, his hand shooting out to grab my tethered wrist, "have you done?"