Alaric and Hyran were in the halls in a flash, Dexmon right behind them, boots pounding stone as panic fractured the air.
Hyran did not slow. He opened a portal on the run, the edges snapping sharp and blue, straight into the infirmary, level one. Emergency ward.
Gavriel carried Serena into a private room, and laid her on the bed.
She coughed.
Blood spilled from her mouth in a horrifying amount, splattering her chin and the sheets.
She gasped, sharp and panicked, chest hitching as if her lungs refused to work.
"No," Dexmon breathed.
He was at her side instantly, hauling her upright and pulling her back hard against his chest. His arms locked around her like iron.
"She can't breathe when she's flat," he said through gritted teeth, a bead of sweat forming on his temple. He knew it with bone-deep certainty because her pain was his pain. Her panic clawed through him, raw and suffocating.
Alaric skidded to a stop at the doorway, already assessing. "Your instincts are correct," he called. "Keep her upright."
Then he was gone again, sprinting down the hall.
Serena shuddered, blood staining her lips as she struggled for air. Dexmon pressed his forehead to her temple.
"I've got you," he murmured, fierce and low. "I'm here. Stay with me."
Gavriel's jaw ticked at the sight, but he stayed silent.
Alaric returned moments later, antidote already drawn. He did not hesitate, driving the needle straight into her sternum.
Everyone winced.
Serena did not even register it. Compared to the agony ripping through her, it was nothing.
Her lashes fluttered, eyes sliding closed as the antidote surged into her system.
Dexmon felt the antidote working before anyone said a word. The pain began to fade.
Not gone. But loosening. Receding, like a tide finally pulling back from the shore. Her breathing stuttered, then steadied, shallow but no longer desperate.
Dexmon exhaled a broken breath he didn't remember holding.
King Tiberon appeared in the doorway at that moment, presence snapping the room into order. His sharp gaze took in the blood and the way Dexmon held her like a lifeline.
"Blood like this," he said, voice grave, "I have seen before."
Hyran straightened, irritation cutting through his usual detachment. "Yes. I believe it is Bloodpetal's Kiss. Dark magic threaded through Bloodpetal Rose, which is fatally poisonous on its own."
King Tiberon's eyes shifted to Dexmon, measuring. "Are you certain it was Agnes?"
"I am certain, but I have no proof. Both Agnes and Mother are responsible," Dexmon said, jaw clenched, the color drained from his face.
His arms stayed locked around Serena holding her upright against his chest, and he had no intention of letting go. Never again would he fail to be at her side.
"Perfect cover," Gavriel said, dragging a hand down his face. "She was across the room when it happened. Crowded hall. Dozens of witnesses. No direct line back to her."
Hyran let out a sharp breath, annoyance flaring. "That fits. Bloodpetal's Kiss is not designed for efficiency. It is meant to torture before it kills."
His eyes flicked to Serena then back to Tiberon. "A woman's, blade as some say. Used when it is personal."
Elara and Hale rushed into the room at that moment. Elara's eyes were already red, but her expression shifted from distress to outright horror at the sight of blood.
"She will live," Alaric said immediately at her reaction, his tone authoritative enough to steady her before the tears came. "A standard antidote is effective against this poison, fortunately. However," his eyes flicked to Hyran, "the dark magic must be extracted."
He moved without ceremony, injecting Serena's arm with another measured dose before hanging an I.V. and adjusting the flow.
Hyran stepped closer, already rolling his shoulders like a man preparing for unpleasant work. "Keep her upright," he said to Dexmon, tone clipped. "But move your arms. I do not want the corruption touching you."
Dexmon hesitated for half a second, jaw tightening, then shifted just enough to comply. Serena never left his chest. He adjusted, not released.
Hyran lifted his hands over her sternum. Gold magic ignited beneath his skin, a harsh, visceral glow that pulsed outward. The air thickened.
Black magic clawed its way out of Serena's chest, like smoke dragged backward against its will. It writhed before meeting Hyran's magic and disintegrated on contact. His hands flared brighter, teeth gritting as he burned it away.
He held it there longer than necessary.
Then the glow faded.
"I do not sense any more," he said, giving Alaric a nod.
Immediately, Dexmon's arms slid back around Serena's waist, pulling her closer under the excuse of helping her sit straighter. His hold was protective, possessive, unyielding.
King Tiberon broke the quiet. "Has Agnes interacted with her?"
Elara opened her mouth, but Gavriel beat her to it.
"Yes. Earlier today, during the dress fitting. Agnes struck her across the face and cut her dress," he said bluntly, rubbing a hand down his face.
Dexmon's jaw tightened. He hadn't known.
Hale answered, part amusement and part disbelief. "Oh, it's exactly as it sounds. She had a blade hidden in her bracelet and sliced it."
Gavriel's lips twitched. "Multi-purpose jewelry. Slap, slash, poison. Efficient. All the rage."
The room darkened perceptibly.
"Most importantly," he added, glancing at Hale with a grin that did not belong in a medical ward, "it is not yet midnight."
Elara smacked his arm hard. "Could you be any more crass?"
Gavriel lifted his hands in surrender. "What? She's going to live."
Hale snorted despite himself. Elara shook her head, lips twitching, irritation warring with relief.
"Whose dress is she wearing then?" Hyran asked, lips twitching despite himself.
Elara let out a breath and crossed her arms. "Gav saved the day." She shot him a sharp sideways look. "And he has absolutely let it go to his head."
Dexmon's eyes snapped to Gavriel.
He gave her a dress. Likely the earrings and shoes too. Gifted her something before Dexmon had even had a proper conversation with her.
Something Dexmon should have done. And Serena had told Gavriel what happened. Which meant conversation. Trust. Time spent together he had not fully accounted for.
His jaw tightened.
Could that much really happen in two weeks?
King Tiberon's gaze sharpened. "Did Serena provoke her?" he asked, frowning.
"No," Elara said immediately. "She came into a private room hurling insults." Her voice hardened. "Serena asked if she had done something to upset her."
She hesitated, then glanced at Dexmon, her face flushing.
"Agnes said Serena was trying to seduce you," she continued. "And the dragon Serena bonded with was yours."
Dexmon went very still.
"I promise you," Elara said tightly, "Serena doesn't remember bonding with that dragon and woke up confused the next day. She didn't know it was your dragon or that it carried any political or personal significance. It was not intentional."
She drew a breath.
"We also didn't know Agnes was your betrothed, or that she harbored… feelings. If we had, Serena would have tried to speak with her sooner. To smooth things over. We avoided her because we didn't know if she would recognize either of us."
Silence settled heavy in the room.
"Can you pass that along to your bridezilla?" Gavriel asked cheerfully, clapping Dexmon on the back like he had not just detonated a bomb. "Or should I embroider it on a handkerchief for her?"
Dexmon shot him a look sharp enough to cut glass.
"I am not marrying her," he said flatly. "I ended things. Again. This time in public."
Gavriel grinned wider. "After you kissed her?" He whistled. "Gods, no wonder she poisoned Serena before midnight."
Elara smacked his arm, hard.
"What?" he said immediately, both hands flying up in surrender.
Hyran glanced up from adjusting the flow of the I.V., interest piqued again despite himself. "The second time you've mentioned midnight. Why?"
"I said Agnes would cause a ruckus before midnight," Gavriel replied smoothly. "Hale said it would be after. Now Hale is going to dance with Queen Bellatrix. Hand kiss. Full dance. Slow one."
Dexmon let out a short, dark snort that turned into a low laugh.
King Tiberon's gaze moved between his son and Gavriel. Thoughtful. Measuring.
Perhaps Serena was not Dexmon's fated mate after all. It was possible the ancestor fire represented their dragon bond instead.
She was bonded to Velkaris and a dragon that bound itself to two souls was rarer than any fated match. In all his years, Tiberon had seen it only once before. If anything carried weight beyond fated mates, it was a dragon's choice.
She would be a perfect mate for his son. His instincts were never wrong. But perhaps it would be friendship first. Trust. Loyalty forged under pressure.
There was nothing wrong with love that grew instead of struck like lightning.
Tiberon closed his eyes briefly and when he opened them, the warmth was gone.
"We cannot arrest based on instinct alone," he said evenly. "I will speak with both Agnes and Bellatrix."
He paused, eyes sharpening as a new thread surfaced.
"Did anyone see which server brought her the drink?"
Every face tightened. Hale grimaced. Gavriel frowned. Elara shook her head.
Too much movement. Too many eyes. Too much chaos.
"To be honest," Hale said quietly, "no."
Tiberon inclined his head once. "No matter. The servers are already being questioned."
He let the silence stretch, then finished calmly, "For now, shake with your right hand… and keep a rock in your left."