I caught up to him just where the vaulted ceiling gave way to raw granite roots. The torch brackets here were spaced too far apart, leaving long stretches of gray stone in shadow. Levin didn't look back until my fingers clamped onto the rough sleeve of his tunic. He stopped immediately, letting the heavy fabric bunch up against my palm. The scent of spring clover cut right through the smell of damp mortar and old sulfur.
“You lied to Hunter,” I said, keeping my voice low enough that it bounced only between us. “A magical tether of that weight doesn't just snap because you decided it was inconvenient. What did you actually give up to break it?”
“You always assume there's a body count for every bit of magic,” Levin murmured, turning his head so his light green hair fell across one shoulder. “Some things are just old enough to crumble if you shake them hard enough. I didn't bleed out on an altar, if that's what's keeping you awake at night.”
“Don't play games with me in my own domain,” I snapped, tightening my grip until my knuckles ached against his arm. “You traded something native to your bloodline, or you wouldn't be smiling like that. What was it, Levin?”
He let out a soft breath that smelled faintly of bruised mint. “I gave up my tether to the northern forest. Every elf born to my house has a root-mark that binds them to the high canopy, which is why we never stray too far from home. It keeps us anchored to the soil we came from. Now I'm just drifting wood.”
The casual way he said it made my chest tighten in a way no political threat ever managed. I dropped my hand from his sleeve as if the coarse silver threads had turned to hot iron. “You traded your entire birthright just to get out of a magical curse?”
“I was already banished from my family long before I walked into your sunlit shop,” he said, his voice dropping its melodic teasing edge. “The high canopy didn't want me anymore than your guard wants me standing here. Giving up the root-mark wasn't a sacrifice. It was just paying the toll.”
He took another step back into the shadows, the flickering orange light catching the sharp line of his jaw. The phantom ache in my chest where our heartbeats used to sync up suddenly felt terribly empty, leaving a cold space behind my ribs. I had spent centuries executing traitors for lesser betrayals, yet here stood an elf who had thrown away his entire world for a bit of breathing room. The silence between us stretched until I could hear the distant drip of water somewhere down in the lower vaults.
“Barnaby wasn't joking about the wedding proposal,” I said abruptly, needing to change the subject before the quiet between us turned into something I couldn't manage. “The commoners actually think it's a grand political solution. They love the idea of an elf queen consort keeping the synthetic blood flowing.”
Levin tilted his head, a slow, difficult amusement returning to his face. “And what does the actual Queen think of her subjects planning her wedding? I noticed you didn't deny it when he shouted across the courtyard.”
“I was too busy trying to keep Hunter from running him through with a broadsword,” I muttered, stepping past him to lean my back against the cold granite wall. “You know as well as I do that the council would tear us both apart before the vows were even spoken. A vampire monarch doesn't mix bloodlines with an elf, especially not one who just severed his roots.”
“Rules are usually just things people invent to keep from getting bored,” Levin said, closing the distance between us until the hem of his tunic brushed my boot. “Or perhaps you're just afraid of what happens if you actually let someone stay in your domain without a cage.”
I looked up at him, noting the small smudge of gray soot on his collar from the laboratory furnace. He was too close again, violating every boundary I spent decades carving into the stone of this subterranean court. Yet my feet stayed planted right where they were, refusing to retreat another inch down the corridor. Every instinct I had as a ruler told me to summon Hunter and have the elf locked in a secure cell until dawn.
“You think this is a game,” I whispered, staring at the faint green strands framing his face. “Lord Cassian's spies are already whispering about us in the northern alcoves. If they find out you have no forest tether left to protect you, they'll use you to get to my throne.”
“Let them try,” Levin replied, his voice dropping to a low, steady hum that vibrated right through the stone at our backs. “I've survived worse than a pack of disgruntled aristocrats who haven't tasted real food in a century. Besides, I didn't come all the way down here just to talk about politics and discarded roots.”