Chapter 54

Relief flooded Isaac the instant the words left Kaiyan’s lips.

Neither scenario was true.

The danger he had feared most had passed without incident.

A comfortable smile touched Isaac’s lips, and he released a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. He opened his mouth to dismiss the claim, but stalled. If he simply said no, Kaiyan would inevitably demand to know what his real interest was.

What excuse could he possibly invent?

As Isaac stood paralyzed, Kaiyan continued. “Judging from the guard’s temperament, I doubt it is the first. They say witches delight in carnal appetites,” Kaiyan remarked, his eyes sharpening. “Do you desire his body?”

Isaac blinked, dumbfounded. Absolutely not. He had a healthy appreciation for his own form, certainly, but not in the carnal manner Kaiyan was implying. Speechless and unable to fathom how to articulate the misunderstanding, Isaac simply stared.

Kaiyan’s eyes narrowed further. “I assumed witches favored more dazzling specimens. Your taste is unexpectedly plain.” He muttered the words as if to himself, then fell silent. After a moment of rumination, he added in a perplexed tone, “Then again, did you not summon me with your magic specifically because of my appearance? If so, your aesthetic standards cannot be particularly modest.”

He subjected Isaac to a thorough, clinical study.

Isaac felt the sweat cascading down his back; he could neither confirm nor deny the prince’s logic without digging himself into a deeper grave.

Then, as if a thought had suddenly occurred to him, Kaiyan raised an eyebrow. “Ah. Of course. Witches covet the blood of the pure, do they not? Is that what caught your eye?” He leaned in slightly. “A human who remains a virgin at his age is hardly a common occurrence,” the prince added, looking satisfied at having solved the riddle.

The words struck Isaac in the chest like a rusted blade. That is not the reason at all. The entire premise is fundamentally flawed. And more to the point—

“Is it truly necessary to air another person’s private, intimate affairs with such casual disregard?” Isaac muttered, nursing his bruised dignity.

Kaiyan offered a cold, dismissive snort. “You would have figured it out regardless. Is your kind not unnaturally gifted at sniffing out such things?”

Isaac felt deeply maligned. He hadn’t sensed a thing. Unfortunately, the fact that witches could identify a virgin at a glance was a universal truth, leaving him with no room to object. Besides, if he protested the motive, Kaiyan would only pivot back to the original interrogation. What could he say then? Isaac grimaced as if he had bitten into something bitter.

Kaiyan leaned back against the sofa, settling in. “Do witches not also disregard conventional sex? No matter how I observe you, you appear unmistakably male.”

“Yes. We have our preferences, though witches tend to be significantly more liberal in their views than humans,” Isaac replied.

Kaiyan rested his chin on the back of his hand, tilting his head as he studied Isaac. “How many women have you seduced, then?”

“That is a secret. Probably fewer than you, Lord Kaiyan,” Isaac offered the retort quietly, unable to withstand the prince’s unblinking stare. It was a technical truth, at the very least.

Kaiyan maintained his gaze. “I see.” Then, he delivered a final, heavy blow. “I, however, have never slept with a witch.”

The prince did not look away. The silence stretched, the weight of his stare becoming oppressive. There was likely no malicious subtext intended, but given the preceding conversation, the implication felt suffocating.

Isaac averted his eyes. “I would appreciate it if you didn’t look at me that way,” Isaac said, his voice strained. “Crossing both species and sex simultaneously feels a bit excessive.”

At those words, Kaiyan’s gaze turned frigid. It had always been cold, but now it sharpened into something so icy it seemed capable of freezing the very air in Isaac’s chest. Isaac flinched, his breath hitching in his constricted throat.

The prince leveled a cold, vacant gaze upon him before speaking in a low, sharp voice. “I possess no desire to lie with creatures that lust indiscriminately after both beast and man.”

“…”

The words were saturated with raw contempt and pure, unadulterated hatred.

Nothing more, nothing less.

Isaac suddenly recalled a truth he had momentarily suppressed, Ah, of course. That was the singular ambition that defined this man: the total annihilation of all witches. That hatred served as the absolute, relentless engine driving his existence. Isaac then inhaled slowly, drawing a deep, shuddering breath into his heavy, chilled chest. He prayed it might alleviate the constricting pressure within, but the relief was negligible. He pressed a hand against his heart, then released a long, weary sigh.

They claimed the royal curse would shatter the moment the final witch in the kingdom perished. Once Kaiyan succeeded in his crusade of extermination, he would undoubtedly put Isaac to the blade as well. The very witch who had sustained him with blood would find no quarter.

What, then, would become of a half-blood? Would even a fraction of a witch’s blood have to be scoured from existence without exception? Isaac pondered the thought, his mind darkening, but no answers emerged. He could only shake his head in defeat.

His throat felt parched, likely a somatic response to the crushing tension in his chest. He swallowed hard and cast a furtive glance around, but there was nothing within reach to drink. The water pitcher that had sat on the side table now lay abandoned on the floor, presumably discarded in a fit of agony when the prince had writhed in pain.

Noticing Isaac’s eyes linger on the shattered pitcher, Kaiyan remarked, “Why not take some tea, as you did previously? I find myself thirsty as well.”

“My apologies. I am afraid I cannot summon the magic for that tonight.”

“You have already exhausted your wish? What did you squander it on?”

Isaac froze.

What had he wished for? The illusory figure standing sentry beside the bedroom door was his answer.

There had been no alternative. He had been assigned to keep watch outside the prince’s chambers tonight, yet his contract simultaneously demanded he deliver his blood to Kaiyan without revealing his true identity. To reconcile these conflicting obligations, he had been forced to spend his remaining wish on crafting the deception.

Damn it all. In the end, I cannot even utilize one of my own three wishes for my own benefit. What is the point of this wretched existence?

He should have at least wished for the ability to deflect such inquiries with grace.

Kaiyan studied Isaac, who remained rigid and utterly speechless. At first, the prince’s gaze had been indifferent, but as Isaac lingered in frozen uncertainty, Kaiyan’s expression slowly shifted into one of analytical curiosity. Then, he sank into deep contemplation.

Isaac felt a bead of sweat trickle down his spine.

“I presume there must be a multitude of things you require to exist among humans,” the prince murmured, his pace measured.

Isaac forced himself to calm his violently pounding heart. “Yes. I suppose that is true.”

Fortunately, Kaiyan seemed disinclined to press the matter. Even so, the predatory narrowing of his eyes chilled Isaac to the bone. He deliberately averted his gaze, resolving that the next time he visited, he would arrive clutching an industrial-sized carafe of water. It was in moments precisely like this that he desperately needed to wet his throat.

“Witches rely on magic to strike their bargains with humans,” Kaiyan stated abruptly.

Isaac flinched, choosing to remain silent. The prince observed him with a lingering intensity before whispering as if to himself. “If you possess only a limited reserve of magic and can only manifest it during the new moon… then you are hardly a proper witch at all.”

That quiet, clinical conclusion pierced Isaac’s chest like a dagger. He offered no defense. Kaiyan did not interrogate him further; he merely retreated into his own thoughts.

***