CHAPTER 43: PASSAGES AND PERILS

Sunlight filtered through the tall windows, casting the chamber in muted gold. The room was quiet, filled only with the faint rustle of fabric as Anneliese shifted in her bed, wincing slightly as she flexed her injured foot. The ache lingered—a persistent reminder of what had happened in her father’s study.

Vincenzo remained in the chamber, now sitting on a chair near the unlit fireplace. His presence was a silent reassurance against the tension that still clung to her. Even with the castle walls protected by enchanted barriers, he would not risk leaving her alone after what he had seen. The thought of her being pulled away from him—somewhere he could not reach—made his fingers curl into a tight fist.

He leaned back slightly in the chair, eyes never leaving her. After a moment, his voice broke the quiet. "Will you be able to walk to the dining hall, or... should I carry you?"

His tone was tender, even though the intensity in his gaze did not waver—the quiet weight that made her heart catch. Anneliese hesitated, glancing down at her wrapped foot. Pride warred with practicality, and the memory of him tending her wound made the notion of being carried both appealing and mortifying.

"I... I think I can," she said finally, voice uncertain but determined. "It’s... manageable."

Vincenzo’s eyes studied her for a long moment, searching, weighing her words against some unspoken truth.

Then, inclining his head, he offered, "If you don’t want me to carry you, I can simply teleport us to the dining hall instead."

Anneliese frowned, confusion flickering across her face. "Then why did you carry me back from the forest the other day, when you could have just teleported us here?"

The corner of his mouth curved, mischief sparking in his gaze. "Where would have been the fun in that, little Dove?"

Her eyes narrowed at him, though a faint blush colored her cheeks at the implication of his words. To mask it—and out of genuine curiosity—she shifted the subject. "Do you ever travel by carriage," she asked, tilting her head slightly, "or do you always prefer teleportation?"

Vincenzo’s smile lingered, though his answer came measured beneath the ease of his expression. "Teleportation is convenient, yes," he admitted, fingers tapping idly against the armrest of his chair. "But it is not without its cost. Each passage sharpens the thirst. If one is not fed properly, the strain can be... dangerous."

Her brows knit faintly. "Dangerous how?"

His gaze drifted, for a moment, to the window where the sunlight bled across the glass, before returning to her. "Imagine stepping between two doors and finding yourself locked in the space between. That is what it can feel like, if the body is weakened. One can become trapped—neither here nor there."

A chill pricked her skin at the thought, though his calm tone steadied it.

"For the passage to hold," he went on, "it takes more than willpower—it demands blood, fresh and rich, in both quality and quantity. Without it, what should be a heartbeat’s passage could just as easily abandon you in the void between."

Anneliese’s lips parted, though no words formed at first. The thought of being lost in some unseen void—suspended between worlds with no way back—hollowed her chest with unease. She drew her leg closer, folding it against herself as though the small motion could shield her from the image he had painted.

"And you..." she began softly, her eyes lifting to him, searching. "You’ve never been caught there? Between?"

The question carried more weight than she intended, threaded with a quiet fear she couldn’t quite mask.

A corner of his mouth curved, though his gaze did not waver from hers. "Not quite—but once," he admitted, his tone edged with both sincerity and mischief. "Long ago, when I was young and did not yet live in this castle." The faintest glint of humor flickered across his features, softening the weight of his words. "I skirted close—too close. But I managed to drag myself through to the other side before it could catch me."

The thought of him nearly swallowed by that unseen void unsettled her more than she wanted to admit. Her fingers curled lightly against her sleeve, as though the fabric might ease her. "And yet you still choose it—still step into that risk as though it were nothing."

His tone carried that steady calm, though beneath it ran a darker current. "Every brush with the edge leaves its mark—and its lesson." Then, softer, almost amused, "In the end, Anneliese... if nothing is risked, nothing is gained."

The silence that stretched was heavy but not uncomfortable, until the faint rumble of her stomach betrayed her. Heat rose to her cheeks, and she glanced away quickly.

Vincenzo’s mouth curved, a shadow of amusement flickering in his eyes. He rose from the chair with unhurried grace and moved to the bed. "Perhaps we should test your courage in something far less risky," he said, extending his hand. "The dining hall."

Her lips twitched despite herself, the smallest smile breaking through her unease. "After everything you told me, that hardly feels like a lesser risk," she murmured, slipping her hand into his.

"Then let’s skip the walk and spare you the long corridors and stares," he said, voice low with amusement. The air shifted before she could answer, the chamber dissolving around them until, with sudden clarity, the corridor outside the dining hall stretched into place.

With a raised brow, Vincenzo said, "See? Not so daunting, was it?" A teasing smile touched his lips before he added, "With the treatment I gave your wound, it should heal within an hour. There will be no pain, and you won’t need any assistance."

Anneliese looked away quickly and started toward the dining hall, all too eager to avoid his gaze.

A quiet smirk tugged at Vincenzo’s lips as he let her win her small retreat, falling into step behind her. The servants, already stationed by the towering double doors, straightened at his approach. With a practiced bow, they swung the great doors open, the polished wood groaning softly as the vast dining hall revealed itself.