Three days before we were supposed to leave, Luka collapsed.

I was in the middle of reviewing the territory's monthly blood supply allocation — the same administrative work I'd been doing alone for four years, the work that kept this city running while its Prince was away — when I heard the crash from his room.

He was on the floor when I got there.

Eyes bled full red, pupils blown wide, blood instincts surging without warning. His body was trembling, bones shifting beneath the skin. The awakening was pushing forward ahead of schedule, violent and uncontrolled.

A blood surge. The most dangerous phase of a fledgling's awakening.

Without a stabilizing elixir, the surge would burn through his nervous system. I'd seen it happen to older, stronger fledglings than Luka.

"Mom—" His voice came out wrong. Too low. Not his.

"I'm here." I dropped beside him. "I'm right here. Don't fight it."

I ran to the safe.

I'd purchased the stabilizing elixir three months ago. It had cost more than most vampires earned in a decade — a rare compound, brewed by one of the oldest blood witches in the northern territories, specifically formulated for fledglings in the awakening window.

I'd kept it locked away for exactly this moment.

The safe was empty.

I stood there for a second, not understanding.

Then I called Kaelan.

He picked up on the third ring.

"The stabilizing elixir in the safe. Where is it."

"Oh, that." His tone was casual. Like I'd asked him about the weather. "Damian starts his pre-turning conditioning next week. The blood witch recommended a prep compound to strengthen his human physiology before the transition. I used yours to put that together."

I stopped breathing for a moment.

He had taken Luka's emergency elixir.

To make a healthy human boy's future transition more comfortable.

"Kaelan." I kept my voice very controlled. "Luka is surging. Right now. He needs that elixir."

"How bad?"

"Bad enough that I'm calling you instead of handling it myself."

A pause. Not a long one.

"Damian's conditioning schedule is already in progress. Pulling the compound now disrupts the whole sequence." His voice was completely level. "The blood witch said consistency is critical at this stage."

"Your son is surging."

"We're vampires," he said. "Luka has our blood, our resilience. He can push through a surge. Damian can't — his body doesn't work the same way. It's not the same situation."

Those words settled against the back of my neck like something cold.

We're vampires.

Luka was four years old and burning alive from the inside, and Kaelan's answer was that vampires could handle it.

"Figure something out," he said. "You always do."

The line went dead.

From the next room, Luka made a sound that had no business coming from a four-year-old.

"Mom." Weaker now. "It hurts."

"I know." I was already moving. "I know, baby. Hold on."

I called every contact I had in the territory. Every blood witch, every healer, every back-channel supplier I'd built relationships with over four years of running this city's operations while its Prince was absent.

Nothing. The elixir took weeks to brew. No one had a spare supply.

I carried Luka to his bed and wrapped myself around him.

No elixir. No medicine.

All I had was my body and my blood and whatever warmth I could press into him.

So I held him. I wrapped myself around him completely and I held on.

Every time his eyes bled red I talked him back. His name, over and over. My voice against his ear. I'm here. I have you. You're not doing this alone.

Every time he cried I didn't let go.

I don't know how many hours passed.

The television on the wall had been running the city's vampire community channel all day, low in the background. I hadn't touched it.

Then the broadcast cut to something live.

The anchor's voice came through, warm and celebratory.

We're coming to you live from the private grounds of Prince Kaelan's residence, where the Prince has arranged a spectacular fireworks display this evening in honor of Vivienne and her son Damian —

I looked up at the screen.

The sky above the city's western quarter was exploding in gold and red. The camera panned across the private grounds — Vivienne on a terrace in a white dress, Damian on Kaelan's shoulders, both of them laughing as the lights burst and faded above them. Kaelan's face was tilted up toward the display, more relaxed than I'd seen him in years.

— The Prince commissioned this display to celebrate the successful completion of Damian's pre-turning conditioning — a milestone the Prince has described as a deeply personal moment for his chosen family —

Luka seized in my arms.

I pulled him closer and turned my face away from the screen.

His whole body was shaking. His temperature had climbed so high I could feel the heat radiating off him through both our clothes. He was making sounds he wasn't aware of, the kind that happen when pain pushes past the point of crying.

On the television, the crowd on Kaelan's private grounds applauded as another volley of fireworks went up.

— Prince Kaelan has spared no expense for this occasion — sources close to the Prince tell us this display alone cost more than most vampires earn in a century —

I reached out without looking and turned it off.

The room went quiet.

Just Luka's breathing. Ragged, too fast, slowly evening out.

I bargained with everything I had. Every old covenant, every blood oath, every prayer I'd ever heard spoken at a turning ceremony. Take whatever you want. Just let him through this.

Somewhere around midnight, I felt it.

The trembling slowed.

His temperature began, degree by degree, to come down.

His eyes cleared. Not all the way. But enough.

"Mom."

His voice was his again.

I pressed my face into his hair and couldn't speak for a moment.

"You made it," I finally managed. "You did it. You're okay."

"It stopped hurting," he said, faintly surprised.

"I know."

He was quiet for a moment.

"You were talking to me the whole time," he said.

"Yes."

"Even when everything else was so loud — I could still hear you."

I held him tighter and said nothing.

Outside, the last of Kaelan's fireworks were still fading from the sky.

Gold and red, burning out one by one in the dark.

I watched them go from Luka's bedroom window — my son finally still in my arms, both of us exhausted, neither of us having eaten, the safe still empty, the phone still silent — and I thought about Vivienne on that terrace in her white dress, laughing while the lights burst open above her.

Kaelan had lit up the sky for a healthy human boy who swallowed a supplement without complications.

He had not answered a single one of my follow-up calls.

I opened my phone and messaged Aurora.

The moment Luka can walk. Have the border cleared.

Her reply came back in seconds.

Already done. Both of you come straight through.

Luka stirred against me.

"Mom?" Still rough, still small. "When we go to Aurora's territory — do we ever have to come back?"

I smoothed the hair back from his face.

"No," I said. "We're never coming back."

"Good." He was already drifting. "I don't want to."

I stayed beside him until his breathing evened out completely.

Then I started packing.