With arguably the most loyal man to her father between her steel grip, Sabrina relinquished a fascinated smirk. She could end Skinner’s life at any moment so felt no danger in prying him a little longer, like pulling the wings from a dead fly.

“That’s a bold statement to usher in the presence of his daughter.” She said, maintaining her firm grip on his air supply. Skinner tried to laugh but ended up spluttering out a cough.

“It’s not as if,” he gasped. “I have anything to lose. Your father wants me dead after all.”

The way Skinner spoke felt to Sabrina like a man already accepting of death, unshackled by the burden of wanting to survive. There was no regret in his voice, only a surrenderor's final plight, like someone nearing the end of a losing chess game, formidable moving the pieces he has left before the inevitable checkmate.

“If my father wanted you dead, you would be.” Sabrina taunted. Skinner tried to laugh again, this time managing it.

“You’ve seen how your father treats failure. He keeps me around because he needs me. If he gains control of the city, I’ll be redundant.” Fear eclipsed Skinner’s face, somehow turning it a shade paler, “I will not become the monsters he breeds. I’ve seen what lies in the west wing of the sewers.”

Sabrina released Skinner’s neck from her grip but continued to pin him in the corner with her presence. She too was aware of the things that lurk in west wing sewers, the remnants of early bitten Royal Guards.

“Why did you come down here?” She asked him. Skinner grasped the veil of inky blackness, holding it up before her like a weapon.

“For this,” he said.

Sabrina held her silence, her mind trying to place the pieces together. She was aware of what Vampire blood supposedly did to Arachnid, but that acknowledgment had required an extensive level of research to uncover. She hardly doubted Skinner had the time, or the intelligence to procure such a finding. Was he a double agent she wondered? Sent her to keep an eye on her by her father, did her father suspect her? If she killed Skinner now, would it only serve to support his suspicions? Her head swam.

“When I came down here with fresh supplies,” Skinner went on, “I couldn’t help myself but steal a look at your work. You exceed the levels of anyone I know, despite being so young. Alchemy runs in your blood.”

Sabrina didn’t let the yearning of wanted approval wash over her, instead, she regarded him coldly, allowing him to continue.

“I—I thought you’d be out hunting Thana,” he said, “I was shocked to find you here, but at the same time intrigued,” Skinner rubbed at his throat, it had already turned the colour of the cherry-red potion off to his side. “The rest was simple probability. The Goldrush poison, your response when I asked about the blood. You’re thinking the same thing, aren’t you?”

“I wonder what my father would do if I brought you to him now? Learning what I now know about your loyalties?” Sabrina taunted; she still did not want to believe he was anything but her father’s pawn.

He shrugged his shoulders lazily, leaning down to support himself on his knees.

“He’d probably hasten my departure from this world…” he said staring down at the ground. “Probably make it as painful as possible too.” He looked up, “But you’d be losing an asset, someone who can help you, and if you’re anything like your mother, you’d know an ally when you see one.”

The mention of her mother sent an emotion of ice and fire through her, a duality of rage and sorrow. Half of her wanted to recapture Skinner's skinny neck in her grip again, the other wanted to weep. She settled somewhere in the middle.

“What do you know of my mother?” she spat, alarmed to see the same ice and fire on Skinner’s face too.

“I was only ever loyal to your mother,” he said. Never your father. I did what I had to do in that throne room against Thana to survive.” He lowered his head solemnly, “But now, I choose to serve only one thing.”

Sabrina didn’t move, even when Skinner freed his silvered longsword at his waist. The silver caught the dim light and magnified the room in its glow. He knelt, placing the bladed at Sabrina’s feet.

“I served your mother faithfully, Princess,” he said, head lowered to her feet. “I will serve her daughter just as faithfully. I will protect you with my sword, and my own life if required. My blade is yours.”

Sabrina didn’t know what to do, so stood there frozen to the ground. She had never felt the unnerving taste of fealty from anyone. Part of her mind still considered herself to be no more than the orphan at the Torrent Orphanage. Skinner remained bowed, his face almost kissing the toes of her painted feet. She cleared her throat awkwardly. Was this a trick? A jape? Suspicion still rose in her like a burning flame given tinder.

“Look at me.” She commanded, and Skinner obeyed. His eyes were ringlets of water that met her own. She reached out and pulled at his hair, grabbing tufts of it between her painted fingernails. He didn’t resist as she checked his neck for puncture holes. Skinner acknowledged her concern.

“I am yours, Princess.” He furthered.

“I accept your servitude,” Sabrina said, causing Skinner to look up delightfully. His eyes looked determined to stay dry, but Sabrina already saw the edges redden. It was a queer feeling, to see a man so earnestly behest to her.

“Rise.” She said, and Skinner rose. “Sheath your sword.” She ordered and he obeyed, the silver drinking the last of the light before becoming imprisoned. There was a prolonged pause between the two of them.

“My Princess,” Skinner said, tilting his head slightly. “If you’ll forgive my previous snooping, I am interested to know why you had this blood in your possession since the first day I came in here?”

“I didn’t know,” Sabrina admitted. “Thana said one day I might need it?”

Skinner handed her the veil of Thana’s blood gingerly, smiling off to the side.

“Clever girl.” He murmured.