The First Blood

The room they gave me wasn't a cell.

That was the first surprise.

I'd expected dungeons. Stone walls and iron bars and maybe some medieval torture devices for atmosphere. Instead, I got a bedroom that looked like it belonged in a castle—because it did. Four-poster bed with dark velvet curtains. Tall windows with heavy drapes. Furniture that was probably older than my entire bloodline.

And it was in the West Tower. I'd heard the guards whispering about it when they escorted me here, their voices dropping low like they were discussing a funeral. One of them had crossed himself. The other had walked three steps ahead, like he couldn't get away fast enough.

I sat on the edge of the bed, still wearing that white ceremonial dress. My wrists throbbed where the chains had cut into them. Dried blood cracked when I flexed my fingers. I should probably clean the wounds. Find bandages. Do something.

Instead, I just stared at my hands.

They wouldn't stop shaking. I pressed them flat against my thighs, but they trembled anyway, betraying every ounce of fear I was trying to swallow down.

*Three hundred years,* Caspian had said. *Your family's debt is three hundred years old.*

A knock at the door made me flinch so hard I bit my tongue.

"It's unlocked," I called out. My voice sounded hollow.

The door opened, and a girl walked in carrying a silver tray. She looked about my age—maybe twenty—with warm brown skin and black hair pulled into a neat bun. She wore a simple gray uniform and kept her eyes on the floor like she'd been trained not to look directly at anything.

"Your dinner, miss," she said quietly.

I stared at the food. Actual food. Soup that smelled like vegetables and herbs. Fresh bread. Water in a crystal glass.

"They feed their prisoners here?" The words came out sharper than I meant them to.

"You're not a prisoner, miss." The girl's voice was soft, almost apologetic. "You're a Blood Servant."

"Right. Big difference." I didn't touch the food. My stomach churned just looking at it. "What's your name?"

She looked up, surprised. "Mira, miss."

"Mira." I tried to smile. My face felt like it might crack. "I'm Sera. Just Sera."

"Yes, mi—" Mira caught herself. "Yes, Sera."

She turned to leave, but I stood up. Too fast. The room spun sideways. I grabbed the bedpost to keep from falling.

"Wait," I said. The word came out desperate. "Can you tell me what a feeding ceremony is? Because apparently I have to attend one tonight, and nobody's bothered to explain what that means."

Mira's face went pale. She glanced at the door like she was checking if anyone was listening, then took a step closer. Her hands twisted in her apron.

"It's..." She swallowed hard. I watched her throat work. "It's where the Blood Servants provide sustenance to the academy students. It's required. You can't refuse."

The floor tilted beneath my feet. "Sustenance. You mean—"

"Blood," Mira whispered. "They drink your blood."

My knees went weak. I sat back down on the bed hard enough to make the frame creak. The room felt too small suddenly. Too hot. I couldn't get enough air.

"How much?" My voice barely made it past my lips. "How much blood?"

"Not enough to kill you," Mira said quickly. "Just enough to... satisfy them. There are rules about it. Limits."

I laughed. It came out broken and wrong. "Oh, well, if there are *rules*."

My hands were shaking again. I pressed my palms against my eyes, trying to push back the pressure building behind them. I would not cry. Not in front of her. Not where they could hear me.

"I'm sorry," Mira said softly. "I know it's frightening at first, but you get used to—"

"I'm not getting used to anything." I dropped my hands. My nails had left crescent marks in my palms. "I'm not staying here long enough to get used to it."

Mira's expression shifted into something that looked almost like pity. She'd probably heard those exact words a hundred times before.

She left without saying anything else.

---

The Feeding Hall was exactly as awful as I'd imagined.

Guards escorted me to an empty seat near the middle. Every vampire in the room turned to look at me. I felt their eyes crawling over my skin.

I was still wearing the white dress. Still had dried blood on my wrists. I looked exactly like what I was—fresh meat.

"Sit," one of the guards ordered.

I sat. My hands were shaking so badly I had to tuck them under my thighs to hide it.

Across from me, a male vampire leaned forward. He had pale blonde hair and eyes that were almost colorless. When he smiled, I saw fangs. Long. Sharp. Real.

"You're the new one," he said. His voice was smooth. Hungry. "The Ashford girl Prince Noctis bought."

I couldn't answer. My throat had closed up completely. I dug my nails into my legs under the table, using the pain to stay present.

"Interesting," the vampire continued. His eyes traveled down to my bleeding wrists. His pupils dilated until the colorless irises nearly disappeared. "You smell... different. Sweeter than the others."

"Back off, Lucien." The voice came from my right.

I turned and saw a young man sliding into the seat beside me. He wasn't in a uniform—he wore a leather jacket over a dark shirt, and his hair was black with strange silver streaks running through it. His eyes were amber, and they caught the light like an animal's.

"Raven Thorne," Lucien said. His lip curled back from his fangs. "Still pretending you belong here?"

"Still pretending you're not a bottom-feeder?" Raven shot back. His voice had teeth in it.

Lucien's face twisted. He started to rise, hands flat on the table. But another vampire grabbed his arm and yanked him back down. "Don't," the friend muttered. "He's not worth it."

Raven turned to me. Up close, I could see a scar cutting through his left eyebrow. "You okay?"

"Do I look okay?" I whispered. My voice cracked. I hated how small I sounded.

"Fair point." He pulled something from his jacket pocket—a small flask. "Here. Drink this before the ceremony starts. It'll help."

"What is it?" I stared at the flask like it might bite me.

"Just water with some herbs. Makes your blood taste bitter. Most of them won't take as much if it doesn't taste good."

I reached for the flask. My hands were shaking so badly I nearly dropped it.

Raven noticed. He didn't comment, just opened it and held it steady while I drank. The liquid tasted like mint and something bitter that made my tongue curl.

"Good," Raven said quietly. He glanced around the hall. His jaw was tight. "Now listen carefully. When they call for the ceremony to begin, you—"

A bell rang. Sharp. Final. The sound echoed in my bones.

Every vampire stood at once. The Blood Servants didn't move.

"No," I breathed. My heart slammed against my ribs so hard it hurt. "No, I'm not—"

"You have to," Raven said. His voice was low, urgent. "If you refuse, they'll use force. And trust me, you don't want that."

"Begin," someone announced from the front of the hall.

Lucien smiled wider. He reached across the table, and I watched his hand coming toward me like it was happening underwater. Slow. Inevitable.

I jerked back so hard my chair scraped against the stone floor. The sound was deafening in the sudden silence.

"I said no." My voice came out too loud. The entire hall went quiet. Every eye turned to me.

Lucien's smile vanished. "You don't have a choice, Blood Servant."

"Don't touch her." Raven stood, putting himself between me and Lucien. Every muscle in his body was coiled tight, ready to snap.

"Move aside, half-breed," Lucien snarled. "This doesn't concern you."

"She's under Prince Noctis's protection," Raven said. His voice was deadly quiet. "You really want to test that?"

Lucien hesitated. His colorless eyes flicked to something behind me.

The temperature in the room dropped. I felt it on my skin like ice water.

I turned and saw Caspian standing in the doorway. His gold eyes were fixed on our table. On Lucien. He looked calm. Perfectly composed. But something about the way he held himself made the air feel dangerous.

He crossed the hall so fast I barely tracked the movement. One moment he was at the door. The next he was beside Raven, his hand wrapped around Lucien's wrist.

"She refused," Caspian said softly. "That means you don't touch her. Understand?"

Lucien went very still. "My lord, the ceremony requires—"

"I don't care what it requires." Caspian's fingers tightened. I heard bone crack. Lucien's face went white, but he didn't make a sound. "Find another servant. This one is mine, and she will feed when I say she feeds."

He released Lucien's wrist. The vampire stumbled back, cradling his hand against his chest.

Caspian turned to me. His expression was unreadable, carved from stone. "Come with me."

It wasn't a request.

I stood. My legs shook so badly I had to grab the edge of the table to keep from collapsing.

Raven caught my elbow, steadying me. "I've got her," he said to Caspian.

"No." Caspian's voice was ice. "You've interfered enough. Return to your post."

Something passed between them. Raven's jaw clenched hard enough that I heard his teeth grind. But he let go of my arm and stepped back.

Caspian gestured toward the door. "Now, Seraphina."

I walked. The entire hall watched us leave. I felt their stares like physical weight pressing down on my shoulders.

The moment we were in the corridor, my knees gave out. I caught myself against the wall, gasping for air that wouldn't come.

"You broke protocol," Caspian said. He wasn't looking at me. "You made a scene. Do you have any idea what you've just—"

"I don't care." I forced myself to straighten up even though my legs felt like water. "You can threaten me all you want. I'm not letting any of you drink my blood. I don't care what your rules say."

Caspian finally looked at me. Those gold eyes burned. "You're going to get yourself killed."

"Then I die." My voice shook. I couldn't stop it. "At least I die on my terms."

He stared at me for a long moment. Then he did something I didn't expect.

He smiled. Small. Sad. Genuine.

"You really are her granddaughter," he murmured. "Stubborn to the point of suicide."

We climbed three flights of stairs in silence. My legs ached by the time we reached my door. Caspian opened it and gestured for me to go inside.

I hesitated. "Why the West Tower?"

"Because it's where I can watch you," Caspian said. "And because no one else is allowed here."

"Why not?"

He didn't answer. Just stepped back into the hallway.

"That vampire," I said. My hand shot out and grabbed his sleeve before I could stop myself. "Lucien. He would have forced me, wouldn't he?"

Caspian looked down at where my fingers clutched the fabric. "Yes."

"Will you always stop them?"

"I don't know." He pulled free gently. "I can't be everywhere, Seraphina. And you can't refuse forever. Eventually, you'll have to participate. Or..."

"Or what?"

His gold eyes met mine. "Or you'll discover why they placed you in the forbidden West Tower. Where no other servant has survived."

He left. His footsteps faded down the stairs.

I stumbled into my room and locked the door. My hands shook so badly the key scraped against the metal before it finally turned.

Then I saw it.

On the wall beside my bed—black rot. Spreading like a stain. Pulsing. Growing with each breath I took.

I stepped closer. My heart hammered in my ears.

A whisper echoed through the room. Soft. Desperate. So quiet I almost didn't hear it.

"Help us."