Chapter 8

“I will not apologize.”

My voice cut through the murmuring crowd.

Darius froze. “What did you say?”

“I said, I will not apologize.” I pointed to a nearby building. “That building has a magical playback crystal. It recorded everything. Shall we review it?”

Livia’s face went white.

“No… no need to bother,” she said weakly. “It was probably just an accident…”

But her words were cut off by a pained groan.

“It’s a holy burn!” she cried, clutching her palm, her face growing even paler. “The power from that silver is too strong!”

Darius immediately swept her into his arms. “Hold on. I’m taking you to the healing center.”

He dashed across the street toward the center without a single glance back at me.

The crowd began to disperse, but the whispers continued.

“That Isolde is so cold-blooded.”

“The poor girl is hurt, and she won’t even say she’s sorry.”

“No wonder the Prince prefers the gentle one.”

I stood there, staring in the direction of the healing center.

Then I turned and walked away.

The next day was the final day before the ceremony.

In the morning, I had all my luggage shipped.

All that was left was a small backpack with essentials and my ticket.

The ship was scheduled for 3 p.m.

At ten that night, Darius finally returned.

“How’s Livia?” I asked.

“Stable,” he said coldly. “The blood-healer said if I hadn’t brought her in so quickly, her soul could have been permanently damaged.”

“That’s good.”

Darius walked toward me, his eyes still burning with rage.

“Tomorrow,” he said, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous command. “At the ceremony. You will apologize to her. In front of everyone.”

“What ceremony?”

“Our blood-oath ceremony.” He frowned. “Did you forget?”

I looked at him and suddenly wanted to laugh.

“You really think there’s still going to be a ceremony?”

“Of course there is. I’ve already notified all the elders.” Darius’s tone grew impatient. “For the honor of the Coven, you need to see the bigger picture.”

His comm suddenly rang.

“Darius, I don’t feel well,” Livia’s voice came through the speaker. “Can you come be with me?”

Darius shot to his feet. “I’ll be right there.”

He grabbed his coat and headed for the door.

“Nine a.m. tomorrow. Don’t be late,” he ordered without looking back. “The ceremony will start on time.”

The moment the door clicked shut, I let the silence envelop me.

Then, I walked to the window, and into the void, I chanted the vow I had rehearsed a thousand times in my heart, in the ancient tongue of the first vampires.

The air began to thrum, unseen magic gathering between my lips.

“I, Isolde, of House Volkov, do cast off the bond with Darius, of House Aleron.”

“Blood to blood, soul to self. By my will, the covenant is broken. By my heart, the tie is severed.”

As the final syllable fell, I felt the dull, pulling sensation in my chest snap.

He was gone. Completely.

I waited until dawn.

Sitting at my desk, I took out the ancient bloodline registry.

In blood-red ink, I drew a single, clean line through our names, and below it wrote one word:

Annulled.

Then I grabbed my bag and walked out of the place I had once called home.

On my way to the docks, I sent a message to the Head Elder.

Initiate the severance rite. The blood-oath ceremony is cancelled.

At 9:30 a.m., my ship had already left the port.

Behind me, the city—the Coven, my past—shrank until it was swallowed by the sea mist.

I imagined Darius in that moment.

He would be at the sacred altar by now.

Dressed in his most splendid ceremonial robes, waiting for his bride.