Chapter 1

The blood-infused elixir I crafted won the top honor at the Nocturne's Gala, but my adopted sister stole it and claimed the credit.

She thought she'd won glory, not realizing it was a vampire betrothal contract to the Prince Kaelan—rumored to be impotent, barbaric, and monstrous.

When the proposal arrived, my archmage fiancé, to "protect" her, hastily bound himself to her with a blood-mark and took her to his bed.

She returned, the fresh mark on her neck a badge of triumph. "Sister, your man is mine now. You turn twenty-five in three days. If no one claims you, the Matchmaking Registry will toss you to some aging, wife-beating rogue mercenary..."

She was wrong. I always had a choice.

I walked to my parents, who were scrambling to clean up her mess, and declared calmly.

"If she refuses to marry Kaelan Nocturne, then I will."

...

The words tasted like ash and iron on my tongue.

My father, the proposal parchment from House Nocturne still clutched in his hand, went utterly still.

My mother’s gasp was a sharp, pained thing in the thick silence of the drawing-room. The candlelight seemed to shrink away from her horrified face. “Have you sun-touched your mind, Elara?! It’s Kaelan! They say he drinks his servants dry for sport! They say he snaps necks for whispering his name! You’ll be walking into your own grave!”

I opened my mouth, a protest forming, but my father’s voice cut through, low and strained. “She has a point, Elara. Marcus and Liana are already blood-bound. What becomes of them if you refuse?”

A flicker of conflict, there and gone, in my mother’s eyes. Her hand, which had been gripping mine tightly, went slack.

My own heart turned to cold stone in response.

Their true-born daughter. Yet Liana, the foundling we took in from the streets, had always held the softer share of their affection. She had the knack for fragile smiles and whispered sorrows.

A bitter smile twisted my lips. “Fine. I’ll do it. On one condition.”

My father’s eyes narrowed. “What condition?”

“On the day I am wed,” I said, my voice clear and cold in the still air. “Liana will stand before the guests. She will confess, publicly, that she stole my offering. That she lied.”

He slammed his fist on the oak table, making the silver goblets jump. “You vicious girl! You would ruin your sister’s standing for this?!”

My mother just looked at me, her expression one of profound disappointment.

I didn’t flinch. “The vampire prince seeks the woman whose blood impressed his court. She took what was mine. She should learn. What does she want more? A fleeting reputation, or a true marriage with her beloved Marcus?”

It was for Liana’s sake, always for Liana, that they finally, reluctantly, nodded.

I turned and left the room without a backward glance.

I almost collided with Marcus as he stepped out of Liana’s bedchamber.

He was pulling a silk robe over his shoulders. Love-bites, fresh and angry, dotted the skin of his throat and chest.

The evidence of the last three days was painted plainly on him.

I wrinkled my nose and moved to step past him.

He caught my arm. His sigh was heavy, performative. “I know you’re upset, Elara. But this… this was the only way to protect her. You know how obsessive a vampire prince can be. A public blood-binding with her… even Kaelan would think twice about challenging a claimed mortal.”

I pulled my arm free. “And what about me, Marcus?”

We were supposed to be bound at my twentieth birthday. Liana had always found a reason to delay it. A sudden fever. A fainting spell. A mysterious grief.

Now I was nearly twenty-five. And he had bound himself to her in the final hour.

Leaving me with the two paths reserved for unbounded mortal women of fading youth: be matched by the city’s ledger to some wandering mercenary, or accept the proposal from the most feared vampire in the realm.

Marcus had the decency to look guilty for a fleeting second. Then he seized my hands, his grip too tight. “It’s alright! I won’t let you be thrown to some brute. I’ll… I’ll take you as a blood-bound servant! You can stay in my mage household. You won’t need to marry at all!”

He spoke as if granting a royal boon. “Don’t look like that. It’s just a formality. Once you’re under my roof, I’ll treat you just the same as Liana.”

A laugh, harsh and incredulous, burst from me. How could he be so profoundly vile?

A blood-servant’s mark was for criminals, for debtors sold to settle accounts. It was a brand of permanent inferiority. Property. Your children would be property. Your will was your master’s will.

I wrenched my hands away. “Never.”

His face flushed with embarrassment that quickly curdled into anger. “What is wrong with you?! Don’t you love me? Or is your pride worth more than being by my side?!”

“Is it?” I shot back. “Then why not make Liana your blood-servant? That would have saved her too, wouldn’t it?”

He recoiled as if struck. “How dare you suggest that?! A blood-bound servant!” His voice rose to a shout. “A delicate flower like Liana deserves to be cherished! She should never know a moment’s grief!”

The old, familiar ache bloomed behind my eyes, hot and sharp.

Because Liana was a delicate flower. And I was… durable. Practical. I had the constitution that survived fevers and the wit that solved problems. So I could bear the grievances. I could shoulder the burdens.

My silence, my clear contempt, seemed to sting him more.

He leaned in, his breath hot on my face. “You should reflect on that attitude. You don’t have any other choice.”

He strode away, leaving me standing alone in the dim corridor.

I walked downstairs in a daze. My parents were waiting in the foyer.

My mother held out a small velvet box. “From the Shadow Keep. For you.”

I opened it. Inside, on a bed of black silk, lay a bracelet. It was crafted of dark, smoky iron, set with a single, teardrop-shaped moonstone that glowed with a soft inner light.

I knew this bracelet. I’d seen it years ago at a clandestine auction in the Midnight Bazaar. I’d longed for it, but the price was a fantasy.

My fingers closed around the cool metal.

Perhaps… perhaps marrying Kaelan Nocturne wouldn’t be a death sentence after all.