Chapter 1

“Be still, little mortal,” Duchess Seraphina murmured. “This pain is nothing compared to the insult you have brought upon Prince Lucian.”

Her smile remained gentle as she pressed the red-hot silver brand beneath my collarbone.

My back arched.

The stench of scorched cloth and burning flesh filled the chamber, and sweat soaked through the linen gown I had worn to supper.

Seraphina pushed harder.

“A human sleeping beneath the crest of House Voss. Wearing the prince’s protection. Allowing his court to bow to her.” She spoke as though reciting a list of crimes. “Every breath you take in this chamber profanes his bloodline.”

I bit my lip until I tasted blood. Screaming would only please her.

Besides, the pain burning through me was nothing compared to what Lucian must be enduring beneath the castle.

The blood bond had already carried it to him.

Ten times stronger.

“Why so quiet?” Seraphina lifted the brand at last. “Have you finally learned your place?”

She drew a white handkerchief from her sleeve and delicately wiped the sweat from my brow. My blood stained the embroidered fabric.

I forced my eyes open.

“You had better pray Lucian is sleeping deeply, Duchess.”

My voice came out raw and unsteady.

“Because when he wakes, those perfect hands of yours will be the first things he breaks.”

Seraphina laughed softly.

“Oh, Elara. You truly are a foolish little thing.”

She crossed the chamber, stopping before the heavy velvet curtains.

“His Highness has entered the blood sleep,” she said. “It comes only once every century and lasts ten years. Barely a month has passed.”

She turned to me, pity shining in her pale green eyes.

“Do you honestly believe Lucian Voss would tear himself from sacred sleep for a human sacrifice?”

Her gaze dropped to the burned crest beneath my collarbone.

“A life-bond between a prince and a mortal is impossible. Whatever spell you used to deceive him ends tonight.”

Seraphina opened an ivory case on the table.

Inside lay an array of consecrated silver instruments: needles, narrow blades, and a pair of small cutting shears.

She selected a needle and dragged its point along my cheek.

A thin line of blood appeared.

Far beneath us, something rumbled through the castle floor.

So faintly that Seraphina did not notice.

But I did.

I closed my eyes, picturing Lucian’s cold, handsome face—and the helpless way he always gave in to me.

The first time the bond revealed itself, I had been trying to escape Blackthorn Castle. I smashed an antique silver-backed mirror and sliced my palm on one of the shards.

The cut had barely needed a bandage.

Lucian had collapsed beside his throne.

The flesh of his palm had split open to the bone, blackening as though he had held it in a flame.

He had crossed the throne room in the blink of an eye and closed one hand around my throat.

His eyes had burned crimson, and for one terrified moment, I thought he would drain me dry.

Instead, he released me.

Then he ordered every piece of silver removed from the castle before sunset.

“You don’t know him at all, Seraphina.” I opened my eyes and met her gaze.

Seraphina’s composure cracked.

“I have stood beside Lucian for five hundred years.”

The silver needle traced another burning line beneath my jaw.

“You have known him for less than one. You are an amusement, Elara. A fragile mortal creature he will forget before his next waking century.”

“Then why did you wait until he was asleep to come for me?”

The needle stopped.

Her beautiful face went still.

“When you die, this ridiculous bond will die with you,” she said. “Lucian will wake free of your influence, and he will thank me for removing his weakness.”

A laugh escaped me, though it pulled painfully at the burn on my chest.

“Then do it. Let’s see what five hundred years of devotion earns you when he discovers what you’ve done.”

Seraphina’s eyes darkened.

She clapped once.

The chamber door opened, and a tall vampire woman in a severe black gown entered with a crystal vial resting on a silver tray.

“Mirelle,” Seraphina said, “bring our guest the Dawnfire.”

I recognized the sharp, bitter scent of poison. Whatever was in that vial had been made to cause pain, not a quick death.

To a vampire, it burned through the blood like liquid sunlight.

“Lady Elara, it may burn a little,” Mirelle said gently. “But the Dawnfire will wash the sin from your soul.”

I sealed my lips and turned away. Her fingers closed around my jaw.

The pressure looked gentle, but my bones creaked beneath her grip.

When pain forced my mouth open, she poured the draught down my throat.

It tasted like bitter metal. Then the burning began.

I doubled over, coughing violently as the poison tore through my stomach. Blood splattered across the pale carpet.

Somewhere deep beneath the castle, Lucian was suffering ten times worse.

Wake up, Lucian.

Please.

Seraphina watched me choke with elegant disappointment.

I lifted my head, blood dripping from my lips.

“When he wakes,” I rasped, “you will regret every drop.”