Chapter 2

I set the crystal carafe on the long oak table. The scent of warmed blood and spices curled into the air.

Laughter drifted out of the drawing room.

Father, usually buried in Council meetings and the business of running House Ashenveil, sat back in his chair and listened to every word Iris said about the Nocturne Academy.

“We trained under Elder Eldric himself,” she said, her eyes shining. “He said my command of blood was instinctive. Strong enough to rule any court.”

Mother clasped her hand.

“My darling, you've grown so pale. Have you been feeding properly? You need rest. All that training will drain your reserves and dull your senses.”

Beside them, Dax was picking pomegranate seeds out of their rind with the devotion of a personal servant.

I stood in the doorway between the kitchen and the drawing room. Watching. Never invited in.

Their room was bright and full of voices. Everyone leaning in. Everyone listening.

Mine was dark and quiet. Easy to forget.

Iris raised her voice, sweet enough to sound rehearsed.

“Vera, why are you standing over there? Are you still mad at me for ruining your binding?”

The conversation stopped.

Three faces turned toward me as though I were a problem that had come back after they thought it was settled.

Father frowned.

“Come here, Vera. Stop sulking.”

Mother gave me the impatient look she always wore when Iris cried.

“You chose a terrible night. Your sister had just landed, and we were exhausted from going to meet her. Surely you understand that.”

Then she twisted the knife.

“If you're going to hold this against your sister, you're no daughter of mine.”

Iris gasped, eyes wide with practiced concern.

“Mom, don't be so harsh. You'll hurt Vera's feelings.”

The little smile at the corner of her mouth said something else.

She'd known the date. I'd told her a week before.

She'd even replied.

Can't wait! I've got a surprise for you.

Some surprise.

Ever since we were children, Iris had known how to turn anything into a test. An occasion for everyone to choose between us.

They always chose her.

Even people I'd thought were my friends.

I looked at Mother.

For a moment, I waited for her to remember the empty chapel. The cloak I'd embroidered. The invitations I'd sent weeks ago.

She glanced toward Iris instead.

“Well?”

My throat tightened.

“I'm not angry.”

It took more effort than I wanted them to see.

Father's shoulders relaxed. Mother stopped frowning. Iris settled back against her chair.

None of them asked what had happened at the chapel.

I folded my hands beneath the table before they could see them shaking.

Father sighed and forced a smile.

“Good. That's good. We're one House. We don't hold grudges.”

“Of course.” I gave him a small, obedient nod.

It was the voice I used with the elders at the midnight rites.

Relief passed across their faces.

They turned back to Iris.

Dinner began.

Alongside my bloodwine, the maid served the human delicacies Iris still liked to eat for pleasure: crab, scallops in lemon butter, little dishes of fruit. But it was the blood they kept pressing on her.

“You're wasting away,” Father murmured, filling her goblet again.

“Drink up. You'll need your strength for the succession trials,” Mother said, dabbing at her eyes.

Dax grinned.

“And if any of those city-bred leeches give you trouble, I'll rip their throats out.”

Iris laughed, her golden hair catching the candlelight.

“Please. I can handle them.”

They all chuckled.

I drank in silence. The warm blood did nothing for the cold inside me.

For the first time that evening, Mother looked at me.

She hesitated, then reached for the carafe and topped up my goblet.

“Have some more. Don't think we don't care about you just because we're looking after Iris. I care about you too.”

It sounded rehearsed. A line she'd said so often she no longer had to think about it.

I looked at the wine and set down my glass.

“No, thank you. I've had enough.”

Her expression shifted from surprise to irritation.

“What's gotten into you lately?”

She was about to say more when Iris clutched at her throat.

“Mom. I—something's wrong—”

Her voice broke. A harsh gasp scraped out of her, though it wasn't air her body needed. Dark veins began spreading beneath her skin.

She lurched backward, knocking over her chair.

The room erupted.

“Iris!” Mother screamed.

“What's happening?” Father shot to his feet so fast the table shook.

Dax was already beside her, bending close to catch the scent of her blood. His eyes flared red, every instinct of a House guard awake.

“Her blood's turning. Something's wrong!”

I felt a hard tightening in my chest. Not fear. Something quieter, twisted by the bitter predictability of it all.

In the chaos, no one noticed that I hadn't moved.

Vespa stirred at the edge of my thoughts.

It's in her blood, Vera. Something she swallowed. Her body is fighting it.