Chapter 8

At Vincent's immediate, baseless accusation, I didn't back down. I just laughed, a cold, sharp sound.

"Apologize to her?" I scoffed. "For that pathetic little performance?"

Vincent's brow tightened, his face grim. "I saw you push her into the silver with my own eyes."

"Camilla's bloodline is already failing. Why would she deliberately hurt herself?"

"Are you truly that blind? A Prince who can't distinguish a lie from the truth." My tone was ice. "If you want the truth, read her surface memories. See if I pushed her, or if she threw herself!"

At the words "read her memories," Camilla's supposedly weak body went rigid.

A flash of panic crossed her eyes, and in the next instant, they rolled back and she collapsed into Vincent's arms.

"Forget it, Vincent. It's normal for Elena to be angry. After all, I did use her wedding gown… Let's just go. My chest… it hurts so much…"

I saw right through her act.

She was afraid Vincent would actually probe her memories, so she feigned a swoon.

As expected, Vincent panicked. He immediately swept Camilla into his arms.

That night, he didn't return to the castle.

I guessed he was busy using his own pure blood to soothe Camilla's "bloodline spasms."

The next morning, I sent all my luggage to the Supreme Institute in Florence via a teleportation array.

In the vast princely bedchamber, only a small case of my personal effects remained.

Not a single trace of me remained.

Late that night, the castle doors opened.

Vincent returned, carrying the faint scent of another's blood, his expression etched with anger and exhaustion.

He had clearly given up a significant amount of his own pure blood to heal Camilla's silver burns.

"Camilla is still in the healing chamber."

He approached me. "Even if you didn't mean to, as the future Princess Consort, you could have shown some grace. Must you pick a fight with a dying woman?"

I laughed, a bone-chillingly cold sound.

I had been more than generous.

Generous enough to let her have my title, generous enough to let her wear the ice-silk gown that held all my dreams.

Vincent's gaze fell on the parchment calendar on the table.

The circled date was tomorrow.

His tone softened as he reached for me. "Alright, the Unification Ceremony is tomorrow. I don't want to fight anymore."

"After the ritual, apologize to her. For the sake of our clan's dignity, we will let this matter drop."

"Then we'll go on our honeymoon. Have you made the arrangements?"

I didn't respond.

If he had been paying any attention at all, he would have noticed long ago.

This castle, the supposed venue for a grand ceremony, was devoid of a single Nether Rose, the flower of union.

Did this look like a place preparing for a wedding tomorrow?

"Vincent…"

I was about to speak when his phone rang.

He answered. Camilla's weak plea for help came through the line.

"Wait for me. I'm on my way."

He cut the call and strode toward the door.

"Camilla's blood bond is unstable. I have to check on her in the hidden chamber. Don't be late for the ceremony tomorrow. Be at the clan's Sacred Hall on time."

In the instant he crossed the threshold, just as the door began to close, I looked at his retreating back and said softly:

"Vincent, we're done."

The door slammed shut, drowning out my voice completely.

He left in such a hurry that he didn't hear me. But it no longer mattered.

I sat in the empty hall until dawn.

A message from my mentor arrived. Two hours until departure.

I drew a heavy X over tomorrow's date on the calendar, the day of my Unification Ceremony.

Then, I spread out a piece of ancient parchment.

With the magic of a high-born vampire, I wrote two final words: Pact Annulled.

I placed the parchment in the center of the table and walked away from the gilded cage that had imprisoned me for two centuries, without a single backward glance.

Meanwhile, Vincent stayed by the healing pool until Camilla's bloodline stabilized.

Elena's emotionless eyes from the moment he left kept flashing through his mind.

He stood, preparing to rush to the clan's Sacred Hall.

On the way, he sent a telepathic message through our private bond.

Are the wards at the ceremony site in place? I'm on my way.

There was no response.

He scrolled through their message history.

For the past month, almost all the messages had been trivial notes from her.

What time will you be back at the castle tonight? I've mixed a new blood drink.

The menu for the ceremony's blood feast. Do you have time to confirm it?

I chose Nether Roses for the Sacred Hall's decorations. Is that alright?

And his replies were always cold and dismissive: Fine. You decide. Whatever.

An unfamiliar panic began to coil in his chest.

He remembered telling her about the mock wedding with Camilla. Elena's gaze had been unnervingly calm.

And from that day on, she had stopped initiating contact through their bond and no longer waited up for him.

He quickened his pace.

But surely Elena had arranged everything. She was always so meticulous.

When he arrived at the Sacred Hall, he realized he had no idea what the ceremony actually entailed. Elena had never explained the details, and he had never bothered to ask.

He strode toward the head steward of the Sacred Hall.

"Which dressing chamber is Lady Elena in?"

The head steward's face went white, and his entire body began to tremble.

"Your Highness…"

"Lady Elena had all the ceremonial wards dismantled two weeks ago. She said the wedding was canceled."