Stolen Identity, Forced Marriage
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."