VERA’S POV

I pulled the velvet cloak tighter and stayed at the edge of the ballroom, half-hidden behind one of the stone pillars. The ceremony was already underway. The light from the candles flickered across polished floors and pale faces, all arranged to look reverent, unified, strong.

The High Priestess began the usual speech. “We gather under the Blood Moon—”

I stopped listening. I knew every word. I’d rehearsed them once, believed in them.

My hands curled. That strange heat in my chest pulsed again, faint but steady. It had been doing that more often lately—responding to anger, stress, even silence.

Lady Vela stood near the front, looking satisfied. Neressa leaned in to whisper something, probably cruel. No one had noticed I was missing. Or maybe they had and decided not to care.

Celene had said it out loud. She’s not human. That’s royal blood. I couldn’t forget her voice when she said it—shaken, uncertain.

But how could that be?

I wasn’t born in some lost royal bloodline. I wasn’t raised in a court or chosen by prophecy. I grew up in a normal town. My blood was mine—ordinary, human.

Wasn’t it?

I pressed my hand to my chest, just above where the pulse kept burning low and slow. Something had changed. I just didn’t know when, or why.

Or what that made me now.

The High Priestess continued, her voice rising with the ritual words. “Lord Lucien Shadowmere, step forward and declare your intentions before the court and the ancient blood.”

Lucien stepped into the circle, magnificent in his ceremonial black attire. The Shadowmere pendant gleamed against his chest, catching the candlelight. His face was solemn, composed, revealing nothing of whatever conflict might exist within him.

“I come seeking the blessing of the blood moon,” he declared, his deep voice carrying easily across the ballroom. “I come to forge bonds that will strengthen our house and secure our future.”

“And who comes to join with the Lord of Shadowmere?” the Priestess asked.

Celene stepped forward, resplendent in a gown of deep crimson that seemed to pulse with its own inner light. Her flame-red hair was adorned with rubies that sparkled with her every movement. She was breathtaking, the kind of beauty that commanded attention and respect.

“I, Lady Celene of Blackthorne, come to join with Lord Lucien Shadowmere,” she announced, her voice clear and confident. “I bring the strength of my bloodline and the alliance of my house.”

The Priestess nodded, satisfaction in her ancient eyes. “The blood moon hears your intentions. Let the bonding chalice be brought forth.”

A silver chalice, ornate and ancient, was carried forward on a velvet cushion. The ritual blade gleamed beside it, sharp enough to cut through vampire skin. This was the moment where they would share blood, where their bond would be sealed before the entire court.

“Now,” I whispered to myself, stepping out from the shadows.

I walked slowly, deliberately, each step heavy with purpose. The black cloak billowed behind me, a stark contrast to the ceremonial colors worn by everyone else. Conversations hushed as I approached. Heads turned, and a ripple of shock passed through the gathering.

I felt Lucien’s eyes on me before I saw him, the weight of his gaze like a physical touch. When I finally looked at him, the flash of panic on his face sent a savage thrill through me. For once, I had caught him off-guard. For once, I held the power.

“Lady Vera,” someone whispered, the title carrying through the sudden silence.

I didn’t acknowledge them, keeping my eyes fixed on Lucien as I walked directly into the center of the circle. Celene’s expression darkened, confusion and anger battling across her perfect features.

“What is the meaning of this interruption?” Lady Vela demanded, stepping forward only to be halted by the High Priestess’s raised hand.

The old woman studied me carefully, her ancient eyes missing nothing, not the determination in my stance, nor the way the air seemed to shimmer around me with barely contained power. She recognized the preparations for what they were.

“Do you come to object?” she asked formally, though I could see she already knew the answer.

Whispers erupted around us. An objection would force the ceremony to halt, and would demand a council meeting to resolve the dispute. It would create precisely the kind of scandal Lady Vela and Lucien had been trying to avoid.

“No,” I replied, my voice carrying across the ballroom with a resonance that made several vampires step back. “I have come to finish what he started.”

The whispers intensified. Confusion spread across faces. Lucien took a half-step toward me before catching himself.

“Vera,” he said, my name barely audible, a warning or a plea, I couldn’t tell which.

“You chose another,” I continued, my voice growing stronger with each word. “You brought her to taste, to test, to compare against me like I was nothing more than a vintage to be sampled and discarded.”

“That’s not what happened,” Lucien said, but his voice lacked conviction.

“Isn’t it?” I laughed, and the sound carried a new power that made the candles flicker. “You fed from her in front of me. You let her mock me, belittle me, poison me. And now you would bind yourself to her while I watch from the shadows.”

Celene stepped forward, her face flushed with anger. “You’re being dramatic, Vera. This is vampire politics. You should understand—”

“I understand perfectly,” I cut her off, my golden eyes blazing. “I understand that you’re a parasite who feeds on others’ pain. I understand that you think you’ve won.”

“I have won,” Celene snarled, her fangs extending. “He chose me. My blood. My power. What can you possibly offer that I cannot?”

I smiled, and several vampires stepped back at the sight of it. “You’re about to find out.”

“Lucien Shadowmere,” I said, “under the blood moon, I sever our bond.”

Gasps echoed through the gathering. The severance ritual was ancient, rarely invoked, and never without grave cause. Lady Vela’s face drained of what little color it had. Even Neressa looked shocked.

“This bond is broken,” I declared, my voice echoing with ancient authority. “I revoke it. You’ll never taste my blood again.”

I felt the connection between Lucien and me snap like a severed rope, and he fell to his knees, clutching his chest as if something had torn inside him, which it had.

Our bond, ripping apart fiber by fiber. His vampire nature howled inside his mind, I could feel the echo of it across our rapidly dissolving connection, a sharp, echoing sound of loss and pain.