VERA’S POV

The sparring session with Caelen wasn’t for another hour, and I needed to get out of my head before he started pointing out every one of my flaws with that smug tone he thought was helpful.

The royal library was quiet—too quiet.

I wandered past shelves of territorial agreements, blood magic theory, ancient coven records… I wasn’t looking for anything specific, until I saw it.

A leather-bound book, worn at the edges, tucked between two volumes of dusty war records. The name etched on the cover in faded silver stopped me cold.

Mara Nightshade.

My mother.

My hand trembled as I reached for it. No one had ever told me there was a journal of hers. Not in all the stories. Not from my father. Not even from the High Seer.

I opened it slowly, reverently. The scent of aged paper and night-blooming jasmine drifted up. Her handwriting was delicate but precise. Familiar in a way I couldn’t explain.

Day 42. The power is changing again. I felt it in my veins last night, like the ancestors were whispering through my blood. The stronger it gets, the more I feel pulled. I’ve tried to tell Aldric, but he insists I keep it hidden. If they knew I was drawing from the Blood, the old magic, they’d brand me a traitor.

I blinked, rereading it.

The Blood.

I turned another page.

They told us it was forbidden. But how can something forbidden feel like home? I can see things when I let go—visions, shapes, voices not of this time. My vampire nature responds to it, not in fear but in hunger. It’s like she knows this magic was once ours.

My hands gripped the pages tighter.

I wasn’t breathing—a habit I still maintained despite not needing to.

If anything happens to me, I hope Vera inherits this strength. I hope she’s not afraid of it. I hope she’s not lied to, the way I was.

Something sharp burned behind my eyes. I flipped another page, and suddenly everything blurred.

The library faded.

And then I heard a whisper.

Blood calls to blood.

I staggered backward, dropping the book to the table with a thud. My head spun. Visions flickered behind my eyes, flashes of unfamiliar vampires, women in ancient garb chanting under blood moons, a river of crimson light flowing through shadowed forests.

And then silence.

“What the hell is this?” I whispered, clutching the table edge.

No one told me about this.

No one warned me I might be connected to something older, deeper, dangerous.

I needed answers.

I stormed through the corridor leading to the royal war chamber, clutching the journal to my chest.

Two guards at the door stiffened as I approached.

“The King is in a meeting,” one said.

“I need to see him.”

“He gave strict instructions—”

I narrowed my eyes, letting just a hint of power bleed through. “I’m his daughter. Let me in.”

The hesitation was brief. Then the doors creaked open.

I stepped inside and froze.

“…She’s not ready,” a councilman was saying. “Even Caelen admits it.”

Silence followed.

My stomach dropped.

“She’s powerful, yes, but that alone doesn’t make her fit to rule,” the voice continued. “If your own chosen advisor questions her capacity, perhaps it’s time to reconsider her appointment.”

I couldn’t move.

Caelen told them I wasn’t fit?

I backed out quickly. My lungs refused to cooperate, my heartbeat was deafening as I raced away.

Maren nearly collided with me in the corridor. She was flushed, panting, scrolls tucked beneath her arm.

“I’ve been looking all around for you, Princess.”

I didn’t stop walking.

“Where is he?” I asked, voice razor-sharp.

Maren blinked. “Who?”

“Caelen.”

“Oh—he’s at the training grounds. Waiting for you.”

Perfect.

Without another word, I pivoted and charged through the halls, vision red and pulse boiling.

The journal was still under my arm. I didn’t care.

The moment I stepped onto the training field, I saw him, leaning against a marble pillar, arms crossed, face irritatingly relaxed. He looked up at the sound of my boots hitting the stone path.

“Vera—”

My fist met his jaw before he finished the sentence.

He staggered, blinking like someone had just slapped the arrogance out of him.

I shook with fury.

“How dare you?” I snarled.

His eyes snapped back to mine, wide. “What the hell was that for?”

“You told them,” I hissed. “You told the council I wasn’t ready.”

“I—what are you talking about?”

“Don’t lie to me!” I stepped closer, the journal clutched against my chest. “I heard them. They said even Caelen admits I’m not fit to rule.”

His expression shifted, confusion giving way to something darker. “You were eavesdropping?”

“I was trying to see my father when I heard your little assessment of my capabilities.”

“Vera, listen to me—”

“No, you listen to me.” I poked his chest with my finger. “I trusted you. I thought you were actually trying to help me, not sabotage me behind my back.”

“I never—”

“Then explain it!” I shouted. “Explain why the council thinks you agree I’m not ready!”