The blood did not burn.
Aerin had half-expected it to. When Cassius sliced his palm with that obsidian blade and held it out to her, she braced herself for pain—some divine punishment for binding her fate to a creature like him. But when her own blood mingled with his, seeping into the silver bowl etched with runes older than kingdoms, it was… quiet.
Too quiet.
The candle flames in the ceremonial chamber stilled. The air itself grew denser, like breath caught in the lungs of a waiting god.
Cassius spoke the words first, his voice low and precise:
"By blood given and blood taken, by oath sworn and oath kept,I bind myself to the Accord, and to she who bears the name Velas.Until death, or until debt is paid."
Then her turn. Aerin's voice didn't tremble.
"By blood offered and blood shared, by vow spoken and vow sealed,I bind myself to the Accord, and to he who bears the name Thalor.Until death, or until freedom is earned."
The bowl hissed. Then cracked. The blood inside vanished in a blink, absorbed into the engraved symbols beneath it.
Aerin's chest tightened.
It wasn't pain. Not exactly. More like a thread being tied through her ribs, pulling taut toward him. She gasped—only a little—and when she met his gaze, she saw something shift behind those frost-glass eyes.
"You feel it," he murmured.
"Yes," she admitted.
The bond was real now. Not a metaphor, not political theater. Magic had woven them together in ways deeper than rings or ink.
But she still didn't know what it meant.
The ceremony ended in silence.
No witnesses. No priest. No celebration. Just a noblewoman in a plain black dress and a vampire duke with hands stained in ancient rites.
Cassius led her through the western halls without a word. The palace had changed. Or perhaps, it had simply revealed more of itself. The walls here were darker. The chandeliers made of bone-white antlers. Curtains of velvet and thorn-colored silk whispered behind every step.
"Do I get a room?" she asked finally, voice light with just enough defiance.
He didn't look back. "You'll be housed in the Night Wing. It's... secure."
"Is that code for 'no sunlight' or 'no witnesses'?"
That earned a flicker of amusement, but still no smile. "Both, if necessary."
"You're very generous."
He stopped so abruptly she nearly walked into him.
When he turned, his gaze pinned her like a knife. "Do not mistake survival for generosity, Lady Velas. You are here because the court demanded a human bride to honor the Accord. Nothing more. Do not expect kindness."
"I didn't."
"Good."
He resumed walking.
Her chamber was a cathedral of shadows.
High arched ceilings. A four-poster bed dressed in black and silver. Shelves lined with books in languages she couldn't read. A fire already crackling in the hearth—but it gave off no heat.
No mirrors.
Of course.
She ran her fingers along the edge of a carved table. The wood was old. Older than even Cassius, probably. There was dust in the corners, as if no one had lived here in decades. She wondered how many other women had been brought to this wing before her. How many had left.
The door shut behind her with a final-sounding click.
That night, she dreamed of red hands and gold crowns.
Of voices whispering through corridors made of bone. Of her father's eyes just before the blade fell—not pleading, not angry.
Empty.
She woke to the sound of water dripping. Somewhere. The room was cold despite the hearth. Her throat felt dry, her mouth—wrong.
She stumbled to the basin and splashed water on her face.
Her reflection wasn't gone. It was just… blurry. Like she stood behind a veil of smoke.
What the hell did they do to her?
A knock came at the door. She opened it without thinking, half-drenched, hair loose.
The man who stood there blinked once, then bowed.
"Lady Velas," he said. "I've been assigned as your steward."
He was young—maybe a year or two older than her—with bright hazel eyes and a silver badge over his chest in the shape of a raven's wing.
"I'm called Thorne," he added. "The Duke requests your presence for breakfast."
She raised an eyebrow. "He eats?"
"He hosts," Thorne said with the faintest smile. "And so must you."
The dining hall was as vast as it was silent. No music. No servants bustling with plates. Just a long table set for two.
Cassius already sat at one end, dressed in muted grey today, which somehow made him look more dangerous than usual. Before him sat a single glass of deep red liquid.
She didn't ask what it was.
Her place had been set with warm bread, fruit, and a teacup filled with something that smelled like cinnamon and suspicion.
"Is this poisoned?" she asked, settling in.
"No," he replied. "You're worth more alive."
"How comforting."
They ate in silence for a few minutes. Aerin could feel his gaze on her the entire time, like he was measuring something. Waiting for a crack.
Finally, he spoke.
"The Council is expecting you this evening."
"Council?"
"Of the Night Court. Seven seats. One for each noble house. One now belongs to you."
She almost choked on her tea.
"You're joking."
"I don't joke."
She set her cup down. "I thought this was symbolic. I thought I was just here to make the treaty look good."
"Your name carries political weight. The Velas line was once among the most powerful human houses. The court believes this bond renews that influence."
"But I have no allies. No army. No magic."
"You have me," he said simply.
"And that's supposed to reassure me?"
"No. But it will reassure them."
That night, she wore the gown laid out for her—black silk with crimson embroidery. It fit perfectly, which disturbed her more than it should have. As if someone had been measuring her long before the summons came.
Thorne escorted her to the council chamber, through a door carved with ancient sigils that pulsed faintly as she passed.
Inside, seven chairs circled a round stone table.
Six were already filled.
There was a woman with silver hair like river ice and eyes like daggers. A man with skin like burned iron and tattoos that flickered with light. A pair of twins in matching velvet, whispering to one another in a language she didn't know. An old vampire whose face looked carved from stone.
They all turned to her as she entered.
None smiled.
"Lady Velas," Cassius said from the seat at her right. "Welcome to your court."
And far beneath the palace, something ancient opened its eyes. The Accord had been fulfilled, but the blood oath was only beginning to awaken.