Chapter 2

In my previous life, the night before I left for the Vampire Court, Vivienne came to my room and brushed my hair.

One hundred strokes, the way our mother used to.

"You're so brave," she whispered. "I could never."

She braided jasmine into my hair — my favorite flower — and I cried into her shoulder, believing every syllable.

What I didn't know was that she'd already met Aldric.

The Vampire King.

She had visited the Court three weeks before the contract arrived, under the pretense of "negotiating terms on behalf of our family." She told me she'd gone to argue for better conditions.

She hadn't.

She had gone to offer herself.

But Aldric's Court physician had tested her blood and found it ordinary. Usable, but ordinary. The Court needed a bride whose blood could sustain the King's power — not merely feed him, but amplify him.

Only my blood could do that.

So Vivienne came home, placed the envelope on my bed, and performed her little show.

I learned all of this in the final week of my previous life, when Aldric's steward — an ancient vampire named Corwin who had served four kings — visited my chamber.

By then, I could barely sit up. My veins had collapsed in seven places. My hair had turned white. I was twenty-three years old and looked sixty.

Corwin had set a cup of warm blood tea on my nightstand — his own blend, the only kindness I received in that castle — and told me the truth.

"Your sister came to us first, my lady. She wanted the crown. When she couldn't have it through blood, she took it through the King's bed."

I had stared at the ceiling.

"Did he know? About the clause — article seventeen?"

Corwin was quiet for a long time.

"He knew, my lady. Everyone knew. Your sister found the page in your quarters and brought it to him on your wedding night. He chose to ignore it. A compatible bride with no knowledge of her own power was... more convenient."

More convenient.

Three years of being strapped to a medical chair every seventy-two hours. Three years of watching Vivienne wear my crown at banquets while I bled into glass jars in the basement.

Convenient.

I died that night. Corwin closed my eyes.

Now — reborn, seventeen again, sitting in the car heading toward the Court — I pressed my forehead against the cold window.

The driver was a Court-appointed vampire. He glanced at me in the rearview mirror.

"Nervous, Miss?"

"No."

He raised an eyebrow. Most human brides arrived sobbing.

I pulled out the contract and read article seventeen again. Then articles eighteen through twenty-four — the ones I'd never reached before.

Article 19: The Eternal Seat holder may command a personal guard of up to twelve Court vampires, selected at her discretion.

Article 21: Any blood extraction exceeding approved limits without the bride's written consent constitutes a violation punishable by —

I stopped reading and smiled.

They had written protections into the contract. Real ones. Detailed ones.

Because the contract was never meant to create a victim.

It was meant to create a queen.

They just never expected the bride to actually read it.

The castle appeared on the horizon — black stone, silver spires, and a sky bruised purple with dusk.

My new home. My old prison.

This time, I walked through the gates with my contract memorized, my blood singing, and my eyes dry.

And the first person I saw was Corwin, standing at the entrance, holding a cup of warm blood tea.

He looked at me — and something ancient flickered behind his eyes.

"Welcome, my lady," he said softly. "You look... different this time."

My heart slammed.

This time?