Chapter 3

Corwin's words echoed in my skull as he led me through the castle's east corridor.

This time.

Did he remember? Was that even possible?

Vampires lived for centuries. Their memories were long. But remembering a different timeline — that wasn't memory. That was something else.

I studied his profile as we walked. He was tall, gaunt, impeccably dressed in a charcoal suit that looked older than my country. His hands were clasped behind his back, and he moved without sound.

"Corwin," I said carefully. "Have we met before?"

He paused mid-step. Just barely — a fraction of a second — then resumed walking.

"All human brides from your bloodline share a certain... resonance, Miss Scarlett. Perhaps that's what you're sensing."

A diplomatic non-answer. I filed it away.

He brought me to my chambers — the same ones from before. East wing, third floor, overlooking the garden of night-blooming cereus.

But the room was different.

Last time, it had been bare: a bed, a chair, a locked window. A holding cell dressed in silk.

This time, there were bookshelves. A writing desk. A wardrobe filled with clothes in my size. And on the nightstand — a small glass vial of jasmine oil.

My throat tightened.

"The King ordered these prepared," Corwin said, watching my face. "He asked what you might like. I took some liberties."

"You chose the jasmine."

"You wore it in your hair when you arrived. The scent suits you."

He set the cup of blood tea on the nightstand — same place, same gesture — and moved toward the door.

"Corwin."

He stopped.

"Article seventeen," I said. "The Eternal Seat clause. Is the Court physician's blood compatibility test conducted before or after the wedding?"

His back was to me. I watched his shoulders tense, then release.

"Before, my lady. It was completed three weeks ago, when your sister visited."

"And my results?"

Silence.

"Your compatibility rating was the highest recorded in four hundred years."

The air in the room changed.

"Does the King know that?"

"Yes."

"Does my sister?"

Another pause. Longer this time.

"She... was informed that her own results were insufficient. Whether she investigated yours, I cannot say."

He could say. He simply chose not to. I respected that — for now.

"One more question. When is the blood bonding ceremony?"

"Three days after the wedding. It is when the King first draws from his bride. It formalizes the contract."

In my last life, the bonding ceremony had been a horror. Aldric's fangs in my neck while Vivienne watched from the gallery, wearing a smile I was too naive to decode.

"And if the bride refuses the bonding?"

Corwin turned fully now, his ancient eyes meeting mine.

"In eight hundred years, no bride has refused."

"That's not what I asked."

The ghost of something — respect, maybe — crossed his face.

"If the bride refuses, article twenty-two applies. The King must negotiate new terms. The bride retains her status and her blood. The contract remains active but... shifts power considerably."

I nodded slowly.

"Thank you, Corwin. That will be all."

He bowed and left.

I sat on the bed, pulling the contract from my coat. The parchment was warm now — it had been against my skin for hours, absorbing my heat, my scent, my intent.

Three days to the wedding. Three more to the bonding.

Six days to change everything.

I unscrewed the jasmine oil and dabbed it on my wrists.

Then I began to plan.

That night, a knock came at midnight. I opened the door to find a velvet box with no note.

Inside: a necklace — a single blood-red ruby on a silver chain.

I recognized it. In my last life, Vivienne had worn this at every banquet, telling everyone the King had gifted it to her.

It had been meant for me all along.

I clasped it around my neck, and the ruby pulsed once against my collarbone — warm, almost alive.

From somewhere deep in the castle, I heard a sharp intake of breath.

He felt that.

Good.