I didn’t sleep.

After Livia returned to the Prince’s Chambers, Darius went up with her.

“Her soul is still unstable,” was the only explanation he gave.

I sat in our empty suite, the feeling of their soul-merge replaying in my mind.

The fracture in our soul-link ached, a constant, painful reminder.

Then I remembered.

Three weeks ago.

That night.

Darius had said he was heading out to deal with a border skirmish with the Hunters. He didn't come back until the next morning.

I was so relieved when he finally returned.

His clothes carried the faint, ritualistic scent of myrrh, ancient wood, and consecrated earth—the unmistakable scent of a blood-oath rite.

I’d even asked him, “Were you at the sanctuary?”

He said, “Just passing by.”

I never imagined he would betray me. Betray our eternity.

Now I understood.

He had forged the Eternal Bond with Livia that night.

And I, like a fool, had been sitting here worried sick about him.

At dawn, my encrypted comm buzzed.

A message from Vienna.

“Dear Miss Isolde, we formally invite you to join our research project on primal blood magic. It is the highest honor for a blood-healer and the perfect place for your talents. Should you be interested, we hope for a reply within the week.”

I stared at the screen.

It was the opportunity I had dreamed of for centuries.

And it was my only way out.

When Darius walked in, I was packing my alchemy instruments.

“What are you doing?”

“Packing my things,” I said without looking up. “Since the Prince’s Chambers have a new occupant, I don’t want to be in the way.”

“Isolde, listen to me—”

“There’s nothing to talk about.” I stood up and met his gaze. “The blood-oath ceremony,” I stated, my voice dangerously calm, “is cancelled.”

The color drained from Darius’s face.

“You can’t do that.”

“I can,” I said, turning back to my packing. “I won’t be bound to a Prince who’s already given his Eternal Bond to another.”

“I told you, it’s temporary!” he roared, grabbing my arm. “I’ll break it in a year!”

“And then what?” I shook him off. “You think I’ll ever trust you again?”

A flicker of pain crossed Darius’s eyes. “Her life source is failing, Isolde. I can’t just watch her die.”

“Why?” I demanded. “Because you owe her? Owe her for what?”

Darius fell silent, his lips a hard, thin line.

“If you won’t tell me, then we have nothing to talk about.” I started for the door.

“Wait!” Darius stumbled after me, and his tall frame sank to one knee before me. “I swear to you, in one year, I will give you the grandest ceremony this continent has ever seen. All the ancient houses will be there to witness it.”

I looked at him, standing there.

I felt no pity. Only a bitter, absurd sense of injustice.

Were our five hundred years together, our fated bond, really going to end over a lie?

Was I really going to give up this easily?

In that moment of hesitation, the elevator doors opened.

Livia stepped out.

Seeing Darius, a fleeting, triumphant smirk crossed her lips.

She walked right up to me and deliberately pulled open the collar of her robe.

“Isolde,” she said softly, her voice full of fake concern, “I know you’re a blood-healer, too. Darius’s princely power is so strong. I’ve felt so much better since we forged the bond, but… it left this brand on me. Can you tell me if it looks right? As a healer, you would know.”

I followed her finger.

To Darius’s chest.

There, where a sacred sigil meant for me should have been, was an unholy mark.

It was more than a mark; it was a soul-brand, glowing with a faint light that repulsed me on instinct.

The center of the ancient family sigil, which should have been blank, waiting for my name to be inscribed during our ceremony…

Now had a name tattooed in arcane ink:

Livia.

A mark like that would take at least three weeks to settle.

I looked up, my eyes ice-cold, and threw a betrothal token I had made for him at his feet.

“Congratulations,” my voice was glacially cold. “It seems this ‘mark’ was made long before your ‘temporary bond.’”

Then, without a second glance at his shocked and questioning face, I walked back to my room.

I looked at the calendar, at the bright red circle around the date of our blood-oath ceremony.

Now, it was my departure date.

Thirteen days until my escape.

I opened the parchment message from Vienna and hit reply.

“I accept your offer.”

Darius didn’t come back to our chambers that night.

I knew where he was.

The next morning, I opened the Coven’s internal feed.

The top post was a new announcement.

Prince Darius has taken a priceless Soul-Crystal from the Coven’s vault to maintain his blood bond with Livia.

The comments exploded.

“Our Prince forged an Eternal Bond with someone else?”

“But isn’t Isolde his fated mate?”

“I heard that woman, Livia, moved into the Prince’s Chambers.”

“Isn’t the blood-oath ceremony next week?”

I shut off the comm.

At noon, I met my best friend, Chloe.

“You what?” Chloe’s voice was so sharp it nearly shattered her wine glass. “You’re calling off the ceremony?”

“That’s right.”

“Are you insane? He’s your fated mate!”

“A fated mate doesn’t forge an Eternal Bond with someone else right before the ceremony,” I said calmly, sipping my blood-substitute. “And he certainly doesn’t get another woman’s name tattooed on the sacred sigil meant for me.”

Chloe gasped. “The sacred sigil?”

I slid my phone across the table, showing her the picture I’d taken of the sigil on Darius’s chest.

“That manipulative bitch!” Chloe slammed her hand on the table. “She played you!”

“Maybe,” I shrugged. “But it doesn’t matter anymore.”

“Isolde, you can’t just give up. Darius loves you.”

“Loves me?” I gave a bitter laugh. “Does someone who loves you complete an Eternal Bond with another woman behind your back?”

Chloe fell silent.

“I’ve accepted the offer from the Vienna Academy.” I said, standing.

“So soon?”

“If I stay any longer,” I told her, “I’m afraid I’ll do something I won’t regret.”

At eleven that night, I returned to our suite after an ancient texts symposium.

The gathering had been a success.

I’d met several vampires from Europe, including a few Princes I’d never seen before.

When the elevator doors opened, Darius was standing there.

His eyes were cold, his nostrils flaring slightly. “Where were you?”

“A symposium.”

“With who?” he pressed.

“Some colleagues.”

Darius stalked toward me like a predator closing in on its prey. “Don’t lie to me. I can smell another man on your soul. A Prince.”

His hand shot out, cupping my chin and forcing my head up, his lips almost touching mine.

It was a punishing, possessive gesture.

“So what if you can?” I stared right back at him.

A dangerous light flashed in his eyes. “Get away from him,” he snarled, his eyes flashing. “And go wash that Prince’s stench off you before you come near me again.”

“You have no right to order me around.”

“I am your fated mate!”

“No, you’re not,” I pushed him away and walked past him. “You’re Livia’s.”

I headed for our chambers, Darius close behind.

But he didn’t argue. He went straight to the armchair by the fireplace, sat down, and closed his eyes.

I knew what he was doing.

A mental link.

His expression softened, and through our strained bond, I could feel his whispered thoughts.

To Livia.

Our power will grow stronger. Healthier.

Our power.

He was already looking forward to it.

I turned to go back to my room.

“Isolde.”

His voice stopped me.

“There’s something I need to talk to you about. Regarding the ceremony.”

I stopped and turned, my face an icy mask. “What now?”

“It’s about the Rite of the Crimson Fountain.” He opened his eyes, and they held an unquestionable command. “I need to postpone it.”

“Why.” It wasn’t a question.

“Livia’s soul is still unstable with the bond. The blood-healer said the pure energy of the Crimson Fountain would be good for her.”

He paused, seeming to search for the right words.

The Rite of the Crimson Fountain. The highest honor. The moment we were supposed to receive the blessing of our ancestors in the clan’s sacred blood pool.

“So I’ve decided… she will undergo the rite in your place.”

If she undergoes the rite.

He said it so casually, as if he were rescheduling a meeting.

It was the highest honor for a Prince’s mate, the moment you received the blessing of the entire Coven.

A sacred moment we had dreamed of together.

My heart was numb.

I couldn’t even feel the pain anymore.

I answered in the calmest voice I could manage. “Fine.”

My silence seemed to unnerve him more than any screaming match would have. “You… have nothing to say?”

“No.”

“…Good.” A flicker of relief crossed his face, as if he’d been expecting a much bigger fight.

He continued in a business-like tone. “I’m taking Livia to a private estate outside Seattle. You handle the ceremony preparations. And don’t bother me with the details unless the sky is falling.”

He cut the link.

I walked to my alchemy lab.

It was once filled with vials of Eternal Blood I had carefully brewed for our ceremony, stored in precious crystal decanters.

I had imagined using them to fortify our bond, to protect our eternity.

Darius had never once set foot in here.

He’d said he wasn’t interested in “all these bottles and jars.”

Now, they were meaningless.

With a strangled cry, I grabbed the first precious vial—a potion of stilled starlight—and hurled it against the stone wall.

The sharp crack of shattering crystal and the rich scent of precious elixirs filled the air.

It was a funeral for a future that had already died.

Each one represented a betrayed hope.

When the last shard of stardust potion had settled, I took out my phone and opened the calendar.

Over the date I had marked countless times for the Rite of the Crimson Fountain, I drew a heavy, red X.

Countdown: twelve days.