Chapter 4

Elias pointed to the first vial. "Identify the rank."

I didn't even uncork it. I only glanced once. "Low-rank. Embraced less than three months ago. The blood is cloudy, and the silver-powder reaction skews grey, which means this one hasn't been acknowledged by any clan yet."

Elias froze, then flipped open his ledger to check. "Correct."

Second vial.

I said, "Mid-rank, likely from the Redthorn clan. There's a scent of rotting roses in the blood, which suggests a former noble who retained part of their bloodline power after being turned."

Elias's expression shifted. "Correct."

When the third vial was placed before me, I hadn't even opened my mouth before a familiar scent reached me.

It smelled of cold snow, black roses, and the faint tang of iron.

My stomach lurched.

This was Lucien's blood.

More precisely, it was a sample collected by hunters when he fled last night.

Elias watched me. "The third vial is a sample delivered last night. It hasn't been entered into the records yet."

The hall fell silent.

Everyone was waiting for my answer.

I stared at the vial, my fingers slowly tightening.

In my previous life, I'd drunk Lucien's blood.

When we sealed the Blood Bond, he'd slit his own wrist and let me drink.

He told me, "This is the highest form of trust."

Only later did I learn that for a vampire, letting a human drink your blood isn't necessarily trust.

It can be a mark.

It can be a claim of possession.

It can be a chain.

I swallowed the nausea and spoke. "High-rank vampire.

"Not only any high-rank vampire, but one from a side branch of the royal line.

"The blood shows his silver-inflicted wounds are healing slowly, which means he was badly injured last night.

"But there's no decay, so he's still alive.

"Clan affiliation..."

I paused.

Elias held his breath.

I spoke, word by word. "The Black Rose Court."

The hall erupted.

Someone said, "The Black Rose Court?"

Another echoed, "Isn't that the Prince's bloodline?"

Someone else chimed in, "The one who fled into Mistport last night. Was that the Prince?"

Martin's face went ashen.

For the first time, the way he looked at me carried genuine wariness.

Even Elias's voice had changed. "How did you know?"

I lifted my gaze. "Blood never lies."

I knew that sickening blood far too well.

For the third live-combat test, the Guild sent Martin.

He was clearly seething. When he stepped into the ring, he made a show of rolling his shoulders. "Ms. Moren, blades don't care who they cut."

I drew my silver knife. "Mm. Watch yourself."

Martin scoffed and lunged.

He wasn't slow.

Three silver pins meant he was no pushover.

But his weaknesses were obvious.

Too eager, too showy. An old injury in his right shoulder hadn't fully healed, and every time he struck, his left flank stayed wide open.

I sidestepped, and my blade kissed the inside of his wrist.

Martin hissed, his rhythm broken.

I spun and drove the pommel hard into his exposed ribs.

He grunted and dropped to one knee.

I didn't stop.

The silver blade came to rest against his throat.

The only sound left in the training ground was the rain.

I looked down at him. "Blades really don't care who they cut.

"So next time, before you run your mouth, count how many lives you've got."

Martin's face was chalk-white. His Adam's apple bobbed against the edge of the blade.

Elias finally recovered. "Vera. All three tests, passed."

He paused, eyes moving from Moren to me. "As of today, you are a probationary hunter of the Guild."

I sheathed my knife.

Someone in the crowd began to clap.

A few scattered claps came at first, then more and more joined in.

I didn't smile.

I knew joining the Guild was only the first step.

This place was no safe haven.

It was another forest, deeper and darker.

And this time, I'd walked in of my own free will.