Chapter 3
That was nearly all the heartblood I had left.
I stared at the decree, saying nothing.
Caroline stepped protectively in front of me, her voice shaking. "Sir, Ms. Virellian's heartblood has already been divided and handed over to Victoria so many times. How could she possibly still have five hundred left?"
"This is the Council's decree," the envoy replied, his face cold and unmoved. "If you fail to submit it within thirty days, you'll be deemed to have relinquished your status as Blood Mate and your right to reside in the territory."
After he left, Caroline collapsed to the floor.
"Ms. Virellian, this must be Victoria's people scheming in the Council," she choked out.
I folded up the decree and placed it in the iron box, right there with the rest of those mocking letters.
"Bring me some paper and something to write with. I have a few letters to send," I said.
"Who are you writing to?" Caroline asked.
"To the ones who need to know," I replied.
That night, I walked alone into the castle's underground chamber.
It was where the Bennett family's ancient tomes had been stored for generations.
Most were Coven laws and family genealogies—records I was never permitted to see before.
But now that Derek was gone, and he'd taken the servant who guarded the chamber with him, the way was clear.
I pushed open the dusty iron door, letting the pull of my blood guide me to the deepest shelf.
My fingers drifted over rows of yellowed scrolls until they paused on a nameless piece of parchment.
The instant my fingertips touched the parchment, the will of the Sanctblood within me shuddered violently.
Subtle patterns of dark gold shimmered across the surface.
They matched exactly the seventh Mark etched beneath my collarbone.
"Host," the Sanctblood Will spoke, its voice clearer than ever. "This thing is of the same blood as you. You should study it closely."
I unrolled the scroll.
At the top, there was a single line. "When the last of the blood collects all Eight Marks, the Saintess will return."
The last of the blood.
Turned out, the thing everyone laughed at—my so-called fate—was the answer all along.
I slipped the scroll inside my shirt, right next to my skin, and then turned and left the chamber, just as calm as when I'd come in.
Day by day, time slipped by.
The castle felt more and more deserted.
On the fifteenth day after Derek left, he returned far sooner than the three months he'd agreed to.
He'd lost a noticeable amount of weight, his eyes sunken, looking like he'd suffered a great deal.
But there was still a trace of indulgent satisfaction in his expression that he couldn't quite conceal.
I was sitting quietly in the courtyard, eyes closed, letting the moonlight wash over me.
When he came in, I didn't get up to greet him like I always did before.
I just said calmly, "Why are you back?"
He stood frozen in the doorway, like he was caught off guard by how calm I was.
"Victoria asked me to come back. She said Lucas won't be returned until the ceremony is done," he said.
I nodded, expressionless, and went back to resting with my eyes closed.
Maybe the way I stayed so calm made Derek feel a flicker of guilt.
He walked over, crouched down in front of me, and took my hand.
His gaze was heavy with guilt as he said, "Lillian, I'm sorry."
I looked down at him, and for the first time, realized that even an immortal Coven member could show signs of exhaustion.
Eight years had passed.
A single blood tear slipped from Derek's eye onto the back of my hand.
I sat up, hoping to feel the eighth Mark stir within me.
But to my surprise, it remained completely still.
Turned out, even this blood tear was fake.
I smiled softly, gently brushing the tear from his cheek.
"Don't worry, Derek. I'm your Blood Mate. I'll 'understand,'" I said.
Those words hit Derek right where it hurt.
They dragged him back to the memory of the third time we finally—after all the failed attempts—completed our contract ceremony.
That was the time Victoria laced the Blood Grail with Witherblood poison and tricked me into drinking it.
My bloodline ruptured for three days and nights, and I was hanging by a thread—almost wiped out for good.
After Derek brought me back, he looked at Victoria, saw her smug grin, and gave her that same doting smile.
He said, "She wanted to make a scene like everyone else during the ceremony, but she went way too far. Guess I didn't teach her right. That's on me.
"Lillian, now that you're my Blood Mate, you should show the same compassion for the Coven as I do."
For eight years, I kept trying to understand him, so much so that when our son was taken, his first reaction wasn't to rescue him. It was to run straight to Victoria.
Panic flashed across Derek's face as he clung to my hand, like he was terrified I'd slip away from him.
His voice was tentative, almost pleading. "Lillian, do you really mean it? You're not going to walk out on me again, are you?"
I didn't answer and let out a weary stretch, raising a hand to block the fading moonlight.
"I'm tired. I'm going to rest," I said. "After all, as your official Blood Mate, I still have to arrange the grand ceremony for you and Victoria, don't I?"