Chapter 4

Derek stepped forward, reaching for the edge of my dress, trying to say something.

I didn't bother to listen.

It didn't matter anymore.

After all, the only thing left worth waiting for was that final Mark.

After the third time I was poisoned with Witherblood, that was when I made up my mind to sever the bond for good.

I got as far away as possible, wanting nothing more than to never see Derek or Victoria again.

But Derek was absolutely frantic, searching for me everywhere like a man possessed.

And when he found out that after I left, I was being doted on by Duke Sebastian Valentin—a man a hundred times more noble than him—he completely lost it with jealousy.

Back then, my Coven elders saw me as nothing but a disgrace. "Who would ever want you—a barren, withered bloodline—except for that prince?"

When he finally found me, his eyes were brimming with regret and a kind of wounded affection.

He and his elders got down on their knees, pleading with me to come back.

I had no intention of going back, but I fainted on the spot.

When I woke up, Derek's eyes were rimmed red with emotion as he choked out, "Lillian, you're going to be a mother."

The Coven Alchemist, Stanley, said the Witherblood poison hadn't destroyed my essence, and with careful nurturing, I could still carry this blood heir safely.

I agreed.

He was ecstatic, cautious, and attentive in everything he did around me.

Even in his sleep, he'd clutch at me and sob, pleading, "Don't leave me, Lillian. Please, don't leave me."

But what he never realized was that after I fainted that day, an ancient voice echoed deep within my blood.

It told me that all the pain I'd suffered was building up strength for some kind of awakening.

It called itself the Sanctblood Will.

It said that within me slept a bloodline far older than the last of the Coven, and with every soul-deep agony I endured, a Mark of Sorrowblood would awaken.

Once all eight were gathered, the Sanctblood would awaken, the Blood Mate bond would destroy itself, and all shackles would finally be broken.

By then, I'd already awakened more than half of the Marks of Sorrowblood.

So three years ago, when my bloodline ruptured for three days and nights and I was clinging to life to give birth to Lucas, Derek waited outside the birthing chamber the entire time, refusing to leave.

When I finally came to, I saw tears pouring down Derek's face.

"Lillian, I'm sorry. I promise I won't ever let you suffer like this again," Derek said.

The sixth Mark of Sorrowblood began to smolder under my skin, and Lucas's cries brought it fully awake.

I stayed, all for the sake of completing the Eight Marks as quickly as possible.

For those three years, he handled me with the utmost care, and Victoria disappeared without a trace.

It was like he'd forgotten he was the one who stood by and let her tear me apart before our Blood Mate ceremony.

The way he treated me during those years almost made me forget the Sanctblood Will even existed.

But by the third year, his patience finally wore thin.

He went back to Victoria, and their old flame rekindled.

So he let Victoria use Lucas as a bargaining chip, and once again expected me to give in and be the understanding one.

Derek was extremely invested in marrying Victoria.

He was so committed that, even though he usually couldn't care less about negotiations, he personally shelled out a fortune to have a prestigious pureblood lineage forged for Victoria.

He even brought in the most famous captain among the Coven's guards to escort the wedding procession.

After I'd already arranged everything for the ceremony—the blood crystals, ceremonial robes, and Bloodbind Ritual Array—he still had to double-check every detail himself.

Victoria specifically requested that I sew her Bloodbind wedding gown by hand.

Every stitch had to be done to her satisfaction. I couldn't stop until she was happy with it.

Derek didn't hesitate to agree.

Even though I no longer loved him, his actions still pierced my chest, leaving a dull, lingering pain.

So, it turned out he was always capable of taking a wedding seriously—just not with me.

Derek's explanation was simple. "Lillian, we can't afford any slip-ups at the ceremony. After all, Lucas is still in her hands. It's all an act. You've sewn the wedding gown three times already, so I'm sure it's nothing new for you."

As he spoke, Derek couldn't bring himself to meet my eyes, guilt written all over his face.

Derek seemed to be waiting for something, waiting for me to complain about how unfair all this was, to cry and argue with him.

But I simply agreed to everything, one by one, without protest.

The ceremony was three days away.

Day and night, I sat up by the lamp, sewing the wedding gown for the woman I hated most, working straight through until dawn.

My hands were already covered in tiny pinpricks.

When Derek saw the state of my hands, he immediately sat up in his coffin and hurried over, anxiously grabbing my hands to apply ointment.

"Lillian, you fool, this is all an act. Why put yourself through so much pain and make me worry like this?" he said.

But what Derek didn't realize was that since last year—after his elders died in a territorial conflict, and I gathered his seventh Mark of Parting Tears right beside him—the Sanctblood Will granted me a milestone reward: the loss of all five senses.

I actually couldn't feel pain anymore.

I was only doing this because I wanted my freedom.

On the day of the ceremony, Derek claimed he was worried I'd be uncomfortable, so he sent me off with a few attendants to Nocthollow to fetch Lucas.

I knew exactly what he was worried about. He was afraid I'd try to get back at Victoria on the night of the ceremony.

But he never once considered that everyone in Nocthollow was Victoria's people.

Why would they ever treat me well?