Chapter 3

Elena unwrapped the rough cloth from her wrist. The wound was festering, pus and fresh blood mixing in a way that made her skin crawl. She gritted her teeth and cleaned it with strong liquor, her whole body shaking from the pain.

But no matter how much it hurt, it was nothing compared to the look Victor had given her just now.

Victor had looked at her like she was an insect, utterly insignificant.

She remembered that night in the burial ground, when he had grabbed her hand in his unconsciousness and begged her over and over, "Don't go." She had thought it was need, or trust, maybe even the only light she could hold on to in her dark life.

But it turned out the light was only temporary. The moment he opened his eyes, it was gone.

She sprinkled the powder over her wound, and suddenly her fingertips started to burn.

That pendant...

She suddenly remembered that the Reith family's blood pendants were a pair. The dragon pendant drew in fire energy, while the phoenix pendant drew in ice energy. She had nourished the pendant with her own blood, forging a blood bond with it. If the dragon pendant was worn by a man and the phoenix by a woman, and the two pendants resonated with each other, then...

She didn't have time to think it through before she heard hurried footsteps outside the door.

It was Victor's personal guard, his face expressionless. "His Highness orders you to go to the princess consort's courtyard immediately. She's unwell and your blood is needed for her treatment."

Elena froze.

Blood for medicine.

Those words felt like knives, pinning her in place.

She thought saving him would be enough, that handing him over to his "savior" would be enough. But she'd forgotten. Yvonne wanted more than just the pendant, more than just the title of princess consort.

She wanted Elena's life.

"What are you standing around for?" the guard snapped, growing impatient. "His Highness said the princess consort's health is priceless. Even if you bleed dry, you still have to offer your blood as the medicine's catalyst."

Elena slowly stood up and picked up the silver knife from the table.

The blade gleamed with a chilling light under the candle, just like the one that had severed her father's head on the execution ground five years ago.

"Very well," Elena said quietly. "I'll go now."

She followed the guard out of the medicine room. As the night breeze brushed past her, she suddenly felt the wound on her wrist begin to burn once more.

It was as if the blood pendant, somewhere far away, was silently beckoning to her.

Yvonne's "illness" showed up at the most convenient moment.

It started with a lack of appetite, then sleepless nights, and before long, she was coughing up blood and passing out. Imperial doctors came one after another, all repeating the same diagnosis: "Her energy and blood are dangerously low. She needs a strong tonic." But even after stuffing herself with enough ginseng and deer antler to fill a storeroom, she just kept wasting away.

"Your Highness," the chief imperial physician knelt, trembling. "The princess consort's condition isn't something ordinary medicine can fix."

Victor stood by Yvonne's bedside, watching her face turn as pale as paper. It reminded him of that night in the burial ground, when he'd looked just like this. He turned his gaze to Elena, who was standing in the corner holding a medicine tray. "Isn't this healer in your household famous for using blood as medicine?"

Elena's fingers trembled, and the medicine tray nearly slipped from her grasp.

"Your Highness is right!" Yvonne's personal maid immediately knelt. "I saw it myself. Elena once used her own blood to save a dying cat!"

As soon as those words were spoken, everyone in the room turned to look at Elena.

She kept her head down, feeling those gazes like needles, stabbing her with nowhere to hide. That cat had been thrown into a snake pit by Yvonne, and Elena had only saved it out of pity. Now, it was being twisted into proof that she was "skilled at blood-based medicine."

"In that case," Victor said, his voice emotionless. "Starting today, draw three measures of blood from her every day for the princess consort's medicine."

Three measures, no more, no less. It was the exact amount she'd drained from herself every day in the past, all to save him.

Elena's grip on the medicine tray tightened until her knuckles turned white. "Yes, my lord... as you command."

The bloodletting was carried out in full view, leaving Elena nowhere to hide.

In Yvonne's bedroom, the heavy scent of exotic incense mingled with medicine, making Elena dizzy. She knelt at the foot of the bed, rolled up her sleeve, and exposed her wrist, layer upon layer of scars, each more brutal than the last.

New wounds overlapped old ones, forming a grotesque centipede crawling across her skin.

Yvonne reclined on the couch, covering her lips with a handkerchief, her voice frail. "Elena, thank you for your sacrifice. Once I'm well, I'll ask His Highness to reward you."

Elena stayed silent. She simply picked up the silver knife and drew a fresh line of blood across her wrist.

Blood dripped into the white bowl, each drop ringing out with a sharp, clear sound. Three measures, no more, no less, just enough to fill half the bowl. Her face, already pale, turned as white as paper, a thin sheen of sweat breaking out on her forehead.

Victor sat at the edge of the couch, watching the whole bloodletting process.

Without any expression, he watched as Elena cut open her wrist, watched the blood flow out in a thin red line, watched her hastily wrap the wound and then kneel to grind the medicine powder. Throughout it all, she didn't even flinch.

But out of nowhere, his chest suddenly throbbed with pain.

It felt like an invisible hand was squeezing his heart, making him gasp for air.

That sensation was way too familiar. Back at the burial ground, whenever the pain got so bad he thought he might pass out, there was always a hand resting gently on his chest, humming a song, "No pain, no pain."

That hand was rough, covered in calluses, and carried the faint smell of medicine.

No way was it Yvonne's soft, pampered hand.

"Your Highness?" Yvonne's voice pulled him back from his memories. "The medicine is ready. Will you feed it to me yourself?"