Chapter 1

OCTAVIA

I pride myself on many things: my exceptional taste in mansions, my ability to keep secrets, and my genuine love for my brother. I do not, however, derive any satisfaction from my mistakes. Of which, I have just made the mother of all fuck-ups.

"I had no choice," I mutter over and over as I pace the halls of Castle St Clair. My eyes shift to the corridor ceiling. I need to be gone. After I compelled her, Red fell asleep. But even a floor below is too close, so I make my way to the first floor.

Then again, is it really safe for me to leave her, given who she really is? What she really is?

I shuffle forward and back, indecision tearing me apart. I slap the wall between two portraits once, twice, ball my fist and punch it through the plasterboard. It hurts. I like it. The sharp heat in my knuckles travels up my arm right to my brain, and all my fragmented thoughts coalesce into clarity.

I should let her wake alone to ensure there's no risk of me undoing the compulsion, because the temptation is there. The last thing I want is to endure Red having forgotten what I mean to her again. I make my way to the castle bar. It's closed. No one is in here, not even staff.

The room is sumptuous, with expensive chesterfield furniture and a black wood burner in the corner. The embers are molten and crumbling into ash. I dart around the back of the bar and pull a bottle of whisky off the optic.

Fuck using a glass. I'm going to drink the entire bottle. I can't believe I did it, especially after I swore to her I wouldn't compel her again.

But what fucking choice did I have? This is for her own safety. I skulk back into the corridor and make my way to the back door of my mother's castle.

I close it behind me and slide down the studded wood to slump in the doorway. I uncork the whisky and take an enormous gulp. It burns hot like the sun as it slides down my throat.

Good.

I deserve it.

"You look like shit…" Rumblegrit says in his raspy voice as he looks down at me. I grunt at him but remember the way Red treated Broodmire, the Whisper Club's goyle.

I sigh, push up onto my knees, and raise a finger in offer of a drop. His stone collar ruffles, and he opens his mouth, a smile he can't quite hide lifting the corner of his stony lips.

I push my finger onto his spike and allow not one, but four beads of blood to roll onto his tongue. He bristles, and I swear for a brief second the grey of his skin washes pink.

"Thank you," he says. "Most unusual."

"Perhaps I'm changing," I say.

"Do vampires change?"

"I thought not. But I've been wrong about a lot of things recently."

There's a scraping of stone against wood as he tilts his grey eyes down at me. He narrows his gaze. "You look like shit, and the whisky stinks like regret. What did you do?"

I sag back against the door and tickle him under his chin. "I broke a promise."

"And why would you do a thing like that?" he asks.

I smile up at him: a thin slip of a thing. But I stay silent because as much as he is ugly-cute, he's not my goyle, and I haven't forgotten what Mother did to that vampire responsible for the carriage attack. She was quick to temper. Quick to violence. That's not the mother I know, and I can't imagine my secrets would stay secret if I blabbed them to her goyle.

"Fine," he shrugs, as much as his half shoulders allow. "Keep your secrets. I have plenty of my own."

I frown. "Do you now?"

"You'd be surprised what the doors and walls hear, Ms Beaumont. We're always listening."

"Perhaps you already have my secret, then."

"Mmm, I can tell your heart is aching."

I huff at him. "You know nothing." But my hand wanders to rub my chest like it is aching.

"Blood can tell many a remarkable thing about a person. And I've tasted not one but four drops this eve."

In the distance, Sadie's snow-coloured hair drifts through the night breeze like eddies in a pond.

"Sadie," I say, surprising myself. We have a strange relationship, and I don't much want to be near her, but yet I'm drawn to call her over.

She halts as she levels with the gates into Mother's garden that heads out towards the entrance. She turns, looking this way and that. I must be obscured in the shadows under the porch, so I inch out and wave.

"Over here," I say and waft the whisky bottle I'm holding. Her face lights up. She waves hello and changes course, drifting over to me in her usual angelic way.

I take in her appearance as she draws close. She's wearing a long, flowing black dress, reminiscent of the style of outfits the blood monks in her church wear, albeit slinkier and more elegant. Her hair is wound into two braids either side of her head that join at the bottom of her skull to form one plait that drapes down her spine. She's tall like me, but her fair features and pale hair set her apart from all of us.

I don't bother standing up. Too miserable. Which is also why I called her over. Misery likes company, and I'm alone enough.

"I was having a drink here with Rumblegrit," I say.

She nods and leans down to kiss me on the forehead. Something she almost always does as a greeting. Only to me, though. I suppose that's the funny thing about siblings. We all have our unique ways of greeting each other or interacting with each other, and no two relationships are the same. Xavier and I are each other's favourites—to which that, Hello, favourite , is our usual greeting. Dahlia and Gabriel, though, are birth twins as well as vampire siblings. They speak in a language unique to them, all silent words and hard-to-decipher expressions. They can have entire conversations in silence. I used to be jealous until Dahlia turned out to be a bit of a cunt, at which point, I felt sorry for Gabriel instead.

I hold up the whisky bottle, but she leans over and tickles Rumblegrit under his chin. She dabs her finger on the spike, offering him a drop of blood. And I really do wonder whether I've been ignorant to the ways that everyone treats each other. It was a natural movement for Sadie to offer the goyle that kindness.

"I'm being treated this evening, it seems," he chuckles out a deep rumbling crackle of a laugh—the origin of his name. His eyes roll back, and he yawns as the overdose of mine and Sadie's blood knocks him out. His lids drift shut, and he falls into a light slumber, his stone nostrils fluttering and emanating snuffles and snores.

I smile up at him and check myself. Gods, Octavia, what is wrong with you? He's a fucking gargoyle. He is not cute. You do not need to develop a soft spot.

"Drink?" I offer Sadie again, if for no other reason than to drag my mind away from itself.

Sadie takes the bottle out of my hand, and to my surprise, downs an enormous gulp. She hands it back and raises her hands to sign at me.

"You look like shit tonight," she says.

"Thanks," I huff. "I'm hearing that a lot."

"No offence, I'm worried about you," she says and touches my chin. Her fingers are warm and caring. This is the Sadie our siblings never see, and I wonder why she chose me to connect with. But then, why did I choose Xavier? Sometimes when you come from a big family, you resonate with certain siblings more than others. It's these softer moments that are almost enough to make me forget Sadie's dark side.

I lean into her touch and pull the bottle up to my mouth. I do not trust her. Not when I'm aware of what she's capable of. I've seen her slaughter villages for fun. Not in my territory, I might add. She knows I'd come for her. It's a reminder I need, though. Much as this is a lovely moment, we are still in competition with each other, and I don't trust anyone, not when it comes to winning the city and replacing Mother. I have got to change the face of this city for the people like me who have always been pushed to the edge. I need my home to be a home instead of a prison.

"I come bearing news," she signs at me.

"Oh?" I say, swigging from the bottle again and handing it back to her.

My chest aches. Pathetic, really. I fucked up and now what? I'm feeling things? Gods, I can't even be a proper vampire. I should be dead inside, not pining over a fucking human.

A human you've loved for three years.

She swigs and hands it back, and I decide to down the rest, dregs and all, to numb the… the sensation in my chest I'd rather not put a name to. I drop the bottle between my legs and rub my sternum.

Sadie's eyes drop to my hand. She narrows her gaze.

"You okay?" she signs.

I wave her off. There's no way I'm going to explain that I am pining after a hunter. I'll never live it down. She continues to squint at me as if trying to work out the issue, but explains the news she brings.

"Mother is pissed."

"Why?"

"Someone's won the last challenge," she says, her hands moving in a flurry of gestures.

It takes all of my control not to go vampire still. If I did, she would know I was suppressing something, hiding the fact I have more information than I should.

Instead, I embrace the pain in my chest, which seems to build. What the hell is wrong with me that emotional pain would manifest like this? Maybe I need to see a doctor or a vampire specialist. Red broke me.

"I see. Well, who won?" I say, trying to push as much rage into my voice as possible. I need to be convincing. Honestly, it doesn't take much to put the ire simmering in my gut at not being able to claim the win into my voice.

"That's the thing," Sadie signs. "The winner is staying silent."

I do my best impression of a frown and play dumb. "What do you mean? No one knows? Of course they do. Surely Mother checked the amulet?"

Sadie nods. "There's blood inside it. Someone found the dhampir and sealed their blood inside. It's the most beautiful thing in the city. One of us won but is choosing to keep it quiet."

Her eyes form slits as she tries to read my expression. Thankfully for me, my chest hurts enough that it's a distraction.

"Was it you?" she says.

I laugh, a sharp nasty thing. "Sadie, please. You know exactly how much I want to take over from Mother. Do you really think if I'd won a round, I'd be keeping that quiet?"

Some of the tension eases in her shoulders, and it makes me wonder exactly how much she wants to win. Did I discount her as a competitor too soon?

"True," she says. "I guess that means either Dahlia, Xavier or Gabriel's partner must be the dhampir. They'll need to keep an eye on them. The more trials we do, the closer we're going to get to discovering who it is… and the more danger they'll be in."

That makes me uncomfortable. I hadn't considered the consequence of protecting Red would mean putting others in danger. But if my siblings want to aid in protecting their hunter, that's their problem. They're all partnered with highly trained hunters who can protect themselves. They've all survived attacks so far. It will be fine. They will be fine.

Besides, I don't care. My priority is Red, always. If there's collateral damage along the way, too bad.

"That doesn't put Red out of danger, though," I say. "No one knows who the dhampir is, therefore attacks could come from anyone."

She shakes her head, her lips pressed thin. "The Festival of Blood is coming. With how high the political tensions are, it seems like a bad idea for the festival to happen."

"Slow down, too fast," I say.

She tuts at me and slows her signing down. I manage to catch everything the second time.

"Shit. When is it?"

"It's going to end up coinciding with the attempt on the boundary," she says.

I knead my temples. "Well, Mother will need to work with the Chief to put extra security on. Though it could work in our favour as a distraction."

Sadie nods. "That's true. I hadn't considered that. Well, I have business to attend to. If you find out which of them actually won, will you inform me?"

"Sure," I shrug, knowing exactly who won and the fact I'll never confess. She scans my face as if trying to find a lie.

I rub at my chest again, irritated at my weakness.

"What's up with that?" she gestures at my hand.

"Nothing. Just chest pains. Probably the stress of the competition and knowing I've lost another round."

"Is that so?" she signs, her eyebrow rising as she folds her arms.

"How is it you can still be sarcastic while totally silent?"

She laughs. It's a whispery sound, like clouds and summer daisies dancing in the wind.

"It doesn't appear to be stress to me," she says.

"What makes you say that?"

She shrugs and steps off the porch. "I have to get back to the church, but I'd monitor that if I were you. Almost looks like you bound yourself to someone, and they tried to leave you. But you wouldn't be stupid enough to do that, would you?" She steps away and outright winks at me as she turns around and saunters into the distance.

"No," I shout into the night as she disappears into the darkness. "I WOULDN'T, SADIE. THAT'S RIDICULOUS."

But she doesn't return. I watch her until she disappears, and then a nervous laugh bubbles up and spills out of me. I'm left cold, a reminder that Sadie has that effect on people. The occasional show of softness is not to be mistaken for anything other than the game she's currently playing. She's as ruthless as the rest of us, otherwise Mother wouldn't have adopted her. The night air wraps a chill around me as the knowledge that I did, in fact, bind myself to someone weighs heavy on me.

But Red wouldn't leave, right? We have a competition to compete in, and I'm not sure if she'll even remember we're bound at this point. Not after what I did.

Besides, she was asleep on the roof when I left her.

"I'd go and check if I were you," Rumblegrit says, scaring the life out of me.

"I thought you were asleep," I snap. "You better keep whatever you think you know to yourself or no more blood for you."

But I don't wait for his answer. I'm already up, shoving the door open and sprinting for the roof, my chest aching worse than ever.

She wouldn't leave. Even if I took her memories.

She can't.

But the sinking feeling in my gut and the pulling in my chest say something different.

I burst out onto the rooftop and slide to a halt.

Red's gone.