1. Scarlett

CHAPTER 1

SCARLETT

I stare at the cordial invitation in my grip. Correspondence isn't unusual. I get letters every day.

But this one is written in blood.

My fingers are so tense I'm surprised I don't rip the damn thing. The lighting offered by our new magical fixtures is pleasantly bright, much better than the tallow candles I had to use up until two years ago, allowing me to make out every word clearly. I read the first line three times because I just can't believe it.

Please accept this formal invitation into the household of the Rinhold estate.

It's a courtship proposal by the Earl Rinhold, a man I have never been formally introduced to, but know of by reputation.

And it's not a good one.

I can't believe my father didn't tear this up the moment it came in.

But there's a reason I was kept waiting in the drawing room while my brother and father spoke privately for hours.

So I keep reading.

The letters are styled in perfect penmanship, and every phrase is crafted with fluid, lyrical prose.

But I've learned to read between the lines. This is an invitation that will end my life as I know it.

My eyes track down the pleasantries and the subtle threats of blackmail I'd expect of a family with eyes everywhere, to the important bit I make sure to dedicate to memory.

I, Earl of the Rinhold family, hereby offer my courtship terms for the hand of Scarlett Nightingale and the consequential alliance of the Rinhold and Nightingale families, henceforth and thereafter.

A bride price will be paid in full upon conclusion of an exclusive courtship at the Rinhold residence to take place in the span of thirty days, in willing agreement by both parties, in the sum of the following proposals:

Forty percent of Rinhold's resource village.

Eight-and-ten percent of Rinhold's treasury.

Three selections from the Rinhold Compound, no limits barred.

Should these terms be deemed acceptable, a signature in blood of the lovely Scarlett Nightingale is required. Henceforth, the blood timer of three days will be enacted for the intended to bring her affairs in order, to begin anew at thirty days for the duration of the courtship.

Which, as a member of the family with the top selections of last year's Monsters Night within the Magic Sector, I promise will be a lavish and enjoyable affair. I am eagerly awaiting your reply.

The terms of this contract expire at midnight.

May Cain's blessings be bestowed upon you and yours.

Sincerely,

Earl Rinhold

My lower lip is quivering, and I sink my teeth into it before my father can reprimand me.

There was a reason he took me to the largest drawing room typically reserved for hosting and made me squirm while he and my brother decided my fate.

He wanted to remind me of what he's been working toward and the importance of this proposal.

All of our reserves had gone into this room, decorating it with three diamond chandeliers cast in gold, an appropriate arrangement of exquisitely lavish furniture, and two stories of portraits of my father's predecessors, as well as an obnoxiously large one of the monster in charge of our city.

As if Cain would actually ever pay us a visit.

But, just in case, my father had the painting commissioned after selling my mother's last jewels to pay for it.

I find myself staring up at the monstrosity, mostly because I hadn't seen it since it was installed, along with the broken mirror shards that make up its border. With all of the perfection of the room, the fractured shards add a refreshing touch.

Within them, a perfect male oversees the drawing room, and his depiction is not the creature one might expect of the Godlike ruler of the Elite City. It seems rude to paint him in his human form, but no one has ever seen his monster one.

Maybe it only exists in dreams.

That thought should give me the chills, but I find it an intriguing distraction from my current state of panic.

His human form is striking, of course. Most monsters are beautiful when they want to be. He has piercing blue eyes that are so light I toy with the idea that they might be mirrors, too. His hair is composed of sleek, midnight locks and he has a sinfully beautiful face made of dreams.

There are different monster classifications, but Cain is the ruler of our city for a reason. There aren't others like him that I have ever heard of. Most worship him, and those who have disappointed him, well, they don't live very long to talk about it.

But long enough for the entire city to give his monster side a name.

Cain is a Dream Eater.

Dream Eater, huh? Maybe he can eat me before Earl Rinhold does.

The absurd thought comes out of nowhere, and a nervous laugh bubbles in the back of my throat.

Because, for some reason, the idea of Cain eating me inspires very different images than the Earl.

"Scarlett," my father says, jolting me from my thoughts.

My father looks nothing like Cain's portrait. He's attractive for a man of his age, but he's growing older. Shadows sink under his eyes, and a new wrinkle has appeared across his forehead. His dark hair is usually styled, but tonight a curl just above his brow has become undone, probably because he's been sweeping his fingers through it. His prized pocket watch makes a circular outline in his vest, leaving a recently cleaned chain to loop down to a golden button on his tailored ensemble.

"Finished?" he asks, likely referring to the letter, not my gawking at Cain's portrait.

His tone isn't unkind, but it holds a warning, probably because I've been gripping the letter too hard and it looks like it's about to tear.

I catch my older brother staring at me from his lounged position behind my father. He looks irritated as he flips a coin over his fingers, but he's not saying anything.

However, I can read the truth under his mask all the same.

Her pretty little red head probably has no idea what that letter said. It doesn't matter. The only requirement was that she read it. Hopefully she signs it and we can get on with this nonsense.

I realize that it's entirely possible my father wouldn't have allowed me to read the letter had it not been a binding blood contract.

Which meant there was magic involved, requiring me to read it for the agreement to be legal.

Where there's magic… there are monsters.

My gaze briefly flicks to Cain's portrait, making me frown.

Did his eyes just blink?

Shaking my head, I give my father a small nod. He reaches over and tugs at the top until I will my fingers to release the parchment. It slides through my grip, leaving a sting when he plucks it from my grasp a little too quickly.

I curl my fingers into fists before any of my blood can get on the blasted letter.

I am not signing that.

I don't care what they're offering.

My father might have sold everything in our estate that wasn't nailed down to bring us this far, but he can't sell me .

Staring at him, I hope to see some sense. Instead, I see the desperate truth in my father's dark eyes, which have grown harder over the years. No matter how much I wish he wouldn't do this, I know he will. I've always been able to read others, and my father is no exception.

I don't want to do this, his eyes seem to say. But you'll thank me when we make it to the Immorality Sector.

When I save your mother from this illness, every dark deed will be repaid in all the good I can do.

What good will there be if my father loses his soul to this damn plight?

Will my mother even want to survive when she finds out I've been left behind with a family like the Rinholds ?

The villages fear the monsters, and the Elites do, too.

But I fear men most of all.

Especially a man like Earl Rinhold.

I can't quite hear my father's thoughts, but his intentions are as clear to me as if I had.

The truth is outlined in every part of him.

The recently cleaned pocket watch.

The new golden cuff links to match.

He's not my father right now.

He's Duke Nightingale, who has just been given an offer he can't refuse. And with my wicked brother in his ear, he's beyond the point of reasoning with.

He must see the determination lining my face, because he plucks out his pocket watch and clicks his tongue.

"We have five-and-ten minutes until midnight, Scarlett. Whatever arguments you have, be quick about it."

My brother rises to his feet with a sigh and pockets his coin, one of the few valuables we have left that he refuses to part with. Usually, he stays in father's shadow, but tonight Duke Nightingale seems to be wearing his mask.

And that means Earl Nightingale gets to teach me my place.

I'm not a Duchess. Both my father and my brother would have to die for me to take over on my own. Since they are both very alive and capable, I'm simply the daughter of an Elite, Lady Nightingale. That gives me certain privileges. But when it comes to the matter of alliances, dowries are taken very seriously.

And in my case, this is a reverse dowry.

A bride price.

And a substantial one at that. Even if I don't fully comprehend all the terms, I can see the look on my father's face that it could change everything.

My lip starts quivering again, and I take a deep breath—at least, I try to. The corset I've been tied up in for tonight's events has me wishing I had been born with fewer ribs.

My brother doesn't have any problems breathing, mostly because he's wearing his traditional Earl apparel that includes a frilly undershirt tucked beneath a fitted—but not tight —embroidered vest. He dresses the part, topping off his look with long, polished boots with golden buttons that match my father's vest.

He kneels down on one knee, putting himself at eye level with me in my seated position. Every presentation of his posture and his expression demonstrates care and empathy, but I've always been able to see through the mask.

He's about to infuriate me.

"Aren't you excited, dear sister?" he asks with a charming smile that shows his stupid dimples.

Gently, I remove my teeth from my throbbing lip, ignoring the tang of blood that's on my tongue. "M-mother wouldn't approve of a Rinhold alliance, not when—" I begin, but the crack across my face shocks me into silence.

I stare at the floor for a moment, stunned, trying to process what just happened.

Did Laurence just strike me?

My brother has never laid a hand on me. My father wouldn't have allowed it, but when I glance up at him, I still see Duke Nightingale looking back at me.

He doesn't come to my rescue.

He doesn't correct my brother's crass behavior.

Instead, he smooths the contract out onto the table. Then he pulls a short, delicate knife from his pocket and holds it out to me.

"I'm sorry, Scarlett," my father says, still gripping the tiny blade. "We have all had to sacrifice for this family. Your mother and I have tried to spare you, but we're out of options. It's time for you to pull your weight."

I don't know where I find the will, but I shakily rise to my feet and tilt up my chin, ignoring my brother, who is now towering over me.

Let him strike me again. Maybe I'll faint, either due to another slap to the face or from this blasted corset choking the life out of me.

They won't get their damn signature then.

My cheek stings as I clench my jaw, carefully weighing my words. My skin is pale, so I know the mark must be swelling on my face. Anywhere I go, I'm required to bring a parasol to protect my skin from the sun.

"Wouldn't want you mistaken for a villager, now would we?" my mother would always say. The sun had a tendency to bring out my freckles hidden underneath my skin.

My father can't be reasoned with, but he still needs me to willingly sign the document to get his way.

They can't force me.

Right?

He again glances at his pocket watch still in his grip, and I see the minute hand inch closer to midnight.

The lights flicker for a moment, making us all go silent. We've been in the Magic Sector for two years, but we've never had the lights go out.

When they stabilize, I take a shaky breath. Maybe I'm imagining things.

"Does Mother know about this?" I ask, mildly impressed that my voice doesn't hold the tremor I'm hiding underneath the boning of my corset.

"She went into a coma three days ago," my brother curtly informs me, earning my attention immediately. I jerk my chin up at him as my eyes go round with surprise.

"Why did no one tell me?" I demand.

But it explains why I haven't been allowed to see her. My father couldn't afford any hysterics during the past three days, not when he was hosting various families in an attempt to build alliances.

One of those visitors had been Duke Rinhold, and now I know it was no coincidence that I had been in his view. I'd been placed like a shiny new doll in a window, my position just outside of the drawing room in one of the smaller reading nooks.

With a new corset and dress that we couldn't afford, no less.

Hosting in the Magic Sector requires that all family members don a certain type of attire. For a Lady, such as myself, that attire includes a suffocating corset that makes my boobs practically pop out. I hate that particular article of clothing, but the quiet time with a book almost makes up for it.

Almost.

"You've been trying to get a courtship proposal," I realize with a scathing accusation, now pointing my wrath toward my father.

His jaw flexes, betraying the truth once again.

Yes, Scarlett.

You're more valuable than you could possibly know—but now… Now we have no choice.

"Ten minutes," my father announces after checking his watch again. "I know this is a burden to place on your delicate shoulders, dear daughter. But your mother has taken an unfortunate turn. She won't last much longer past this Monsters Night."

The annual Monsters Night is mere days away.

A hiccup sticks in the back of my throat, and I shove it down.

"Do you know what that means?" my brother asks. His words are slimy and sickly sweet, as if he's coating them with poison just for me. "If we don't reach the Immortality Sector this year, it'll be too late. Don't be a whiny bitch, Scarlett. You'll become a Duchess of a family much more powerful than ours. You have nothing to complain about."

I flick my gaze to my father to see if he'll correct my brother's crude words, but he doesn't.

Because I know he feels that he can't. He loves his wife even more than he loves me.

And we both know I was adopted for a reason. She wanted a daughter, but her illness made her barren after my brother, so my father took me in when I was just a little girl.

I was a present for her, and even if he grew to love me, his wife has always come first.

We don't speak of my origins, but my bright red hair is a reminder for those who know the truth.

I'm not from here. No amount of voice training lessons or etiquette classes can change where I was born.

I'm from the other side .

I was always meant to be a sacrifice.

"She won't forgive you," I tell my father. My words are barely a whisper, but I can't hide the hurt that drips from them with my unshed tears.

Even if this works. Even if this saves her life and my family achieves immortality, my mother will never forgive him for this.

Or maybe he thinks that eventually she will. Eternity is a long time to try to earn back her trust.

The darkness in his eyes flickers, those chocolate browns in his gaze briefly coming out as my adoptive father peeks through.

The one who loves me. The one who loves his family and wants nothing more than to dote on us and give us everything.

But he believes he's been cornered. He believes there's no choice.

There's always a choice.

"At least she'll be alive to hate me," he says as his dark mask slips back over his face.

I know it's going to stay there this time.

For now, my father is gone.

And Duke Nightingale is all that remains.

I find myself looking at Cain's portrait. I've never prayed to him, but the absurd desire to overcomes me and I find myself whispering the words so quietly that it feels as if only my lips move.

"Watch over me, Cain."

I pause as a strange chill runs up my spine after uttering those words. I stare at the portrait, and it seems to expectantly stare back, so I continue.

"If I do this, I'm going to do it for my mother. I don't want her to die. But please, please make it worth it. Watch over me and protect me."

The air seems to ripple around the portrait, and shadows unfurl behind the mirrors, making my eyes go wide.

When I blink, the strange textures are gone.

I try to breathe again but struggle. I decide my corset is just too tight, and I'm starting to see black spots, so I continue my prayer before I pass out.

"I'm going to need all the help I can get… if I'm going to be Earl Rinhold's bride."

When I glance back at my brother and father, I feel like I'm outnumbered. A rumble passes through the room, making me peek at the walls to search for a storm that must be building overhead.

But there aren't any windows here, only portraits to make anyone under the Duke's gaze feel small and trapped and watched .

It doesn't much matter if there's a storm or not. I won't be going outside anytime soon to find out. My father looks like he's about to stab me with the dagger himself, but he can't.

I have to do this willingly.

"Is there no other way?" I ask, my chest deflating. Prayers to a monster are only going to get me so far.

My father's shoulders sink, and I realize there's more he's been hiding under his mask. "It's not just about your mother, Scarlett. I've spent all our money on medicine. Every coin. If we fail to reach the Immortality Sector this year to wipe our slate clean, it's possible we will all be killed during the culling."

The blood drains from my face.

Every family is expected to pay a tribute to the collective pot once a year.

The culling makes a example of any of the families who fail in that endeavor.

Moving to the Magic Sector opened up opportunities, but I knew it increased expectations on our family, too.

There is a cost to run a city like this, one full of monsters and men.

I've come to learn that the men are the ones who devour everything.

"We don't have enough points for Monsters Night?" I finally ask.

My father's mask stays in place, but his eyes darken with grief he's desperately trying to hide. "There are some promising tributes from the village this year, but… they might not be enough for the quota expected of a family in the Magic Sector. No."

My brother scoffs. "You mean we ran out of bribes to keep our quota threshold down because you spent them all on medicine ." His jaw flexes as if he's debating the words coming out of his mouth next, but he says them anyway. "I've told you before, I could steal it from?—"

"Careful," my father interrupts, giving my brother a stern look. "Stealing is a grave offense."

"Even from rival families?" my brother grumbles.

"Even from rival families," my father confirms. "We don't steal. Period. It's against the rules."

We don't question the rules.

And we certainly don't break them.

Breaking the rules comes with a price.

That price is death.

Now I understand the true level of my father's desperation. If we don't even have enough points to survive another Monsters Night, everything we've sacrificed won't matter. We'll be dead.

What have you done, Father?

With the new danger revealed, my brother's cordial kindness slips, and his cruel expression frightens me. His features seem sharper than usual, as if he might simply cut me with his brown-eyed gaze alone.

His eyes are even darker than my father's tonight.

He leans down and curls a lock of hair behind my ear, then presses his lips up against my cheek as he whispers a threat that has my heart going still.

"If you don't do this, Scarlett, I'm going to make your life a living hell. The monsters might let us live another cycle, and if they do, I will wait for Mother to die, watch our father dwindle into a corpse, and then take my rightful place as Duke. After that, I'm going to sell you off to the highest bidder regardless. I might even let Earl Rinhold have a taste before I do. So be a good girl and sign the fucking contract ."

We all jump as a hiss comes from the painting.

I stare at it with wide eyes, now sure that the mirrored eyes are looking at me.

I don't know what compels me to grab the dagger from my father. I'm running on adrenaline as I stab it into my finger, then I sign my name on the contract and shudder when the icy spell drapes over me like a shroud.

It's done.

I was always meant to be a sacrifice.

Blood drips from my finger and collects on the floor, the sound the only one in the room.

We all stare at the contract as it sizzles into finality. My arm stings, and I don't have to look down at it to know three slashes are appearing on my skin.

One for each day I have left in the Nightingale residence.

Three days to say goodbye to my life.

Before the true nightmare begins.