Betrayed by her Blood. Claimed by the Night.

LAVINIA QUISPE POV: The Gilded Shackle

The moment the guard’s fist hit the door, a sudden, sharp surge of cold dread spiked through me. It wasn't just nerves; it was the suffocating, familiar terror of being caged.

“It is time,” the deep voice of the guard bellowed.

My throat tightened. You can do this, Lavinia. Just the most important, inescapable day of your life. I needed better pep talks.

Mari, my maid and only friend, gave my shoulder a sympathetic squeeze—a gesture that felt far from comforting because it confirmed my misery was obvious to everyone.

“Every female Fledgling in the Covenant would kill to be Bound to not one, but three beautiful Princes,” she chided softly, adjusting the heavy white robes over my torso. “And you act like it’s a death sentence.”

I let out a harsh, low puff of air. “It is, Mari. A glamorous one.”

My mother, Rosa, had been tall and slender. I was shorter, with softer curves. The robes, meant to be ethereal, hung loose on my shoulders, yet the tight crimson sash cinched my waist and the thin fabric closely skimmed my pronounced hips. I wasn't built like a disciplined pureblood noble; I’d been confined to courtly etiquette lessons while other novices trained for combat. I was an ornament, a prize.

“It must be nice to have such a glamorous destiny,” Mari sighed wistfully, but I gave her a pointed look. She knew exactly how I felt about my so-called "glamorous" life—the luxurious, gilded cage my father had locked me into.

My purpose, carefully cultivated over years, was simple: to be an acceptable socialite, a suitable fixture for my future consorts to parade around. My father, Lord Quispe, was trading ownership.

“It’s not the Princes I have a problem with,” I said, the words coming out flat.

Honestly, Zilo, Klaus, and Zack were the only things making this less terrifying. They were the closest thing to brothers I’d had—a strange foundation for a Blood Union, especially now that they had become near-strangers. This night would bind the four of us forever, irrevocably. For me, it was trading one warden for three. But for them—strong, proud purebloods tethered only by their extraordinary bond—it was a different kind of shackle: the end of unbridled freedom.

Mari pulled me back to the present with an innocent, but loaded, question: “When was the last time you even saw them?”

“Zilo stopped by last week to deliver a status report to Father,” I said, tugging absently on the signet ring dangling from a chain around my neck—my only tangible keepsake of my dead mother.

Mari offered a fragile confidence. "Well, I'm sure things will be different once you receive the Blood Mark. A Sanguine Bond unites consorts."

A memory flashed: the strangely melancholic look in my mother’s eyes whenever I’d asked about her arranged Binding Day. My parents proved that a Sanguine Bond could just as easily be a prison as a true connection.

“Yeah,” I said, without sounding