The Dreamweaver’s Deadly Reckoning

My blood-bonded mate lied to me.

He said our bond—a bond of centuries—was fading.

It was all for his new lover, Josie.

He wanted to let her play princess. He denied me my rightful place.

I was walking down a hall lined with ancient tapestries when I heard Josie’s voice, sweet and laced with venom.

“Darling, if you make me your princess, just for a little while, can you taste me every night? But… won’t that old relic Lydia get suspicious? Your bond has lasted three centuries, after all.”

“What can she do? She can’t leave this castle, and she needs my blood to survive.”

Milton’s voice dripped with contempt. “That fool, Lydia. I told her the bond was fading, and she actually believed our connection was broken. Even if she knew the truth, she’d just hand over the Eternal Chalice without a fight and go back to being a quiet little Dreamweaver. You’re the only princess in my heart, my little wildcat.”

I froze. And I let him believe his lie was safe.

Then, a pain sharp enough to kill a mortal ripped through my soul. The bond shattered.

I turned and melted into the shadows.

Let them think their little play is flawless.

They’ll soon find out what this “fool” is truly capable of.

My blood-bonded mate used a battle with hunters as his excuse. He lied, claiming our bond was fading, all so he could be with his lover, Josie.

He mocked me, saying I couldn’t live without him. That even if I knew the truth, I’d meekly give up my title as Princess and fade into the background of the clan.

But they didn’t know I’d already prepared a grand finale for them. I was just waiting for them to take the stage.

“There’s a problem with the blood-bond between Lydia and me.” Milton’s announcement echoed through the council chamber, under the watchful eyes of stone gargoyles. He had summoned the entire inner circle.

Regent Marcus frowned. “Prince, what do you mean?”

“I’ve lost my connection to Lydia,” Milton said, his voice cold and deliberate. “Instead, I feel a true soul-bond with Josie.”

I kept my face a mask of ice, as if listening to a story about someone else.

Josie’s hand slid up Milton’s arm, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “We didn’t want this to happen, but a soul-bond is destiny. We can’t fight it.”

“So,” Milton took a deep breath, “starting tonight, Josie will be the new Princess of the Crimson Thorn Clan. Lydia, please give the Eternal Chalice to her.”

The hall fell into a dead silence, broken only by the flicker of candlelight.

I rose slowly and walked toward the Eternal Chalice, which rested in a ceremonial niche. The obsidian cup gleamed in the dim light, its surface carved with our clan’s ancient sigil: a bloody thorn.

“Lydia…” Elder Amelia began, but I raised a hand to stop her.

I took the Chalice from its stand, walked to the long table,