Chapter 2:The Chains of Fate

The courtroom's silence was deafening. Blood still stained the marble floors where Aliana should have died, and yet—she stood. Alive. Bound by a force none of them had expected.

Her father, Duke Everan, stared at her as though she were a ghost. His knuckles were white where they gripped his cane, his breath unsteady. Beside him, Lady Sybilla, his wife, had frozen, her carefully composed expression cracking at the edges. Dahlia and Celeste, Aliana's half-sisters, exchanged uncertain glances.

The room was thick with unspoken words, but the weight of the moment kept everyone frozen.

Then, the voice of King Regnar shattered the silence.

"The ritual is complete." His crimson eyes flickered between Aliana and Kaelith, his bastard son. "The girl belongs to the Prince now."

Lady Sybilla inhaled sharply, regaining her composure. She bowed low before the vampire king, her voice smooth but strained. "Your Majesty… surely, there must be a misunderstanding. My husband's daughter—"

"She is no longer yours." Kaelith's voice was quiet but unyielding, cutting through the room like a blade. He stood beside Aliana, unreadable, yet there was an unmistakable claim in the way his presence loomed beside her.

Duke Everan finally spoke, his voice hoarse. "You are taking her?"

The King did not even glance at him. "She bears the mark. Do you intend to challenge an ancient bloodbinding, Duke?"

Everan's mouth pressed into a thin line. Of course, he would not. Even if he wanted to.

Aliana felt the weight of a thousand eyes upon her, but she barely heard their voices. The room blurred around her—Kaelith, the king, the nobles—none of it felt real. The iron taste of her own blood lingered on her tongue, her heartbeat drumming in her ears.

Then, Kaelith turned to her. "Come."

And just like that, she was leaving the only home she had ever known.

---

The Duke's Manor – Behind Closed Doors

The journey from the palace to the Duke's manor was silent, filled with unspoken tension. Aliana sat rigidly in the carriage, across from her father and Lady Sybilla. Neither of them spoke to her, and she did not dare to break the silence.

Once they arrived, the servants whispered as they stepped inside, their eyes darting toward her in disbelief. Word of her miraculous survival had already spread.

Inside the grand hall, as soon as the doors closed, her father turned on her.

"What in the gods' name have you done?" His voice was not loud, but it was heavy. His hands trembled slightly as he removed his gloves, his measured demeanor slipping.

Aliana swallowed, meeting his gaze. "I… I didn't—"

SLAM.

Lady Sybilla's hand struck the table beside her, making Aliana flinch. "You were sentenced to die." Her voice was sharp, but not hysterical. No, her control was too precise for that. "And yet, you live. Not just live—you have bound yourself to the bastard prince of all people."

"Enough," Everan muttered, rubbing his temple. "We must tread carefully."

Sybilla's lips pressed together, but she said nothing.

Aliana felt the suffocating weight of their scrutiny. "I didn't plan this," she whispered. "I should be dead. I—"

"You should be dead," Sybilla agreed, her eyes cold. "And yet, here you stand. And now, your existence has tied this family to the cursed prince."

A tense silence stretched between them.

Then, Dahlia, her eldest half-sister, spoke up, hesitant. "Mother, surely, this could be… a good thing?"

Sybilla's eyes flicked to her daughter, calculating. "Is that what you think?"

Dahlia hesitated. "She is bound to a prince. A powerful one."

"An outcast prince," Celeste muttered under her breath.

Duke Everan exhaled sharply. "Regardless, we must be careful. The court will see this as a shift in power. We do not yet know where Kaelith's loyalties lie."

Sybilla's eyes darkened. "And we do not know what this girl has become."

Aliana stiffened.

She may not have been insulted outright, but she heard the undertones—the fear, the doubt. The quiet belief that something unnatural had happened to her.

She clenched her fists beneath the folds of her gown. No matter what she said, they would never believe her.

She was no longer one of them.

And she never had been.

---

Later That Night – A Whispered Conspiracy

As the candles burned low in the Duke's private chambers, the whispers began.

Sybilla sat in a high-backed chair, her fingers wrapped around a goblet of wine. Across from her, Everan stood, staring into the flickering light.

"We cannot oppose this," he said at last. "Not openly."

Sybilla swirled her wine, thoughtful. "You fear the vampire court?"

"I fear Kaelith," Everan admitted, his voice grim. "He is no ordinary prince."

Sybilla's lips curled. "No. He is his mother's son."

The words hung between them.

A child of a witch. A monster, some whispered.

"I do not trust him," Everan said.

Sybilla took a slow sip of her wine, watching her husband carefully. "Then what do we do?"

Everan hesitated. Then, in a voice barely above a whisper, he said, "We watch. We wait. And if necessary…" He set his goblet down. "We remove the problem."

A slow smile touched Sybilla's lips.

"Yes," she murmured. "We must be ready."

Outside the chamber, beyond the thick wooden doors, Celeste stood in the shadows.

She had not meant to overhear. But she had.

And now, she did not know what to do.