THE CREST MOON BRIDE

LYRA "You know your daughter was the chosen one—you know she is the one the Vampire clan selected, so why are you trying to trade me in her place?" The words tore from my throat, raw and ragged, my eyes swollen nearly shut from crying. Mariam didn't flinch. She simply pressed the syringe deeper into the crook of my elbow, her thumb depressing the plunger with precision while two heavy-bodied men pinned me to the table like a specimen awaiting dissection. "I have worked too hard to build the life I have," she said, her voice carrying that measured calm that had always terrified me more than shouting ever could. "What makes you think I would let my daughter be taken away to that gruesome family and never see her again?" The needle slid free. She stepped back, dropping the syringe into the bin as it clatter, and the men's grips finally loosened. My arms fell limp against the cold wood. I didn't stop crying. Hot tears carved tracks down my cheeks, pooling in the hollow of my throat. "Why?" The word cracked in the middle. "Why do you have to do this to me?" That smile. That infuriating, serene smile remained fixed on her lips as though carved there. "Haven't you done enough?" She chuckled—a soft, almost pitying sound—and leaned closer until I could smell the jasmine oil she dabbed behind her ears every morning. "Oh, darling. I understand how you feel, truly I do. But you see, it isn't actually my fault." She winked. "I promise this is the last time." The last time. The phrase echoed in my skull, rattling around like a stone in an empty jar. The last time she would lay her hands on me? The last time she would maltreat me, treat me like a servant in my own mother's house? The last time she would dismiss me whenever I asked about Mother's disappearance? Well. She was right about one thing. This would be the last time I would ever have a voice—because I was going to be devoured by vampires, where they would drink my blood and feed on my flesh. The last time my voice would be heard, because I was now auctioned as a bride for the vampire heir. After the Great War between humans and vampires—after the vampires proved themselves superior in every conceivable way—the humans had no choice but to offer a treaty. The vampires gave only one condition: every three years, the humans must provide men and women with a rare blood type, individuals who would be auctioned off to the vampires as brides and grooms. Everyone who fell into that category had to kiss their families goodbye. And here I was. Worse I wasn't even chosen, I was Swapped. Standing in for my aunt's daughter as though I were a defective product being returned to a shelf. I stared at her from the cramped corner where I sat, watching that familiar hatred flicker behind her eyes—the same look she had given me every single day since she stepped into this house seven years ago. "You really don't have to do this, Aunt Mariam." My voice had shrunk to a whisper, worn thin from screaming. "You really don't." "Why?" She waved her hand dismissively, and the two men retreated, their shoulders squared with obedience. "I suppose you don't understand. You are the better option. Even if I don't do it now, one way or another, it would eventually be your turn. But it can never be my daughter's." She paused, examining her manicured nails. "You should be grateful. You're going to die anyway. At least this way, you get to choose your death." Choose my death? In what world was this a choice? She was choosing it for me. She had always chosen everything for me. "What have I ever done to you?" The question came out broken. "What has my mother ever done to you?" Her face shifted. I noticed it—the way her jaw tightened, the way her eyes hardened into flint. It always happened whenever I mentioned Mother. "My mother was your sister, but you never cared about her. I'm your niece, but you treat me like a slave!" She rushed forward, grabbing me by the collar, yanking me up until my feet barely grazed the floor. "Your mother is f*****g gone, and you know that. She's gone because she was tired—irritated, the same way I am irritated by your disgusting face. She hated you." She shook me violently, my teeth clicking together. "And I hate you too!" She shoved me backward. My skull cracked against the wall, and white light burst behind my eyes. I shook my head slowly, the motion sending pain lancing through my temple. "No. That's a lie. My mother doesn't hate me. She doesn't." Mariam was already on her feet, smoothing her blouse as though nothing had happened. "Quiet your tears. You should get ready and dress to meet your supposed husband. I don't want you looking like this." She gestured at my stained clothes with a curl of her lip. "It's not going to work." The words tumbled out desperately as she reached for the door. "They're going to find out what you did!" She halted. Turned slowly, her hand still wrapped around the brass knob. "How?" she asked, tilting her head. "How are they possibly supposed to know? Are you going to tell them? Who told you they would believe what you say? And what makes you think you could look into the faces of the clan members and speak back to them?" Her laughter followed me into the silence. "I think you should start practicing how to be the loyal, submissive slave you are supposed to be." The door slammed shut, and the lock clicked into place. --- Seven years. Seven years since my mother disappeared. Seven years since Mariam moved with her children into this house and slowly, turned it into a prison. She never hit me—not often, anyway. She reminded me that I was sick. That I was weak. That I was lucky she hadn't thrown me onto the streets like garbage. And now she was selling me off like property. My hands trembled as I pressed them against my face, feeling the heat of my tears seep between my fingers. I had heard stories about th Vampire clan. Everyone had. How gruesome they are, heartless and there hatred for human. A tear slipped down my cheek, and I wiped it away angrily. "Why does this keep happening to me?" I had spent too many years crying in this house. Too many nights curled up in bed, wondering if my mother was still alive, wondering if she had abandoned me or if something far worse had happened. I had spent too long being weak. But right now, sitting on the cold floor of my room, I didn't feel strong. I felt small. I felt like the same terrified girl who had watched her mother walk out the door and never come back. I pressed my forehead to the floor. The wood was cold against my skin, rough with age. The room was silent except for my own ragged breathing, each exhale a shudder. What do I do? What can I do? I had no money. No friends. Mariam had made sure of that. Every letter I tried to send was intercepted. Every person I tried to trust was turned away. She had built this cage brick by brick, and I had let her. No. The thought surfaced like a bubble rising through dark water. No. I can't let this happen. I still had some days before the auction. Fays before I would be paraded in front of vampire royalty like livestock. And days to to find a way out of this hell. I had escaped nothing in seven years. But perhaps that was because I had never tried.