The Obliteration Countdown

Chapter 2 Bleeding Out the Lineage

I left drops of blood all the way back to my quarters. By the time I reached the velvet armchair, the room had started to blur and my legs would no longer hold me.

My palm throbbed with every heartbeat. I kept it pressed to my chest, but blood still ran between my fingers and down the front of my dress.

The countdown read *6 days, 23 hours, and 45 minutes.*

I tore a strip from my sleeve for a bandage. Before I could wrap my palm, the door opened without a knock.

My brother stood in the doorway. Dorian, Duke of Vance and Chief Physician of the Imperial Court, wore spotless white robes.

He kept his eyes on the silver tray in his hands. A crystal vial and a blood-drawing needle rested on it. Blood from my palm had already soaked through my skirt and reached the rug, yet he stepped over the stain.

“Seraphina was terribly frightened by your display. Her heart is weak. She requires a calming draught, and the key ingredient, as you know, is a drop of your heart’s blood.”

I laughed once. Even now, he had come to take more blood from me.

Dorian looked at my hand at last. His attention moved from the depth of the cut to my face, and his brow tightened. He knew the signs of shock. His fingers reached the medical pouch at his belt and touched the roll of hemostatic bandages inside.

Dorian left the bandages where they were. He set the tray on my desk and held out the needle.

“Stop this pathetic act, Elara. You will not shirk your duty. Offer your arm.”

For years, he had treated my heart's blood as Seraphina's private medicine.

I pushed myself out of the chair and took the heavy paper knife from the desk. Its edge was made to slice parchment.

“What are you doing now?” he asked, his patience wearing thin. “More theatrics?”

“No, brother. I'm resigning.”

I stood over the ancient Vance family crest set into the marble floor and cut my uninjured wrist.

The blood of our ancestors ran into the center of the crest.

Dorian knocked the tray sideways. He knew the ritual.

Gold light filled the carved lines. A crack split the emblem from top to bottom, and the light went out. The centuries-old bond released me. I was no longer a Vance.

“You're mad!” The tray hit the floor as he lunged. “What have you done? The family's magic!”

Dorian seized my arm and began a healing spell. His eyes stayed on the dead crest. If I bled out, he would lose his supply of heart's blood.

I tore free of him and stumbled toward the door. The floor rolled under my feet.

Two down.

Two men were waiting in the hall. Sylas, my magic mentor, stood with his hands folded into his sleeves. Beside him, my sworn knight Kaelen rested one hand on his sword.