The Vampire Prince's Doomed Bride

PART ONE “Isla, slow down.” “I am walking normally.” “No, you are not.” Isla Hart glanced over her shoulder and smiled. Her grandmother stood in the doorway of the little herb room, one hand resting against the wooden frame. Her silver hair was tied neatly behind her head, and the deep lines around her eyes made her look stern even when she was amused. “I am not walking fast,” Isla said. “You are simply getting old.” Her grandmother's eyes narrowed. “Excuse me?” “You heard me.” “I heard a very disrespectful girl.” “I prefer confident.” “You prefer trouble.” Isla laughed and placed the basket in her hands on the table. “There. I have delivered everything.” Her grandmother looked inside the basket. “Rosemary?” “Yes.” “Lavender?” “Yes.” “Dried mint?” “Yes.” “And the fever leaves?” Isla lifted a small bundle. “Right here.” Her grandmother nodded. “You remembered everything.” “I always do.” “Except yesterday.” Isla frowned. “What happened yesterday?” “You forgot the fever leaves.” “That was one time.” “It was two.” “Fine. Two times.” Her grandmother smiled. “You are improving.” “That sounded almost like praise.” “It was not.” “You should try it more often.” Her grandmother shook her head. “You talk too much.” “And you worry too much.” The smile disappeared from her grandmother's face. “I worry because I have reason to.” Isla's playful expression faded. “What does that mean?” “Nothing.” “You always say nothing.” “Because sometimes there is nothing to say.” “There is clearly something to say.” Her grandmother turned toward the shelves and began arranging the herbs. Isla watched her. The older woman had always been like this whenever certain subjects came up. She would become quiet, change the conversation, or find something that suddenly needed her attention. Especially when the conversation involved Isla's family. Isla leaned against the table. “Grandmother.” “Yes?” “My birthday is tomorrow.” “I know.” “You remembered.” “I remember every birthday.” “I was beginning to think you forgot.” Her grandmother turned and looked at her. “How could I forget the day you came into this world?” Something in her voice made Isla smile. “Then I want something special.” “What?” “A proper birthday meal.” “You already eat every day.” “That is not the point.” Her grandmother laughed softly. “What else?” “Cake.” “Cake?” “Yes.” “You know we don't have enough flour for a large cake.” “Then make a small one.” “You'll complain that it's too small.” “I won't.” “You will.” “I promise.” Her grandmother raised an eyebrow. “You promised that last year.” “And I kept it.” “You complained for three days.” “That is different.” “How?” “Because the cake was actually too small.” Her grandmother laughed. Isla smiled. For a moment, everything felt normal. This was the life she knew. The little house. The herbs hanging from the ceiling. The smell of medicine. Her grandmother's constant complaints. The village of Ravenshade outside their window. She had never known another life. Her grandmother had raised her from childhood, taught her how to treat wounds, prepare medicine, and recognize plants by their leaves. Isla knew the village better than she knew herself. She knew which baker opened first. Which old woman always complained about her knees. Which children stole apples from the market. She knew every road leading out of Ravenshade. Except the road into the forest. That road was forbidden. Her grandmother had always made that clear. “Isla.” “Yes?” Her grandmother was staring at her wrist. Isla followed her gaze. The crescent-shaped birthmark sat just beneath her palm. She had had it since birth. “What?” “Cover your wrist.” “Why?” “Just do it.” Isla pulled her sleeve over it. “There.” Her grandmother still looked worried. “You don't like the mark.” “I didn't say that.” “You don't have to.” Her grandmother approached her. “Listen carefully.” Isla nodded. “Never let anyone see your blood.” Isla blinked. “What?” “Your blood.” “I know what blood is.” “Then you understand me.” “No, I don't.” Her grandmother's voice became firm. “Never let anyone see it.” “Why?” “Because I said so.” “That isn't an answer.” “It is the only answer I can give you.” Isla stared at her. “Grandmother, I'm a healer. People see blood all the time.” “Then be more careful.” “Why?” Her grandmother looked away. Isla stepped closer. “What are you afraid of?” “Nothing.” “You're lying.” “Isla.” “You only become this serious when something is wrong.” Her grandmother took her hand. Her fingers were cold. “Promise me.” “Promise what?” “Never let anyone see your blood.” Isla hesitated. “Fine.” “Say it.” “I promise.” Her grandmother squeezed her hand. “And tomorrow?” “What about tomorrow?” “Stay close to home.” Isla sighed. “Again?” “Yes.” “Why?” “Because I want you safe.” “Safe from what?” Her grandmother didn't answer. “Grandmother.” “Please.” The word stopped Isla. Her grandmother rarely begged. Isla nodded slowly. “Okay.” “Promise me.” “I promise.” Her grandmother released her hand. Isla looked at her carefully. “You're scared.” “I am worried.” “About me?” “Yes.” “Why?” Her grandmother looked toward the window. “I don't know.” “You do.” The older woman remained silent. Isla sighed. “You know, one day I'm going to get an answer from you.” Her grandmother smiled sadly. “One day.” “When?” “When you're ready.” “That is not fair.” “Life isn't always fair.” Isla folded her arms. “I still want my cake.” Her grandmother laughed. “You'll get your cake.” “And I want it sweet.” “Now you're becoming demanding.” “I'm turning twenty-one.” “That doesn't make you queen.” “Not yet.” Her grandmother laughed again. Isla smiled. But when she looked toward the window, her smile slowly faded. The forest stood beyond the village. Dark. Quiet. Still. And for some reason, Isla felt as though something was watching from between the trees. She frowned. “Grandmother?” “Yes?” “Is someone outside?” Her grandmother immediately turned toward the window. “No.” “Are you sure?” “Yes.” “I thought I saw something.” “Stay away from the window.” Isla looked at her. “Why?” “Just stay away.” The warmth in the room suddenly seemed to disappear. Isla slowly stepped back. “Okay.” Her grandmother closed the curtain. And neither of them spoke about what Isla thought she had seen. But from that moment on, Isla could not stop wondering what was hiding beyond the forest. CHAPTER ONE, THE GIRL WITH THE FORBIDDEN BLOOD PART TWO “Grandmother?” “What?” “Are you awake?” “Yes.” “Why?” Her grandmother turned in bed. “Because you keep talking.” Isla smiled in the darkness. “I can't sleep.” “Why?” “My birthday is tomorrow.” “You have mentioned that many times.” “I know.” “Then sleep.” “I can't.” “You are twenty-one, Isla.” “I know.” “You are not five.” “I know that too.” Her grandmother sighed. “What do you want?” “I want to ask you something.” “That usually means trouble.” “Do you remember my mother?” Her grandmother became quiet. “Yes.” “What was she like?” “Why are you asking?” “Because I want to know.” “You have asked me before.” “And you never answer properly.” Her grandmother turned toward her. “Your mother was kind.” “Anything else?” “She was stubborn.” Isla smiled. “Like me?” “Exactly like you.” “I think I would have liked her.” “You would have argued with her.” “I argue with you.” “I know.” They both laughed softly. Then Isla became serious. “Do you miss her?” Her grandmother looked away. “Every day.” “I wish I remembered her.” “I know.” “Why don't I?” “You were very young.” “But you remember everything.” “Yes.” “Then tell me.” Her grandmother hesitated. “There are some memories that hurt too much.” Isla's voice softened. “You don't have to be afraid of telling me.” “I am not afraid.” “Then what?” “I am trying to protect you.” “From what?” Her grandmother didn't answer. Isla sat up. “Grandmother.” “Go back to sleep.” “You always do this.” “Do what?” “Change the subject whenever I ask about my family.” Her grandmother sighed. “You are not going to let this go, are you?” “No.” “Stubborn girl.” “You said my mother was stubborn.” “And now I regret telling you.” Isla smiled. Her grandmother reached out and touched her cheek. “You have her eyes.” “Really?” “Yes.” “Are they pretty?” “Very.” Isla smiled. “Then I got something good from her.” “You got more than that.” “What?” Her grandmother pulled her closer. “Nothing.” “There you go again.” Her grandmother laughed quietly. Isla rested her head against her shoulder. “Grandmother?” “Yes?” “Do you think my life will change when I turn twenty-one?” Her grandmother froze. Isla noticed immediately. “You do.” “I don't know.” “You do.” Her grandmother looked down at her. “Why do you ask?” “I don't know. I just feel strange.” “Strange how?” “Like something is about to happen.” Her grandmother's face became tense. “Don't say that.” “Why?” “Because sometimes words become fears.” “I don't understand.” “You don't need to.” “That is another thing you always say.” “Because it is true.” Isla pulled away slightly. “You're making me nervous.” “I don't want you nervous.” “Then tell me what is happening.” “I can't.” “Why?” “Because you are not ready.” “Ready for what?” Her grandmother looked at her for a long moment. Then she reached for Isla's wrist. The crescent-shaped mark was visible beneath her sleeve. Her grandmother touched it gently. “Do you ever feel anything here?” “Sometimes.” “What?” “A little warmth.” “When?” “Sometimes when I'm frightened.” Her grandmother's fingers tightened. “Anything else?” “No.” “Are you sure?” “Yes.” Her grandmother quickly covered the mark. “Don't tell anyone about it.” “Why?” “Because I don't want anyone asking questions.” “Who would ask?” “Anyone.” “That doesn't make sense.” “I know.” Isla stared at her. “You're really scared.” Her grandmother looked into her eyes. “I am scared of losing you.” Isla's expression softened. “You won't.” “You don't know that.” “I know.” “You can't promise that.” “I can promise I'll be careful.” Her grandmother pulled her into a hug. “Please be careful.” “I will.” “Stay close to home tomorrow.” “I promise.” “Don't go into the forest.” “I won't.” “Don't wander outside alone.” “I won't.” “Don't let anyone see your blood.” Isla pulled back. “You really are serious about that.” “Yes.” “Why?” Her grandmother's eyes filled with sadness. “Because I need you to trust me.” Isla stared at her. “I do.” “Then trust me.” “I do.” Her grandmother kissed her forehead. “Good.” Isla smiled. “Now can I sleep?” “Yes.” “Good.” She climbed back into bed. “Goodnight.” “Goodnight, my child.” “I love you.” Her grandmother smiled. “I love you too.” Isla closed her eyes. For a while, the room was silent. Then she opened them again. “Grandmother?” “What now?” “Will there really be cake tomorrow?” Her grandmother laughed. “Yes.” “Good.” “Sleep.” “I am.” “You are talking.” “I'm almost done.” Her grandmother shook her head. Isla smiled. Eventually, the house became quiet. But her grandmother remained awake. She sat near the window and stared into the darkness. Her face had lost its warmth. Her hands trembled slightly. She whispered, “Please let me be wrong.” Outside, the forest was still. Then something moved between the trees. Her grandmother stopped breathing. She stepped closer to the window. Nothing. Only darkness She closed the curtain. “Not yet,” she whispered. Inside her room, Isla turned onto her side. She touched the crescent-shaped mark on her wrist. It felt warm. She frowned. “Why do you feel different?” She didn't know whether she was talking to the mark or to herself. She looked toward the door. “Grandmother?” No answer. Isla got out of bed and opened the door slightly. Her grandmother was still sitting beside the window. “Ar e you okay?” “Yes.” “You don't sound okay.” “I am fine.” “You're lying again.” Her grandmother smiled weakly. “Go back to bed.” “Promise me you're okay.” “I promise.” Isla hesitated. Then she nodded. “Goodnight.” “Goodnight.” She closed the door. Her grandmother waited until Isla was gone. Then she looked toward the window again. Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Tomorrow.” The word seemed to frighten her. She closed her eyes. “Tomorrow she turns twenty-one.” Inside her room, Isla lay awake. She thought about her mother. Her birthday. The strange mark on her wrist. Her grandmother's warnings. And the feeling that someone was watching the village. She pulled the blanket closer. “Something is wrong.” She didn't know what. She didn't know why. But for the first time in her life, Isla Hart felt that the world she knew was hiding something from her. And tomorrow, she would turn twenty-one.