Chapter 19: Contract Clause #7
I had never been so trapped as I was then.
Having seen Kael with Lady Seraphina, and having heard the poisonous gossip of the court hanging around like smoke, there was no chance of keeping calm. Whenever I blinked, they were standing together in my mind's eye. Whenever I breathed, it hurt.
He had told me that he could be my thing.
But soon, in a day or so, he would choose her.
And I would have been ignored.
I would have not survived.
I'd understood, with the bone instinct which had run in me deep down and shaken to my very bones.
Which is why, the second time that I saw the blood contract again — hidden away amongst the drawer where Kael had thrown it carelessly as some bauble of no value — I tore it apart.
For the first time since that abysmal night, I'd sealed my fate with a dash of blood, I read it.
The parchment groaned beneath my fingers, aged and heavy with magic that faintly glowed in the light of the candles. My blood still lingered, smudged at the edge like a seal, holding me to him.
To this life.
To this prison.
Clause by clause went through my mind — of obedience, of claims of blood, of silence — until a small, barely perceptible paragraph caused me to pause.
Clause #7: If the Dominant Party fails to keep the condition of exclusive possession, the Submissive Party can submit a written notice to terminate the contract.
I blinked.
Read it again.
Fails to keep the condition of exclusive possession.
My own heart was thundering so loudly in my chest that I could hardly discern the sound of my thinking.
Exclusive possession.
Hadn't I shattered that very thing by indulging in fantasizing about marrying someone else? By allowing Lady Seraphina to touch me, to own me in the eyes of the court?
If Kael no longer simply owned me, if he was going to take another — I might have a way out.
My fingers trembled as I unraveled the delicate, ancient handwriting.
Hope — sharp and dangerous — bloomed in me.
A tiny loophole, hardly perceptible among the stack of vows he'd coerced out of me. And yet, there it was.
A weapon.
A chance.
Freedom.
The word tasted bitter on my lips.
I set the parchment on the desk and leaned over it, repeating every word of Clause #7 by heart, committing its words to memory. If I did this wrong, Kael might spoil the effort before it even began.
But if I did it right.
I could stop it.
I couldn't stop him.
Or at least stop his hold on me.
The thought rang in my veins and pumped my heart with a primitive sort of exultation I had not experienced for months.
A scheme began to form in my mind — delicate, lunatic — but I clutched at it like a woman who clutches wreckage in a typhoon.
There was a hitch.
A formal complaint had to force the call for an arbiter.
An impartial person.
Someone brave enough to stand between me and Kael without being destroyed for it.
Here, in this palace?
Among vampires who had revered Kael as a god?
It had been almost impossible.
Almost.
My mind turned to the library. To the forbidden archives, I had only just begun to explore. If there were loopholes buried deep within the blood-soaked history of this kingdom, there were perhaps secrets too.
Perhaps. perhaps. there had been some way of provoking Kael to action without the need to involve an uninvolved referee.
A secret rite.
An invocation by blood.
Some tradition and strong enough that not even Kael could cover his ears.
I pressed the paper under my mantle and extinguished the candle, pulse thumping in my throat.
I would do.
I had to.
Because if I didn't. The next time he waved me aside like a worn-out toy. It would kill me completely.
And I wasn't ready to die.
Not yet.
The library was dark and silent when I crawled inside.
Moonlight filtered through high windows, illuminating silver puddles on the floor. Row after row of dusty shelves stood up around me like guards, whispering too-old secrets that didn't want to be told.
I moved cautiously between the shelves, fingers running over the cracked leather spines of the books, looking for something that could assist me.
The restricted area was guarded by magic — a cold shining wall of air and hidden teeth. But I'd been let in once before by Kael unknowingly when he'd had me fetch him an old album.
I'd discovered the ritual he used to break the ward.
Three counter-clockwise revolutions with my heel. One, clockwise. One soft word in the old tongue.
"Salis venarum."
The barrier shuddered.
Broken.
Lost.
I stepped through, racing my heart.
Dust and forgotten knowledge weighed upon me from all sides.
I had no idea at all what I was looking for.
Only that I would recognize it when I found it.
Time ceased to exist as I pushed books off tables, reading covers in languages that I could barely decipher. Blood Rites. Oaths of Binding. The Old Contracts. The King's Law.
Nothing.
Nothing that might help me.
Until—
A thin book, almost invisible, wedged between two thicker books.
I extracted it.
The cover was plain except for a single sigil branded into the leather: two daggers crossing above a heart.
I opened it slowly, the pages groaning with age.
And there it was.
The Rite of Blood Severance.
My breath was stolen.
The ritual was simple. Revolting.
If I did it correctly — in the right circumstance — it would cancel out any blood contract, no matter how strong, no matter how old.
But the cost.
The cost was steep.
Blood had to be spilled. Not only mine.
I had to sacrifice a life.
A willing one.
An offering.
My stomach twisted.
Could I do that?
Could I murder another life just to preserve my own?
My hand on the crumpled parchment tightened.
Yes.
I would.
For if I stayed here — tied to a man who would never love me, never choose me — I would die anyway.
Bit by bit.
Beat by beat.
And I didn't want to die like that.
I fastened the book to my arm and leaned into the door, spine bracing.
There was no turning back now.
I no longer hope.
No longer waiting for Kael to change.
I would forge my fate, no matter if it was in tears and blood.
Even if it damned me.
For freedom — real, true freedom — was worth any price.
Even my soul.
To be continued….