Chapter 2

"Maren, don't tell me you still haven't given up?"

Rhys’s cold, mocking voice cut through the dim light of my cramped attic the moment I pushed the door open.

"Did you really think playing hard to get would work on me, Maren?" Rhys sneered, kicking the silver dust across the floorboards. "Avoiding me for these past few days? Hiding in this pathetic little attic? It’s a cheap tactic."

He was standing right by my desk. Without breaking eye contact with me, he casually reached out and yanked open the locked bottom drawer.

"All these years, you thought you hid it so well. Do you really think anyone in this castle is blind to your little obsession?"

Before I could say a word, he pulled out my old, worn sketchbook and a small velvet box. With a cruel smirk, he tossed them into the air.

Dozens of loose charcoal sketches fluttered to the floorboards like dead leaves—every single one a portrait of his face, drawn by me in my past life. Along with them fell a silver blood-pact pendant, a sacred artifact I had secretly forged for him, hoping to one day earn his recognition.

Crunch.

His heavy leather boot stepped deliberately onto the pendant, crushing the intricate silverwork into jagged dust.

"It’s a good thing you never had the nerve to confess," Rhys sneered, grinding his heel into the ruined silver. "Because I truly would have laughed in your face. Laughed at your sheer, delusional arrogance."

He kicked the sketchbook away and looked at me with pure disdain. "Maren, I took you in when you were just a helpless orphan. I provided for you all these years. Yet, despite your young age, you dared to harbor such filthy, inappropriate ambitions toward your Lord! You know perfectly well that Seraphina is the only woman in my heart, yet you still secretly forged a blood-pact pendant for me. You truly make me sick."

My chest suddenly tightened. A sharp, violent pang pierced my heart.

Even though my love for him had completely died in my past life, hearing these vicious words still triggered an inescapable, muscle-memory of pain.

I took a slow, quiet breath, burying that last trace of pathetic emotion.

"Are you done?" I asked, my voice flat.

My words seemed to agitate him further. He took a threatening step forward, his towering frame casting a dark shadow over me.

"I felt your ill-intentioned gaze during the onset of my Blood Tide Frenzy," he hissed, leaning down. "Let me make this absolutely clear. If you had dared to step into my room, attempting to offer your tainted blood as a 'cure,' I would have thrown you into the Blood Dungeon myself."

I met his furious gaze without a flinch. "I understand perfectly. Please close the door on your way out."

He stared at me, searching my eyes for the familiar desperate jealousy. But he failed. He turned on his heel, and slammed the door so hard the hinges groaned.

A few days later, I returned to the attic. Exhausted from the trip, I climbed the winding stairs to my attic and walked straight toward the inner alcove, intending to rest.

My steps abruptly halted.

The alcove was empty.

My Amber Blood Sarcophagus— the only keepsake my father had left behind for me after he died on the battlefield—was gone. Only a heavy rectangular outline of dust remained on the cold stone floor.

A sharp, familiar scent of my own blood, which had steeped into that amber over the years, still lingered in the air.

I immediately turned around and followed the scent out of the attic, tracking it straight toward the grand corridor of the main wing.

"Careful with the edges! Don't scratch the amber!"

Seraphina’s sweet, melodic voice echoed through the hallway. I turned the corner and saw four vampire servants struggling to carry my massive, glowing red sarcophagus into the future Lady’s lavish chambers.

Seraphina stood by the door, gently stroking her stomach. "Rhys is just far too anxious. He’s terrified my pureblood lineage is too delicate. He insisted I take the best Amber Blood Sarcophagus in the entire castle to stabilize my energy."

"The Lord truly cherishes you, Lady Seraphina," a maid fawned.

I stepped fully into the light of the corridor. The maids gasped and immediately fell silent, backing away.

Seraphina noticed me. "Oh, Maren! I... I didn't know you were here."

Before I could speak, heavy footsteps echoed from the opposite end of the hall.

Rhys strode in, his dark cloak billowing behind him. He immediately stepped in front of Seraphina, shielding her, his eyes locking onto mine with an icy warning.

"Don't start a scene, Maren," Rhys commanded, his voice echoing with absolute authority.

I glanced at the empty space where my sarcophagus used to sit. "That sarcophagus was given to me in exchange for my father’s life on the battlefield. It is the only relic my father left me. You had no right to take it"

Rhys frowned, a hint of impatience flashing in his eyes. "And it served its purpose. Your battle wounds healed years ago. You don't need a thousand-year-old relic just to sleep. Seraphina is the future Lady of Rookwood. Her bloodline requires the purest nourishment."

Seraphina clutched Rhys’s sleeve. "Rhys, please don't be so harsh on her. If Maren is going to be this upset... I can make do with a lesser coffin. I know she has lived here as a guest for so long, she probably feels entitled to all things. I don't want to cause a rift."

In the past, I would have screamed at her hypocrisy, completely losing my dignity, only to be punished by Rhys for disrespecting his fiancée.

This time, I simply nodded. "Fine, then keep it," I said.

The words dropped into the hallway like stones into a silent pond.

Rhys’s scowl faltered. Seraphina blinked.

"I said, keep it," I repeated "The amber is heavy, and dragging it back up all those stairs is a hassle anyway. Use it well, Lady Seraphina."

I turned around, fully intending to walk back to my room to finish packing.

"Stop right there."

Rhys had crossed the distance between us in a fraction of a second. He forcefully spun me back around. His crimson eyes were wide, burning with a chaotic mix of suspicion and anger.

"What kind of trick is this?" Rhys demanded through gritted teeth.

"Trick?"

"You are unnaturally calm!" His voice rose, echoing off the stone walls. "Usually, you’d be in tears right now. You’d be screaming about your father, crying about how I promised to take care of you! What scheme are you brewing now, Maren? What are you plotting?"

I gently, deliberately, pried his cold fingers off my wrist, one by one.

"You always told me I lacked the grace of a pureblood," I said softly, looking straight into his furious eyes. "You said you hated my jealousy, my tantrums, my pathetic delusions about my status here. You reminded me, that I have no name and no place."

I took a step back, putting distance between us.

"I am finally being the invisible, obedient guest you always demanded. Shouldn't you be thrilled, My Lord? Isn't this exactly what you wanted?"

Rhys stood completely paralyzed.

I didn't wait for him to find his voice. I turned my back on him and walked away.

Be angry all you want, Rhys, I thought. Let him comfort his precious white moonlight. I don’t care anymore, because I’m about to leave this place soon.