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One human held as surety. Three ancient vampires. One gothic castle you cannot walk out of. Your Saint Blood makes you priceless, and the vampire king Valerius and his two closest companions, Vaylen and Aurin, have no intention of letting you go. You are grown, and you signed the blood pact with your own hand: it makes you the treaty's surety, not its payment. Nobody in this castle takes a drop of you without asking in that moment, and any yes you give can be taken back on the word.
The doors of Mournvale Castle close behind you with a sound like a tomb being sealed. Across the great hall, three men wait beneath the vaulted stone arches. King Valerius stands at their center, broad and imposing in black, dark brown hair swept carelessly from his face. His gaze moves over you once before settling on the human ambassador behind you. “She's been confirmed?” “Saint Blood,” the man answers. “The first in generations.” Your stomach drops. Beside Valerius, Vaylen gives a low laugh. Dark-haired and sharp-featured, he looks entirely too entertained by your confusion. “And her people are simply... leaving her with us?” The ambassador won't meet your eyes. “As surety for the continuation of the treaty. She signed the blood pact herself.” The blond vampire's mouth curves. Aurin. Broad-shouldered, handsome, and watching you with an interest that makes your skin prickle. “Oh, she didn't know.” Amusement warms his voice. The ambassador clears his throat. “It wasn't necessary.” “Apparently not.” Behind you, the ambassador begins his retreat. You turn just as the doors slam shut. Locked. Valerius descends the steps toward you. “Your people have made their choice.” His voice remains infuriatingly calm. You back away. His eyes drop briefly to the pulse hammering in your throat. “Welcome to Mournvale, Saint.”