They say a vampire's bite is supposed to feel like ecstasy. They lied. I stare at the ceiling of my chambers—our chambers, though Lucian hasn't slept here in months—and count the cracks in the ornate plasterwork. Forty-seven. One for each time I've told myself this would get better. My neck throbs where he fed last night. No gentle kiss to the wound afterward. No whispered thanks. He'd simply taken what he needed and left, his footsteps echoing down the marble corridor toward the west wing. Toward her. I press my fingers against the puncture marks, feeling the familiar ache that goes bone-deep. Three years of this. Three years of being the Vampire King's convenient blood bag while he lavishes attention on Celeste, my stepsister, the woman he believes he should have married all along. "Your Majesty?" My handmaiden, Mira, peers around the door. Her expression is carefully neutral, but I see the pity in her eyes. Everyone in the palace knows. "The King requests your presence in the throne room." My stomach drops. Lucian never requests my presence for anything pleasant. I force myself upright, ignoring the dizziness that comes from being drained too frequently. The healers have warned him to space out the feedings, but Lucian doesn't listen. Why would he? In his eyes, I'm not his wife. I'm just the disappointing substitute he got stuck with when my father offered the wrong daughter. The throne room is exactly as cold as I remember. Lucian sits on his obsidian throne, looking every inch the immortal king—sharp cheekbones, midnight-black hair, eyes like frozen silver. Once, those eyes made my heart race. Now they just make me tired. Celeste stands beside him, her hand resting possessively on the armrest. She's glowing, practically radiant in a gown of deep crimson that matches the ruby at her throat. My ruby, actually—part of the Solaris family heirlooms that my stepmother "borrowed" years ago. "Seraphina." Lucian's voice cuts through the cavernous space. He doesn't even look at me directly. "I'll make this brief." I clasp my hands in front of me to hide their trembling. I already know what's coming. I've known for months, really. Maybe from the very beginning. "I'm dissolving our marriage." The words should hurt more than they do. Instead, I feel something close to relief. "The kingdom needs the true Solaris bloodline," he continues, and now Celeste is smiling—that same sweet smile she used when we were children, right before she'd break my toys and blame me for it. "Your stepsister carries the ancient magic in her veins. The power that sustains our wards, strengthens our soldiers, protects our borders from the shadow creatures." I want to laugh. I want to scream. Instead, I stand perfectly still. "You've served your purpose," Lucian says, finally meeting my eyes. There's nothing in his gaze. No regret, no guilt. Just cold assessment. "The blood debt is paid. You're free to leave." "The blood debt?" My voice comes out steadier than I feel. "You've been draining me for three years, Lucian. Every night for the first year. Every other night after that. You've taken enough blood to fill a lake, and you call it paid?" "You were compensated." He waves a hand dismissively. "You lived in the palace. Wore fine clothes. Bore the title of Queen." "I bore your fangs." The words slip out before I can stop them. "I bore your contempt. I bore watching you court my stepsister in my own home." Celeste's smile widens. "Oh, Sera. Don't be dramatic. You were never suited for this life anyway. You're too... soft. Too human." The irony would be funny if it wasn't so tragic. "The divorce decree is prepared," Lucian says, producing a scroll from thin air with a casual flick of dark magic. "Sign it, and you may take whatever personal belongings you brought to this marriage. Nothing more." I walked into this palace with a single trunk of clothes and my mother's journal. That's what I'll leave with. "And if I refuse?" I ask, though I already know the answer. His eyes flash red. "Then I'll make you. Don't test me, Seraphina. You have no power here. You never did." That's where he's wrong. But he'll learn that soon enough. I take the scroll. The parchment is heavy, official, stamped with the royal seal. My hands don't shake as I read through the terms. It's all very formal, very legal. The marriage is dissolved. The blood debt is settled. I am to leave the palace within twenty-four hours and never return. There's a quill waiting, already dipped in ink. I should feel something. Anger, grief, betrayal. But all I feel is exhausted. "One question," I say quietly. "Did you ever love me? Even a little?" Lucian doesn't hesitate. "No." The truth is almost a kindness. At least now I know. I sign my name in steady strokes: Seraphina Solaris. The moment the ink dries, I feel it—a severing. Not just of the marriage bond, but of something deeper. The invisible threads that have been pulling at my blood, my magic, my very essence for three years suddenly snap free. It's like taking a full breath for the first time in forever.