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The gravity of what I'd just done and the decisions I'd made settled over me when I came face to face with Natalia.

As soon as the door was closed, she rounded on me. Hands on her hips.

"What the hell was going on in there?"

This was a rhetorical question—she saw me with my pants down. It was clear I was doing something I shouldn't have been, and Natalia knew the law just as well as I did.

Vampires weren't allowed to make sexual advances on their sanguine partners.

But she didn't know the truth.

Hell, I'd known the truth for weeks, and I was still wrestling with what I'd done.

I had to be strong enough to carry out my duties as lord of this castle and Marius's general, but thoughts of Claire permeated my every waking moment.

As loathe as I was to admit it, I needed help.

The only problem was that I didn't want to involve Natalia in this. It was unfair to implicate her in my wrongdoings.

So, instead of being honest, I brushed past her, making my way across the hall toward the council chamber, irritation collecting at my temples and the weight of responsibility sitting on my shoulders.

Undeterred by my coldness, Natalia caught up to me, grabbing me by the arm and whirling me around.

"Bastien!" she gasped. Her attention fixed on my chest. "Y-Your bloodstone!"

I looked down, only to realize that in my haste, I hadn't put my jacket or cravat back on, and the bloodstone was glowing right through the button holes. Pulsing away for all to see.

This was why I needed her help, but I was too proud to ask.

"Leave it alone," I said, slapping her hand away and turning around to fetch a new jacket and tie from my room.

Natalia chased after me, following at my heels. The door of my private apartment was carved of ebony-stained wood and bore the sigil of House Allard, opened at my approach. The magick of the castle allowing only its master passage.

She followed me inside, and the door closed behind us.

"Gods, this makes so much sense," she nearly shouted once we were safely behind the wards. "This explains why you've been acting so...so weird."

I glared at her. I'd been called many things over the course of my life, but never had I been accused of being weird.

I could feel my temper begin to rise, and the part of me that was a predator awakened, just as it had done in Claire's room.

"Bastien, you know what this means," Natalia continued. "The implications alone of taking your mate as a sanguine partner are severe. You could be dethroned! Or worse, exsanguinated!"

"Don't you think I know that!" I shouted back.

I shouldn't have underestimated Natalia's cleverness or my own shortcomings. Even though I hadn't told her, she'd figured it out all the same. And if she could figure it out in a matter of weeks, it was only time before others did as well.

Marius might've forgiven me for tasting Claire's blood before the ritual could be completed, but this he would have no tolerance for. He'd demand my return to the capital, or he'd be duty bound by the blood treaty to take my life.

My life felt like it was unraveling. I was careless and impulsive—wholly unlike myself.

There was nothing I could do to stop the effects of our mate bond. I knew I was risking everything by telling Claire about our mate bond and giving in to my primal urges, but I didn't know how to resist her. It was like asking a vampire not to crave blood. It was...impossible.

Unless, of course, I was willing to summon a god. Which I wasn't.

When I saw the tears in Natalia's eyes, I realized she was less angry at me for keeping this from her and more afraid for me.

Still, I couldn't find it in me to ask for her help.

"I'm sorry," I told my niece. "I need you to trust that I know what I'm doing."

When she didn't respond, I turned and made my way toward the back of my apartment, to the bed chamber where I kept my clothing. Once I reached my closet, I heard the clacking of her shoes on the wood floors.

"I do trust you," she said as I grabbed a fresh jacket and shrugged into it. Appearing in the doorway. "More than anyone else. But this is different. You're mated. To her of all people. Gods, Bastien, you have new responsibilities. Things you're supposed to do. Like, create an heir!"

As if I needed to be reminded, the weight of those responsibilities followed me wherever I went. Being mated wasn't just a responsibility; it was a way of life that I had no experience navigating.

But one thing was for sure: I would not create an heir. Doing so would nullify any chance of keeping my mate bond a secret.

For the longest time, I'd thought I'd been born a mateless vampire. Forgotten by the gods and glad for it. In nearly 500 years since I'd been turned, all of my brothers had succumbed to their mate bond multiple times over as their mates were reborn again and again.

All except me.

I'd put the idea of a mate and a child so far out of my mind and turned to the one thing that I was good at--war.

"And what would you have me do?" I asked, fastening a new tie. "Return to the capital? Pass Chateau Rose on to Tyson? Leave him to lead our forces into the Lawless Lands to negotiate with Hector and placate the covens?"

"No. Of course not," Natalia replied. Deep down, I knew she was just as unhappy as I was to have an heir named for me. "I still don't understand why you can't petition Marius to allow me to take over."

Since the moment I'd seen my niece swing a sword, I'd known she was a warrior, and I needed help leading and ruling here in the north. But she wasn't my heir. And as much love as I had for her father, I knew her presence here was temporary.

"You're Josse's heir. Not mine. When his mate is reborn, and they reunite, you'll take over Chateau Blanc."

Fury burned in her eyes. "I'm my father's heir until he births a son."

I blew out a long breath. I didn't agree with the patriarchal system that was in place for vampires; it wasn't a part of my upbringing in my coven, but for whatever reason, the elders determined physical strength was necessary for the protection of peace, and so they foolishly decided only males would rule.

"Which may never happen," I said, trying to offer reassurance as I approached the place where she stood. "Listen, I understand you're scared, but I need you to trust that I have everything under control."

We stared at each other for a long moment. I needed her to believe that I could do this in order to believe it myself.

Finally, Natalia said, "I trust you." She crossed her arms. "It's her I don't trust her. Even if she is your, you know what."

This again. Her skepticism. I shook my head as I brushed past her, checking my reflection in a mirror to ensure no one could see the bloodstone. "Not everyone is an enemy," I reminded her as I straightened my tie.

"But some are," she hissed. "There's something about her and her sister that I don't like."

I'd had my suspicions about Claire at first, but now I understood why she'd bought that necklace. She was scared, and besides, she was my mate. I had to trust her. The gods wouldn't have mated us if we couldn't trust each other.

"Claire has given us no reason to mistrust her. And you had her sister followed back to the Nightfall Convent. You know she donated all the coin I gave her to the sisters. How much more proof do you want? Claire is not an enemy. End of story."

Natalia's opinion appeared to be unchanged despite my logical reasoning. Even though I often trusted her judgment, she could be pig-headed and stubborn.

Now, I needed to ask something else of her, besides trusting my mate.

"Can I trust you to keep this information confidential?"

She nodded once, turning away from me. "You know I will."

Relief settled over me, knowing that her silence bought me more time to figure things out.  "Thank you."

Natalia let out an annoyed breath. "Don't get all sentimental on me. I'm not your mate."

I grinned. "Thank the gods."

We shared a laugh that relieved some of the tension, but I could tell she still had her doubts. To be fair, so did I.

Without another word, the two of us left my apartment and made our way to the council chambers, where my advisors were waiting, looking grim.

"What news?" I asked, taking my seat at the head of the table.

I noticed my nephew was seated in a chair in the corner, which I found annoying. Yes, as my heir, he needed to be involved, but I was still furious with him for getting Claire drunk. The whelp.

All of this could have been avoided had he not involved himself.

"A raven has arrived from Devonelle. More attacks have been made by Witches of the Light," my counselor announced. His words echoed around the room. "The Kemp family states their defenses were breached, and Hera has informed us one of their own is dead."

Not again.

The troubles I'd heard from Sheeresa seemed to be following me north, leaving behind a trail of increasingly heinous carnage.

I leaned forward in my seat. My fists curling into tight balls. Even though I already knew the answer, I had to ask.

"Who was killed?"

The room went dead silent.

"By all accounts," he said, "it's Temperance."

Grumbles and whispers went around the council room. My worst suspicions confirmed. The matriarch of an incredibly powerful coven was dead. I was saddened to hear this news, but this was the last thing I wanted to hear tonight. 

I had other, more important things to worry about than old grudges, but perhaps Imogen had been right when she counseled me down at her salt pools. Perhaps the war I so badly wanted to believe was over had begun anew.

Rubbing a frustrated hand over my face, I sat back in my chair, staring at the maps laid out in front of me. The territory that I was sworn to protect. Peace. That was our mission. That's what the covens had created us for.

Staring at the mark on the nearest map labeled Witches of the Light Territory, I wondered what to do. Tradition demanded I attend the funeral of a matriarch, but this was the wrong time to be heading south.

My Grand Advisor, Laurent, let out a sigh that seemed to capture my own feelings on the matter. "Some will never listen to reason, no matter how much peace you keep, my lord."

The room went quiet again, and I wondered how I could make this problem go away. I didn't need to ask which coven had attacked the Kemps. There was only one still causing problems. 

Obliterating the entire coven was appealing, but there were still those who quietly supported the old ways, and killing one unruly coven could rally others to their cause, pitting them against us.

"I'm sorry, uncle," Tyson said, interrupting my thoughts, "but are you saying this all started over The Choosing?"

The Choosing. The night my brothers and I were selected for this task.

My gaze wandered to my nephew, who had risen out of his chair and had wandered over to the stone table. He looked so much like his father in this light, it was shocking. Hair so black it was nearly blue and olive skin, tanned from the southern weather.

I wondered how much he'd been taught about our histories or if the entirety of his education was conducted in the training yard and at fancy dinner parties.

"Yes. That's correct," I replied. "There was a coven who thought they deserved to provide a tribute. At the time, their matriarch believed her strongest spellcaster, a witch named Dorian, should be chosen as one of the twelve protectors of the realm."

If I closed my eyes, I could still see Dorian's face. His pale hair and smug expression.

"And they're still bitter about it?" he asked with a quizzical look on his face.  So innocent in his belief that old grudges would ease with time.

I rarely found this to be the case.

Grudges ripen, like grapes on a vine, becoming sweeter and juicier. After a time, the younger generations have no idea who planted the vine or why they must pick its fruit, but it's become such a large part of their culture that they stop asking questions.

"To describe the Proctor coven as bitter would be an understatement. Their displeasure and continued acts of aggression have sowed dissent amongst the other Witches of the Light who desire peace. They've been shunned by nearly all the other covens, with few exceptions. Even still, they manage to cause trouble."

Natalia banged her fist on the table. "If you won't say it, then I will. Angelina Proctor is a relentless baffoon, and to keep the peace you promised to uphold, we must take her and her family out."

Many nodded their agreement.

"She may lack the resources to start a war, but damn if she's not going to try," my master-at-arms added.

I folded my hands under my chin, thinking how best to handle this attack.

Marius's blood runs just as hot as Natalia's, and when I tell him of this most recent attack, he very well may reach the same conclusion. 

Angelina Proctor may have just sealed her coven's demise.

Had to give you all a little plot and backstory to balance out the 🔥🔥 🤣.

I know some of you were interested as to why the Claire's mama was so anti-vampire/anti-dark magick. I hope this sheds some light on it.

Have you changed your mind?

Is Bastien a former Witch of the Light, or a former Witch of the Darkness?