It there was a hell, I was convinced it would be difficult to distinguish from a formal vampire gala. Judging by the looks on the faces around me, I was alone in my theory. Musicians wrapped the ballroom in a spirited waltz. Laughter rang out above the strings as vampires gathered in small pockets, smiling and drinking together, pearlescent teeth flashing from behind blood-stained lips. Elegant couples who waltzed so well it was like watching a sea of extras from a dance-themed film filled the central dance floor.

Wasn’t that precious.

There was a time when I’d enjoyed the gala nights. Though, it was hard to remember why as I stood on a dais, overlooking the scene. How could I have been so naive as to not see these parties for what they really were—a power move to earn favor and good will? My father was a master at it. Granted, he’d had a few hundred years of practice. At thirty-two, I was a young bornling. A fact my father never forgot to point out when I questioned his governance. He always told me I would learn in time.

A bittersweet smile graced my lips as I thought about the last gala I’d attended.

Nearly six years ago, the Court had gathered on a night like this to celebrate the anniversary of my father’s rule. The barons of the other courts attended, bringing some of their best vampires. Melanie and I spent all afternoon in her bathroom getting glammed up for the big event. She was older than me by twenty years, though no one could tell by looking at us.

Bornlings were gifted with the ability to control aging. We grew from babies, just as any human would, but at some point in our twenties, the aging process froze in time. With conscious effort, we were able to age ourselves. Advancing from youth to lower middle age was usually a rite of passage for a mother and father when they had their own bornling. Our mother, Athena, had resisted aging herself but when I reached my late teens, our father somehow convinced her that the time was past for her to continue trying to look like our sister instead of our mother.

Turned vampires remained frozen at whatever age they’d been cursed. There were all kinds of ages, shapes, sizes, and ethnicities represented in the Court, but it was easy to spot a bornling. They usually appeared no older than forty, had preternaturally smooth skin, hair, and athletic builds regardless of their diet and exercise habits, and exuded a certain glow that was most simply attributed to the raw power in our veins.

As something of a hybrid, vampires—both turns and bornlings—retained some human traits. Camouflage, I supposed. We breathed, bled, and had the capability of eating and drinking anything we pleased, though bornlings rarely indulged. Turns, on the other hand, tended to miss their days as living humans and preferred to continue eating regular meals and drinking a wide range of beverages, not just blood, despite the fact that there was no survival instinct to do so. It was a creature comfort, pure and simple. Generally, the older a turn got, the more their human habits fell to the wayside.

Regardless of origin, no vampire could withstand sunlight. It wasn’t as dramatic as most movies made it out to be, but it was unpleasant nonetheless and reserved for only dire emergencies. The healing from sun exposure was painful and took an extended period of time.

Tonight, as usual, the gala was filled with bornlings as they were generally the only vampires able to reach nobility. Turns usually held lower positions, though there were a few notable exceptions. Over the decades, some turns had been clever enough to maneuver past the unspoken caste system and climbed to power and prominence.

Jupiter was a turn, but watching her in the crowd at the bar along the opposite wall, it would have been easy enough to mistake her for a bornling. She’d been a vampire for as long as I could remember. Turned at the age of twenty-four, she would retain her youthful beauty for a millennium.

She could be one of the turns who moved up the ladder; she was smart enough. Why had she sworn allegiance to my father’s house? What could have gone so wrong that she was left with no other option? Was this new love interest of hers worth staying behind and taking the position of a servant for?

I scanned the faces at the bar on either side of her, wishing I’d managed to wheedle the man’s identity out of her before we’d come downstairs. He could be anyone. More than a few heads turned her way as she pushed away from the bar, two beverages in hand, and crossed the room back to the dais. She’d changed into her own evening gown and applied a little make-up in the final minutes up in my bedroom and looked stunning. My father had almost immediately sent her to get us drinks, though he hadn’t asked me if I was thirsty.

For the record, I wasn’t.

I knew I needed to feed. It had been days since my last meal, but the idea made my stomach flip-flop and churn.

I immediately stopped thinking about food when a tall man caught Jupiter by the elbow. She turned back to him and her face broke into a wide smile. It was him! It had to be. He said something, his chiseled face stoic, and Jupiter burst into a peal of laughter that wound through the crowd. A smile twitched at the man’s lips but he didn’t laugh along. Mr. Serious, huh?

Jupiter nodded her head in our direction and the man looked up, meeting my eyes. The hint of a smile fell and his jaw reset in a firm line. He said something else to Jupiter and her own smile faltered. She held up the glasses and then scurried away.

The man’s dark eyes lingered on me for a moment and then he turned away and melted into the crowd.

That was … odd. What had Jupiter told him about me?

The band transitioned to a new song and I shifted my weight, cursing my high-heeled sling-backs. I’d been forced to stand in one place while my father greeted every member of the Court. Everyone was polite, if not a little too polite. I got the feeling I was chum in the open sea. The sharks were circling. They didn’t want a physical bite out of me, of course, but they were all salivating over me just the same. Each of them wanted to be the one to scoop up a juicy tidbit of gossip and carry it back to their cluster of friends. I could almost hear them: What did she say? Did she seem happy to be home? Where do you think she’s been this whole time?

“How long do we have to stand up here?” I hissed in my father’s direction as soon as our latest group of hangers-on flittered away. I would put money down that he was purposely making me wait. He wanted me uncomfortable. In some sick way, my discomfort pleased him and made up for the list of transgressions he held against me.

There wasn’t a therapist in the world who could undo our issues.

“You’ll stay here, and smile, for as long as I tell you to,” Lord Vaughn told me, his tone even and cool.

Heat crept up my throat, but I forced a serene smile when I looked at him out of the corner of my eye. “Honestly, I’m surprised you didn’t bother having a taller pedestal built for me to stand on. It would be more fair to those seated on the other side of the room. We wouldn’t want anyone to strain their eyes after staring at me all night.”

“Silence,” Lord Vaughn seethed through his smile. His dark eyes flashed at me—the dark look only lasted a fraction of a second but was fierce enough to cut glass.

Jupiter joined us and his gaze shifted back to the rest of the ballroom. “Sorry that took so long,” she said, handing me a glass.

I promptly set it on the tall cocktail table separating me and my father. “It’s not a problem,” I told her and then shifted my attention back to my father. “Am I allowed to go to the little vampiress’s room?”

“No.” He scowled at me. “You’ll remain here, where I can see you.”

“Really?” I scoffed. “It’s your call, but I can pretty much guarantee that whatever little princeling you’re waiting to introduce me to would prefer if I was allowed to use the facilities. This might be a black dress, but I’m pretty sure he’d notice if I—”

Lord Vaughn hissed. “Take Jupiter with you. She’ll make sure you don’t dawdle.”

I glared at him. So, that was how he planned on playing it, huh? Use my fear of Jupiter being punished for my transgressions to keep me in check.

Nicely played, Dad.

Swirling away, I stormed from the ballroom, not caring what the gossip mongers would say about it. The sound of Jupiter’s frantic footsteps followed as she chased behind me.

I didn’t slow down for her as I left the ballroom through the large archway and stalked down the hall, my heels clacking furiously on the hardwood floors. A cloud of whispers followed over my shoulder and I heard someone say my name as I swung around the corner. In a way, I supposed I’d brought it on myself. I was the one who’d left, who’d chosen to stay away. I left time for the gossip and rumors to percolate. And now, five years later, they were boiling over.

With a groan, I shoved open the bathroom door. Jupiter followed behind me. “Lacey, are you all right?”

“Define all right.”

I went to the sink and leaned against the vanity. The bathroom was cold and the marble underneath my palms bit into my skin. It wasn’t the guest bathroom, so apparently my father hadn’t bothered to have it heated. The old mansion had been updated with zonal heating, most of it underneath the floors, but in the sprawling eight-thousand square foot home, it wasn’t practical to heat the entire thing. My father didn’t run short on money by any means, but he held onto every quarter like it was his last. Except, of course, when it came to matters of the Court. Then, he transformed from a miser into a Powerball winner, eager to showcase his wealth and power.

Jupiter appeared in the mirror, taking her place beside me. Her delicate features were twisted with worry.

“I don’t think I can do this, Jupe.”

“You’re stronger than you realize,” Jupiter replied. “It’s not the best-case scenario, of course, but you’ll be safe here at Court and you won’t have to spend every minute of your life checking over your shoulder. You father will ease off you once he has what he wants. You’ll be able to build a new life here.”

“Oh, yes. All I have to do is chain myself to some pompous toad and I’ll be living on Easy Street.”

“Lacey, I just—”

I held up a hand and she stopped short. “I know you’re only trying to help, but right now, I don’t think I’m ready to climb out of the wallowing phase. Not yet.”

She nodded. “Do you need anything? I can go get you something to eat. I noticed you didn’t touch the glass I brought you.”

“It wasn’t synthetic,” I told her. “I don’t drink the real stuff.”

Her eyes rounded but she didn’t comment.

Years ago, when the witches and wizards created the secret havens that nestled in major cities across the globe, they’d invited vampires to take part in the supernatural community at large. We could live and work in the magically cloaked cities where we were free to be ourselves and not live in fear. Their only condition was that all vampires taking part in the haven were to submit to the Haven Council, a governing force made exclusively of witches and wizards, and follow their rules. One of which was that vampires were only to feed on the synthetic bloods they concocted, not from live humans—whether donors or victims.

Originally, my father declined their invitation and told them his Tarrytown estate was not to be included in the lines they were drawing for the slice of New York they wanted to enchant. The mansion was a historic landmark, and he argued that the humans would notice if it went missing. However, the real reason was that the Court did not want to give up their freedom to the witches and wizards, mostly because the Eastern Court vampires preferred to drink from live donors. Not all of the members, but the vast majority. It took a lot of time to become a high-ranking member of the Court, which meant those at the top who made the decisions were old school in nature. Or, rather freak-of-nature.

Several decades ago, the Haven Council annexed several estates in Sleepy Hollow, Tarrytown’s neighboring community, and approached my father again with their offer. My father caved in and allowed the witches and wizards to cloak the mansion with their enchantment spells and counted it as part of the extensive New York Haven. Humans would still see the mansion, but all comings and goings were veiled. I wasn’t sure how it worked. Magic wasn’t my trade. But I was told it was quite a feat.

As to why my father eventually agreed to its inclusion in the havens, well, there were a few different theories on that. Most convincing was that at the time, there were some vampire hunters out of London who were making trouble, and while on the whole, vampires could protect themselves, it was right after I’d been born. Rumor had it that my mother forced my father’s hand because she wanted me as encased in magical bubble wrap as possible. Which, I supposed made sense. Bornlings are rare. Most vampire families are lucky to get one, let alone two. After Melanie was born, she’d struggled for years to have another, and once she did, she wasn’t about to risk my safety.

Regardless of his promises, my father skirted most of the Haven Council’s rules and governed his territories and those underneath him as though they didn’t exist. Secretly, I was pretty sure they were afraid of both him and the so-called Vampire Council, and knew that if pushed too far, it could lead to a supernatural war of the ages. If they knew he and his court were using live donors for feeding, they were turning a blind eye to it. For the time being, at least.

“I can get you synthetic,” Jupiter said, wringing her hands. “I would have to go to the kitchen. Your father keeps some on hand for whenever dignities from other courts come to visit.”

I shook my head. “Don’t worry about it. I brought some of the vacuum-sealed stuff with me. It’s in my suitcases upstairs. I’ll feed after the party. I just needed some air, mainly.”

She opened her mouth but then thought better of whatever she’d been about to say and closed it. “All right.”

I splashed some cold water on my wrists and the back of my neck and patted dry with one of the thick white towels folded in a neat pile beside the sink. “Let’s go. If we wait too much longer, he’s likely to send that brute Jerrod after us.”

We left the bathroom and started back toward the ballroom. Halfway there, we encountered two women, dressed up like it was prom night in the 1990s in revolting cotton-candy colored dresses. Ugh. The Dalore sisters. They had about as much common sense as they did fashion sense, which wasn’t saying much for either of them.

“Lady Vaughn,” they said in stunned unison.

“It’s so good to have you back at Court,” Farrah, the taller of the two, said.

“Yes! So good!” Denise, the shorter one, sputtered to agree.

Then, they both burst into giggles.

“Thank you.” Forcing a smile, I gave them both a polite nod and sashayed past them and down the hall. Their tittered laughter followed me and turned into a flurry of excited whispers as I hurried away.

“I can’t believe she had the audacity to come back to Court, after everything she’s put us through!”

“Do you think it’s true what they say about her?”

“Of course! It’s so obvious! She helped that blood traitor and got away with it. It’s only because she’s the baron’s daughter. If she was anyone else, she’d have been tried and punished. Which, as far as I’m concerned, is exactly what she deserves!”

The harsh words plunged like hot knives between my shoulder blades and I picked up my pace, suddenly eager to get back to the ballroom. The only good thing about being chained to my father’s side was that as long as I was in his presence, the judgmental harpies would have to bite their tongues.

Jupiter didn’t say anything as we walked, though there was no doubt she’d heard them. Her lips were pursed and anger radiated from her with every clipped step.

“It’s fine,” I told her.

The waltz music had changed to a lively tempo and I plastered a bright smile on my face before rounding the corner into the ballroom.

“Good girl,” Lord Vaughn said when I stepped back into place beside him. I frowned, biting back another bitter retort at being spoken to like a faithful hound. “I’d say it’s time we let everyone in on our plan.”

“Our plan?” I repeated, my upper lip curling back.

“Yes. Don’t you want to share your new happiness with the Court?” He gave me a cool look.

“Happiness? Is that what this feeling is? I was chalking it up to nausea from breathing in everyone’s puffed-up egos all night.”

Lord Vaughn’s cold smile faltered but quickly rebounded. The edges of his thin lips twisted into a smirk I knew too well. He’d won the game. A shiver ran down my spine, instantly stamping out the little glow from my snappy retort. Turning to the crowd, he raised his glass and called for attention.

The room fell silent. I sucked in a breath. This was it—the moment I’d so vividly pictured over the last five years. The snares had been closing in on me a little tighter with every passing day, and now … I was caught. Inescapably pinned right where my father wanted me.

Applause rang through the large room, echoing as Lord Vaughn lifted his glass in a toast. “Good evening, family. I’m so pleased you could all attend tonight’s soiree.” He paused to allow for polite responses from the crowd. His smile fell on me and I involuntarily shrank away. “Our guest of honor is indeed among us. My darling Lacey, has returned to us, ready for a fresh start here at Court.”

Another round of applause followed, even as I could see plenty of faces in the crowd whispering to their neighbor out of the corner of their mouths.

My father continued. “She’s prepared to take her rightful place and will be married at the annual Hallow’s Eve celebration ball.”

My eyes snapped open wide and the frail hold I had on my smile fell away. Hallow’s Eve was only six months away. He couldn’t possibly expect me to wed so quickly!

Lord Vaughn smiled at me again and something dark and dangerous flashed in his eyes. If he was this happy about something, it could only mean trouble for me. “Lacey, as you are the Legacy Bearer of House Vaughn, I’ve decided to honor the ways of our ancestors in choosing you a suitable husband.” He paused, leaving just enough time for my every nerve to cinch like tightly wound guitar strings.

“House Vaughn will be hosting a Tournament of Blood!”

Hushed whispers engulfed the room. I swayed in place.

My father continued, raising his hands. “I’ve hand-selected eight suitors, any one of which I would be proud to see continue the Vaughn name. With your help, of course.” He laughed and the crowd joined in, the whispers reaching a fever pitch.

“A Tournament of Blood?” I repeated, my own voice barely audible.

“It’s been nearly a century since the last one took place, a pity really, as it is quite good fun. The eight suitors will participate in three rounds of duels. Each winner will move on to the next round. At the end, there will be two men left standing, culminating in a final duel, which will be to the death.”

A flurry of whoops and hollers soared through the room, the volume deafening. My father all but danced a jig, his eyes sparking with glee. “The winner will be granted my blessing to join House Vaughn and marry you in order to produce an heir.”

As the full weight of his twisted words hit me, I felt what little blood I had left in my veins drain to my feet. The ballroom started to spin and then went black.