Chapter 1

“Don’t look so shocked, Sula,” Lucien said. He kept his hand raised, like he wanted everyone to admire it. “You should be grateful I’m giving you a clean death.”

I touched my split lip. Then I looked past him at the Morton family seated beneath the white-bone banners.

My father didn’t move.

My aunt smiled.

Aileen’s fingers rested on Lucien’s arm, right where my engagement ribbon had been tied that morning.

“Clean death?” I asked. “Is that what you call cutting me open and scraping out my marrow?”

A few guests shifted in their chairs.

Lucien’s mouth tightened. “You’re a traitor. Traitors don’t get to complain about the knife.”

“There she is,” Aileen whispered. “Still pretending she’s innocent.”

I turned toward her. “You’ve always been good at pretending. It’s the only thing you inherited from Mother.”

Her eyes flashed, but Lucien caught my wrist before she could answer. His fingers dug into the old bruises beneath my sleeve.

“Careful,” he said. “You’re in no position to act clever.”

He was right about that part.

There were forty armed guards around the feast table. My father had ordered them into the hall before I arrived. The execution block waited behind the northern doors, already washed and ready.

I knew because I had seen it before.

I had died on that block once.

Not tonight.

“You promised to marry me,” I said.

Lucien gave a short laugh. “That promise ended when the council found your bone-craft hidden under the east wing.”

“My craft kept your father alive for six years.”

“And now it belongs to the clan.”

“No. It belongs to me.”

His grip tightened. “You don’t own anything.”

Aileen leaned against him. Her red wedding gown brushed my white one, staining the hem with a thin smear of color.

“Tell her the rest,” she said. “Don’t let her die still believing this was some misunderstanding.”

Lucien looked at the crowd. His voice carried easily through the hall.

“I’m ending my betrothal to Sula Morton,” he announced. “The council has approved my union with Aileen instead. She’ll take her place as the next northern bride.”

The guests began whispering.

Aileen lifted her hand. Lucien’s ring sat on her finger.

My ring.

The one he had pressed into my hand when we were sixteen. The one he swore he would never take back.

My father finally spoke. “Sula, kneel and accept the clan’s judgment.”

I stared at him. “You called me your daughter yesterday.”

“You stopped being my daughter when you hid your marrow from the family.”

“Funny. You remembered I was family when you needed my bones.”

His face hardened. “Guards.”

Two men moved toward me.

I pulled against Lucien’s hold. “Let go.”

“Apologize first.”

“To you?”

“To the Mortons. To Aileen. To the council.”

“And what do I get?”

Lucien leaned close. His breath smelled like spiced wine and someone else’s mouth.

“You get to die quickly.”

A laugh slipped out of me. It sounded wrong in the silent hall.

Lucien frowned. “What?”

“I was wondering how generous my former fiancé planned to be.”

He slapped me again.

This time, I let my head turn with the blow. I let my knees dip. I let everyone see me stumble.

Aileen smiled.

Then I drove my elbow into Lucien’s ribs.

He grunted and loosened his grip. I twisted free, caught his wrist, and shoved him back against the altar.

The old bone altar cracked under his shoulders.

“Get her!” someone shouted.

I grabbed my left hand with my right and bent the smallest finger backward.

The bone snapped.

Pain flashed hot up my arm. I bit it down before it could become a scream.

Lucien stared at my hand. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Taking back what’s mine.”

The broken finger split beneath my skin. White bone pushed free, thin and sharp, coated in blood. I caught it between two fingers and drove it through Lucien’s palm.

His hand slammed onto the altar.

He screamed.

The guards stopped.

I leaned over him, my white wedding sleeve dripping red beside his face.

“Don’t move,” I said. “You’ll tear it wider.”

“You’re insane!”

“No. I’m finally awake.”

His free hand reached for me. I caught his collar and pressed my knee against his thigh.

Up close, his fear smelled sweeter than his wine.

“You called me a traitor,” I said. “Say it again.”

He swallowed. “Sula—”

“Say it.”

“You’re a traitor.”

The hall erupted in shouting.

My father rose from his chair. “Sula, remove that bone and surrender.”

“Why?” I asked without looking at him. “So Lucien can finish cutting me open?”

“He has the authority of the council.”

“He has my ring.”

Aileen stepped forward, holding up her hand. “It’s not yours anymore.”

I looked at the ring on her finger.

“Take it off.”

“Make me.”

I smiled at her. “Gladly.”

I yanked the bone free from Lucien’s palm. He cried out and folded over the altar.

Before the guards could reach me, I crossed the space between Aileen and me. She stepped back, but her skirt tangled around her boots.

I caught her wrist.

Her pulse jumped under my thumb.

“Don’t touch me!” she snapped.

“You touched my life first.”

I twisted the ring from her finger.

Aileen slapped at my face. I caught her hand inches from my cheek and squeezed until her eyes watered.

“Smile,” I told her. “You’re the bride now.”

“You’ll hang for this.”

“Not before I do something worth hanging for.”

I shoved her away and placed the ring on the altar beside Lucien’s bleeding hand.

The old betrothal seal glowed faintly. It still carried my blood from the day Lucien had made his vow.

My father’s voice cut through the hall. “Sula. Stop.”

“No.”

I pressed my broken finger against the ring.

The blood ran into the carved lines.

Lucien lifted his head. “Don’t you dare.”

“You ended the betrothal in front of everyone.”

“That doesn’t give you the right to void it.”

“You said I owned nothing.”

I wrapped my hand around the ring.

“Then watch me take this back.”

The seal burned.

Lucien shouted as the mark on his wrist split open. A thin red line crawled from his skin to mine, then snapped apart with a sharp crack.

The bond broke.

The ring collapsed in my fist.

Metal bent. Stone shattered. Blood spilled between my fingers.

I opened my hand and let the pieces fall onto the altar.

“There,” I said. “Now you can marry whoever you want.”

No one spoke.

The silence lasted only three seconds.

Then my father pointed at the execution doors.

“Take her.”

The guards raised their spears.

A deep voice came from the northern end of the hall.

“Try.”

Every guard turned.

Varan Gault stood beneath the black archway, one hand resting on the hilt of his sword.

I had heard stories about the northern twins. Varan, the war commander who broke enemy lines with his bare hands. Kaiser, the chancellor who could ruin a family without drawing a blade.

Kaiser stood beside him, dressed in dark silver, his eyes fixed on the blood running down my hand.

Varan didn’t look at Lucien.

He looked at me.

His gaze dropped to my broken finger, then lifted back to my face.

“You made that blade yourself?” he asked.

“It was my finger.”

“Still counts.”

My father stepped between us. “This is Morton business.”

Varan’s mouth curved without warmth. “You invited the northern houses to witness your daughter’s execution. That makes it everyone’s business.”

“She’s a criminal.”

“Then why are you afraid of her?”

My father’s jaw tightened.

Kaiser moved around Varan, slow and neat, like he had all night. “The council’s judgment has not been signed.”

“It was witnessed,” my father said.

“Witnessed isn’t sealed.” Kaiser glanced at the broken ring. “And now the betrothal is void. You’ve lost your claim over her.”

My father turned on me. “You think these men will save you?”

“No,” I said. “I think you’ll kill me before they decide whether I’m useful.”

Varan’s eyes sharpened.

Kaiser smiled slightly. “She understands the room.”

“I understand men who want something,” I said. “Your brother wants my bone-craft.”

Varan came closer.

The guards moved aside without being told. He was tall enough that I had to lift my chin to meet his eyes. Heat rolled off him through the cold metal of his armor. He smelled like iron, pine resin, and old blood.

“What do you want?” he asked.

“To live.”

“That’s not enough.”

“It should be.”

“For a woman standing in the middle of a family execution?” His fingers closed around my wrist. Not hard. Not gentle either. “You need protection.”

I looked down at his hand. “Take it off.”

“Ask properly.”

“Go to hell.”

His thumb moved over my pulse.

The touch was small. It still made my breath catch.

Varan noticed. His eyes darkened.

Kaiser watched us both. “Varan.”

“She wants to live,” Varan said. “I can give her that.”

My father laughed. “You would bargain with a traitor?”

“I would bargain with a bone-crafter who just broke a council seal using her own hand.”

A guard took one step forward.

Varan didn’t even turn. “Move again and I’ll remove your arm.”

The guard stopped.

Varan leaned toward me. His voice dropped low enough for only me to hear.

“Marry me.”

My breath caught for real this time.

Behind him, Kaiser’s expression went flat.

I pulled against Varan’s grip. “You’ve lost your mind.”

“Probably.”

“You don’t know me.”

“I know you’re about to be executed. I know your family wants what’s inside your bones. And I know you just broke a bond in front of every witness in this hall.”

His thumb pressed once against my pulse.

“Marry me, Sula Morton, and the Gault house takes custody of your life.”

“My life isn’t property.”

“Tonight, it is.”

The words hit harder than Lucien’s slap.

Varan stepped closer until the edge of his armor brushed my sleeve.

“Refuse,” he said, “and your father cuts you open before midnight.”

“And if I accept?”

“You walk out beside me.”

“Your price?”

“A contract. Your bone-craft for my protection.”

“And your brother?”

Kaiser’s gaze met mine. “My brother gets a wife. I get access to every secret your family buried.”

“So this is revenge for you, too.”

“No,” Kaiser said. “It’s business.”

Varan’s grip tightened just enough to remind me he could drag me out without asking.

I looked at the execution doors. Then at Lucien, still clutching his ruined hand. Aileen stood behind him, pale and furious. My father had already decided I was dead.

Fine.

If the Mortons wanted a traitor, I’d become the worst one they had ever made.

“Where’s the contract?” I asked.

Kaiser reached inside his coat and pulled out a narrow strip of black bone.

Blood-seal bone.

A marriage contract carved into it.

Varan released my wrist, but his heat stayed on my skin.

“Touch the seal,” he said, “and the agreement starts.”

My father shouted, “Sula, don’t!”

Lucien dragged himself upright. “You can’t marry him. You’re mine.”

I looked at him. “You broke that when you chose her.”

Aileen’s voice shook. “You’ll regret this.”

“I already regretted loving you all.”

Varan held the black bone between us.

The carved seal pulsed once.

I reached for it, my blood still dripping from the broken finger, and the instant my hand closed around the bone—