Their Spare Daughter, His Second Choice

“You don't deserve to be a daughter of this House,” my mother hissed, her eyes burning crimson in the firelight. “If you can't support your sister as our heir, get out.” I should have seen it coming. In House Ashenveil, family came first—unless you were me. Vera Darkthorn. The disappointment. My perfect younger sister, Iris, got the love, the title, even Kane, the man I was supposed to bind myself to. I got an empty chapel on the night of my blood-binding. Even the man who had sworn himself to me never showed. So I left. Now I'd built a life among Berlin's underground vampire courts, where power was the only currency that mattered. I'd learned to fight. To lead. To make vampires twice my size lower their eyes with a look. Then word came that Iris was dying, and suddenly my family wanted me back. “Come home, Vera.” My father's voice rasped through the phone. “Your sister needs you.” I almost laughed. After everything? But I wasn't the helpless daughter they'd discarded anymore. This time, I knew how to use my fangs. And when your own blood comes hunting for you, you don't run. You go for the throat. Chapter 1 Tonight was supposed to be my binding night. Before all of House Ashenveil, Kane Blackthorn would offer me his blood and drink mine in return. The ritual would seal our bond and name me his future consort. We'd trained together since childhood. Everyone said we were perfect for each other. A future lord and his lady. Balanced. Predictable. Safe. I smoothed the front of my cloak for the hundredth time and looked toward the entrance again. Still nothing. Not my parents. Not my brother, Dax. Not even Kane. Just me, standing alone in the silence. I pulled out my phone and checked it for the fifth time. No new messages. My thumb hovered over Kane's name before I called again. Two rings. Voicemail. I stared at the screen, torn between laughing and smashing it against the chapel wall. Then a notification from the House's official feed lit up my screen. WELCOME HOME, IRIS DARKTHORN The video started automatically. There they were. My family. Every last one of them, gathered at the North Ridge private terminal as a jet rolled to a stop. Father was beaming. Mother had tears in her eyes. Dax lifted Iris off her feet and spun her around. Even Kane was there, waiting just behind her. Iris's golden hair gleamed beneath the terminal lights. She slipped her arm through Kane's as though that was where she belonged. She'd always been good at that. Something burned behind my ribs. A moment later, my phone vibrated again. Kane. “Don't be dramatic, Vera,” he said, sounding as if I'd called to complain about the weather. “We can do the binding later. Iris just got back from heir training at the Nocturne Academy—” The call ended. I stared at the screen. My fangs pressed against my lower lip. Around me, the chapel was silent except for the faint rustle of night-blooming petals falling onto stone. I looked down at the cloak I'd spent hours embroidering with silver thread. It pooled around my feet, suddenly absurd. A costume for a woman no one had bothered to come and see. I took it off. Left it there. By the time I reached Ashenveil Manor, the welcome-home party was in full swing. Someone was warming bloodwine in the back kitchen. Iris's perfume filled the corridor, roses and sweetgrass so thick they smothered every other scent. Laughter spilled out of the drawing room, loud and careless. No one noticed me come in through the kitchen door. I went straight to my room and sat on the edge of the bed. My journal lay open on my lap. Inside was a list. Nothing elaborate. Just every time they'd forgotten me. Overlooked me. Left me behind. I added one more entry. Blood-binding. No one came. I'd told myself that if they came tonight, I would stop keeping count. We could start again. I turned to the next page and wrote two words. LAST CHANCE. Then I crossed them out. A knock sounded. The door creaked open before I answered. Dax walked in like he owned the place, his boots heavy on the floorboards. “There you are.” His gaze swept over me, then caught on the everyday cloak folded beside my desk and the half-written letter to the Council. “Iris wants your spiced bloodwine. The hot blend. Says she's missed it.” I looked at him, my hands resting in my lap. “You missed my binding.” Dax blinked. Then he shrugged. “It's a ceremony. You and Kane can do it next month. Or the month after. Iris is home, Vera. We haven't seen her in a year.” He picked up my journal and flipped through it without asking. “You're still keeping this thing?” His gaze stopped on the page after my latest entry. Two words stood at the top. LAST CHANCE. He snorted. “What's that supposed to mean? You're going to run away? Go houseless?” He tossed it onto the bed. “Just make the bloodwine, Vera.” I stood slowly and walked past him into the kitchen. My hands stung as I took a sealed blood decanter from the cooler. The new cleanser they'd brought home—Iris's favorite brand—had left angry red patches across my skin. Dax leaned against the wall behind me, watching a little too closely. “Why are you so quiet?” he asked. “Planning to poison her or something?” Before I could answer, Iris called from the drawing room. “Daxy! My pomegranate!” He rolled his eyes, muttered, “Coming,” and left without another glance. I ran cold water over my hands and watched the redness fade to pink. My gaze drifted toward the counter. The binding cake I'd ordered sat untouched. Beside it, our rings waited in their velvet box. I didn't cry. I just stood there for a long time, looking at everything that was supposed to have mattered. The hunger inside me had been quiet all evening. Now it stirred, sharp and restless. I'd called that instinct Vespa for as long as I could remember. Giving it a name made it easier to distinguish its ruthless certainty from my own excuses. They've made their choice, Vespa whispered. Now we make ours. Beyond the window, the trees of the northern forest swayed in the night wind. I dried my hands and left the kitchen. In my room, the half-written letter to the Council lay beside my desk. I sat down and finished it. Then I signed my name, folded the page, and put it in my bag. Chapter 2 I set the crystal carafe on the long oak table. The scent of warmed blood and spices curled into the air. Laughter drifted out of the drawing room. Father, usually buried in Council meetings and the business of running House Ashenveil, sat back in his chair and listened to every word Iris said about the Nocturne Academy. “We trained under Elder Eldric himself,” she said, her eyes shining. “He said my command of blood was instinctive. Strong enough to rule any court.” Mother clasped her hand. “My darling, you've grown so pale. Have you been feeding properly? You need rest. All that training will drain your reserves and dull your senses.” Beside them, Dax was picking pomegranate seeds out of their rind with the devotion of a personal servant. I stood in the doorway between the kitchen and the drawing room. Watching. Never invited in. Their room was bright and full of voices. Everyone leaning in. Everyone listening. Mine was dark and quiet. Easy to forget. Iris raised her voice, sweet enough to sound rehearsed. “Vera, why are you standing over there? Are you still mad at me for ruining your binding?” The conversation stopped. Three faces turned toward me as though I were a problem that had come back after they thought it was settled. Father frowned. “Come here, Vera. Stop sulking.” Mother gave me the impatient look she always wore when Iris cried. “You chose a terrible night. Your sister had just landed, and we were exhausted from going to meet her. Surely you understand that.” Then she twisted the knife. “If you're going to hold this against your sister, you're no daughter of mine.” Iris gasped, eyes wide with practiced concern. “Mom, don't be so harsh. You'll hurt Vera's feelings.” The little smile at the corner of her mouth said something else. She'd known the date. I'd told her a week before. She'd even replied. Can't wait! I've got a surprise for you. Some surprise. Ever since we were children, Iris had known how to turn anything into a test. An occasion for everyone to choose between us. They always chose her. Even people I'd thought were my friends. I looked at Mother. For a moment, I waited for her to remember the empty chapel. The cloak I'd embroidered. The invitations I'd sent weeks ago. She glanced toward Iris instead. “Well?” My throat tightened. “I'm not angry.” It took more effort than I wanted them to see. Father's shoulders relaxed. Mother stopped frowning. Iris settled back against her chair. None of them asked what had happened at the chapel. I folded my hands beneath the table before they could see them shaking. Father sighed and forced a smile. “Good. That's good. We're one House. We don't hold grudges.” “Of course.” I gave him a small, obedient nod. It was the voice I used with the elders at the midnight rites. Relief passed across their faces. They turned back to Iris. Dinner began. Alongside my bloodwine, the maid served the human delicacies Iris still liked to eat for pleasure: crab, scallops in lemon butter, little dishes of fruit. But it was the blood they kept pressing on her. “You're wasting away,” Father murmured, filling her goblet again. “Drink up. You'll need your strength for the succession trials,” Mother said, dabbing at her eyes. Dax grinned. “And if any of those city-bred leeches give you trouble, I'll rip their throats out.” Iris laughed, her golden hair catching the candlelight. “Please. I can handle them.” They all chuckled. I drank in silence. The warm blood did nothing for the cold inside me. For the first time that evening, Mother looked at me. She hesitated, then reached for the carafe and topped up my goblet. “Have some more. Don't think we don't care about you just because we're looking after Iris. I care about you too.” It sounded rehearsed. A line she'd said so often she no longer had to think about it. I looked at the wine and set down my glass. “No, thank you. I've had enough.” Her expression shifted from surprise to irritation. “What's gotten into you lately?” She was about to say more when Iris clutched at her throat. “Mom. I—something's wrong—” Her voice broke. A harsh gasp scraped out of her, though it wasn't air her body needed. Dark veins began spreading beneath her skin. She lurched backward, knocking over her chair. The room erupted. “Iris!” Mother screamed. “What's happening?” Father shot to his feet so fast the table shook. Dax was already beside her, bending close to catch the scent of her blood. His eyes flared red, every instinct of a House guard awake. “Her blood's turning. Something's wrong!” I felt a hard tightening in my chest. Not fear. Something quieter, twisted by the bitter predictability of it all. In the chaos, no one noticed that I hadn't moved. Vespa stirred at the edge of my thoughts. It's in her blood, Vera. Something she swallowed. Her body is fighting it. Chapter 3 Red welts broke out across Iris's skin, stark against the black web spreading beneath it. “Is this a blood reaction?” Father demanded, bending over her convulsing body. “Why now?” Mother's gaze snapped toward me. The next instant, her palm struck my face hard enough to send me sprawling onto the tiled floor. “Vera! What did you put in her drink? You know how sensitive her blood is!” Pain burst through my skull. For a moment, everything swam. My fangs dropped, and the hunger surged up my throat, demanding that I strike back. I forced it down. Dax stepped toward me, disbelief hardening into accusation. “You've been so quiet. So agreeable. And all this time you were planning to hurt Iris?” He shook his head. “How did I end up with a sister like you?” “Enough!” Father's fist slammed into the table. “Get her to the blood physician. Now!” They blurred past me, Father carrying Iris while Mother and Dax crowded around her, frantic, as if he held the last precious drop of their bloodline in his arms. Then they were gone. I was alone on the floor, my cheek throbbing. “It wasn't me.” The words sounded thin in the empty room. Almost like a lie. They hadn't believed me. They never did. After everything, they still never did. My palms felt wet and hot. When the maid came back, her eyes widened. “Lady Vera. Your hands. They're swelling.” I looked down. Raw red lines ran across my skin. Whatever was in Iris's cleanser was keeping them from healing. “I'm fine.” I brushed past her before she could answer. In my room, I reached for the old leather journal. The first pages were from the winter the blood shipments nearly stopped. Rogue vampires kept breaching our borders. The House's safe rooms were full. Someone had to leave. I volunteered. At the cliffside outpost, beyond the family's blood-call, I learned to patrol, fight, and hold a position until relief arrived. My family came for the winter solstice rites. Once a year. Each visit was shorter than the last. When Ashenveil recovered, I thought there would be room for me again. They gave me a converted storeroom beside the back entrance. I'd returned this time for my binding. My leave wasn't over for another week. I opened my bag. I began packing my things into a battered canvas duffel. I'd taken leave from the outpost for my binding. The thought was almost funny now. I reached for my phone to ask my commander if I could return early. It rang before I could type. Kane. My betrothed. The man everyone insisted I was meant to spend eternity with. The man who was supposed to stand beside me. “What did you do to Iris?” he demanded. No greeting. No attempt at concern. “She's in the infirmary. You poisoned her?” “She had a reaction.” “Don't lie to me. You've always been jealous. How could you do this to your own family?” His words burned through the last of my excuses for him. “I didn't put anything in her drink.” “Vera—” “If you've already decided I did, why are you asking me?” He went silent. I waited. He didn't ask about the binding. Or whether I was all right. We'd argued about Iris dozens of times. He called it concern. I called it flirting. When we went out to eat, he ordered her favorites. When she wanted something, he remembered. What I wanted barely registered. “She's your sister,” he'd say, as if that made all of it acceptable. To my family, I was always the one overreacting. The unstable one. When Iris left for heir training, I'd felt peaceful for the first time in years. Even Vespa had settled. Now the storm was back. “If anything else happens to Iris,” Kane said coldly, “there won't be a binding.” The line went dead. I could picture him hurrying into her room, brushing the hair from her face. Playing the hero for the girl he'd wanted all along. My fangs ached. I let out a short, bitter laugh instead, then called my mentor at the outpost. Later that night, the front door creaked open. My parents came in looking exhausted. Dax followed, his head bowed. My duffel waited by the door. I was ready to leave. From the upstairs landing, I heard their voices. Low. Unguarded. “If only Kane came from a better bloodline,” Mother sighed. “He's so good to Iris.” “She likes him,” Father said. “If I'd known, I never would have promised him Vera.” “Still, Vera is the more suitable match for him. Let Iris pursue her future at court. He can keep looking after her even after he binds himself to Vera.” The words settled inside me, cold and heavy. They knew. They knew how Kane felt about Iris. They simply expected me to marry him anyway. I gripped the banister until the wood pressed into my swollen palms. Then I went downstairs. Mother turned at the sound of my footsteps. “Vera. You're—you haven't left?” My bag stood beside the front door. I picked it up.