the Ring and a Wh

on the shadows that moved silently at the edges of the corridor below. Her slippers barely made a sound against the marbled floor as she paused

him was a man she didn't recognize, cloaked in an impeccably tailored black coat. His gloved hand

s breath

tched with baroque flourishes. The "Blood Drop." She'd heard whispers-tales murmured between servant quarter

s face wasn't fiction. It w

nobles sometimes still did-forearms gripped, not palms-like

anished into a hallway Arielle

rt racing, and nearly

ldn't be here," he said quietly, though there was no accusation in his voi

aid, smoothing he

nted to ask what she'd seen. He didn't. But she kne

n seeming to throb with its own pulse. Who was that man? What did the ring mean? And wh

head librarian a simple question. "Have

ghtly as she set it back on its saucer. "That is a

what

children into obedience. Stories of... genetic rites, bloodlines purified th

Arielle echo

," the woman said. "

uldn't think o

-

at followed, s

he lesser archives, searching through journals, scrapbooks, half-burned

found th

leather, cracked and scorched at the edges. Pages torn. The ink was faded, smudged in places by what looked

ntry

ion. Bloodline trace: Merovingian. Procedure will

ot

the serum makes her an ideal carrier. W

nds tr

Her father's cho

e the

en years ago, a line chilled her more

l bleed for the future of Ver

-

l clutched to her chest. She had always known there were secrets-every palace held them. But

daughter. Sh

knock

n the doorway, rain soakin

oor," he said. In his hand,

ring. The blood-r

he asked, her voic

. "There was no n

card, plain, wit

remembers.

at each othe

ael's face gave nothing away,

her father. Not the Court.

, more to herself than to him: "Then I'll

f Cha