The Blood Queen Who Walked Away

“Don’t worry. I’m not misunderstanding anything.”

My voice was calm when I told Ethan to continue with the adoption proceedings and that I would wait in the car.

Relief visibly washed over him, and he even allowed himself a lighter smile as he told me to wait obediently and promised he would return shortly.

I turned toward the black town car parked beneath the night sky. As I walked, I passed attendants from my former Coven and servants of the Nightfall Dominion. They did not bother to lower their voices. Their glances lingered on me with something dangerously close to pity.

Someone murmured that I was truly pathetic, that I had no idea what was happening around me. Another remarked that the Lord visited the orphanage almost daily to accompany Ella, and that rumors claimed they had already secured a legitimate Blood Covenant registration and completed the Crimson Bond Rite. Meanwhile, I—the publicly acknowledged Blood Queen—appeared to be nothing more than an inconvenient afterthought.

I did not slow my steps. My fingers trembled as I sent a message to my father, whom I had not contacted in years, telling him simply that I wished to come home.

Not long after I returned to the estate, his call came through.

Five years had passed since I last saw him. The once stern and unyielding face of the Royal Court patriarch was now etched with concern. His first question was whether Ethan had mistreated me. My throat tightened, and despite my resolve, tears slipped free as I admitted that I missed him.

The memory of our last argument resurfaced vividly. Five years ago, he had shouted for me to leave the Court and declared that he would consider himself fatherless rather than watch me throw away my lineage. Now that same man bristled at the thought that I might have been wronged.

He sighed heavily and told me that no matter what had happened, the Royal Court would always be my home. He would send someone for me the next day.

After the call ended, I did not sleep. Guilt and regret tangled inside me, regret for severing my blood ties and shame for mistaking defiance for love.

The following evening, when I descended the grand staircase, I found Ethan and Ella seated at the long dining table with Mia between them.

The table was set with freshly harvested blood crystals and goblets filled with warmed crimson elixir. The dark liquid shimmered faintly in crystal glass, and the air carried the metallic sweetness of blood blended with spiced herbs. They sat close together, their silhouettes nearly touching, a portrait of domestic harmony. I stood at the top of the stairs and felt like an intruder disrupting a scene that had already decided its roles.

Ethan rose immediately and began explaining that Mia had only just moved into the estate and was still adjusting, and that Ella was merely staying temporarily to ease the transition.

Mia looked at me warily before declaring that she needed both her father and mother beside her every night. She reached for Ethan’s hand and then for Ella’s, pressing them together as though sealing a truth.

Ella offered me an apologetic smile and said gently that children often required time to grow accustomed to new environments.

Ethan’s complexion paled slightly. His lips parted as if to contradict her, but no words followed.

I had known, in theory, what their arrangement was. Yet seeing the three of them framed together still twisted something raw inside me.

I steadied myself and replied evenly that Mia indeed needed familiar comfort in an unfamiliar home and encouraged them to continue their meal.

I took my seat at the table.

Ella leaned forward with practiced attentiveness and placed a crystal goblet before me. She said she had prepared it personally and added my favorite night-bloom herb, mentioning that Ethan had told her of my preference and insisting that I drink every drop.

I lifted the glass.

The scent reached me instantly, and the warmth drained from my chest.

This was not night-bloom herb. The sharp undercurrent belonged to silver-moon extract, It wasn’t my favorite herb.

It was something that could make my blood turn against me.

I set the goblet down with deliberate care and asked whether she was unaware that silver-moon extract could cause severe reactions in those whose bloodline fusion rites had failed.

Tears pooled in Ella’s eyes almost instantly. She insisted that if I disliked it, I need only say so instead of falsely accusing her.

Ethan frowned and reproached me, saying Ella had risen early to prepare the elixir and would never harm me, and that I should not create needless drama.

As I watched him instinctively position himself at her side, I realized something with devastating clarity.

In this manor, I was not the queen.

I was the outsider.

I had thought I was his chosen queen.

I was merely the placeholder.