The temple knights didn't rush.
They didn't need to.
They stood in the doorway like an unavoidable verdict, blades angled toward the floor, faces calm with that special kind of cruelty that comes from believing you're righteous.
The priest's gaze stayed fixed on my bleeding hand. "A blood contract," he said softly, almost pleased. "How convenient. You confess with your own vein."
My stomach lurched.
"No," I said. "It's a-"
Kael spoke over me. "It's none of your business."
The priest's smile tightened. "Everything involving demons is the church's business, Duke Rivenhart
Kael's fingers tightened on my wrist, not hurting, just anchoring. "She isn't yours."
The priest lifted his ringed hand. The ring was polished silver with a tiny sunburst etched into it-church authority.
"Lady Vale has been accused," he said. "You interfere with purification at your peril."
Kael's eyes were flat. "You want peril? Touch her."
For a heartbeat, nothing moved.
Then one knight shifted his grip, just a fraction.
Kael moved.
I didn't even see his hand reach his sword. One blink and steel flashed. The antechamber mirror caught a streak of black and silver.
The knight's blade clattered to the floor.
Not dropped.
Knocked from numb fingers.
Kael had struck the knight's wrist so precisely it looked effortless.
The knight hissed in pain, face twisting.
Kael didn't advance. He didn't need to.
He held the sword at a lazy angle, like it weighed nothing, and looked at the priest.
"You came into a noble chamber with weapons drawn," Kael said. "You will leave with less."
The priest's throat bobbed. He was brave enough to threaten me. Not brave enough to threaten him.
Behind the priest, palace guards appeared in the corridor-imperial silver. They hesitated, caught between church and duke.
Of course they hesitated.
That was the whole point of using the church. It muddied authority until no one knew who they wereallowed to obey.
I felt Kael's grip shift on my wrist. A silent warning: Stay behind me.
I should've been comforted.
Instead, I was angry.
Because this was still happening around me. Because I was still the object being fought over like property.
I took a step to Kael's side, refusing to hide.
The priest's eyes sharpened. "Stubbornness. A common symptom."
I lifted my bleeding hand. "Then examine it properly. If I made a pact, you should be able to sense it. Unless you're afraid you won't find anything."
A dangerous hush.
The priest's nostrils flared. "We do not perform examinations in front of-"
"In front of witnesses?" I finished. "Yes. That would be inconvenient."
Kael's eyes slid to me, something like approval flickering and vanishing.
The priest recovered quickly, lifting his chin. "Duke Rivenhart, if you insist on keeping her, then bring her to the temple before dawn. The High Inquisitor will conduct a full rite."
Before dawn.
In my last life, "before dawn" was when screams disappeared.
I forced my voice steady. "I won't go anywhere without an imperial warrant."
The priest's smile returned. "How fortunate. His Highness has requested the emperor's attention already."
My blood ran colder.
The emperor.
Adrian was moving fast.
Kael's face didn't change, but the air around him turned sharper. "Get out."
The priest's gaze darted to Kael's sword, then to the palace guards gathering behind him.
He must've decided he'd pushed as far as he could without dying.
"Dawn," he repeated softly. "Or you will be named an accomplice."
Then he backed away, temple knights following, the injured one clutching his wrist.
The door shut.
Silence returned, thinner now.
I realized my blood had dripped onto the contract.
A dark dot spreading into the paper fibers.
Kael glanced down at it.
Then he took my bleeding hand and pressed it firmly against the black wax seal.
Pain bit as the cut reopened, but he didn't flinch.
The wax warmed under my skin, like it recognized the blood.
My breath caught.
Kael's voice was low. "Done."
I yanked my hand back, shaking. "Do you always force people into vows with knives?"
His gaze lifted. "Do you always wait until you're cornered to grow teeth?"
I swallowed my anger. He wasn't wrong. And rage wouldn't keep me alive tonight.
"Take me out of here," I said. "Before Adrian finds a way to put chains on me again."
Kael's eyes held mine. "You will come to my estate."
It wasn't a suggestion.
I forced myself to nod. "Fine."
He sheathed his sword and took a strip of cloth from his pocket-black, clean. Without asking, he wrapped it around my cut.
His fingers brushed my palm, quick and efficient.
And my stupid body reacted anyway.
Heat licked up my wrist.
I hated it.
I hated that the man who killed me could make my pulse stumble.
Kael stepped back as if distance was his default state.
"You'll speak when I tell you. You'll smile when I tell you. You won't wander."
"I'm not your prisoner," I said.
Kael's gaze slid over me. "Not yet."
The words hit like a slap.
I opened my mouth-
He cut in. "If you want to live, you will stop pretending pride is protection. It isn't. Planning is."
I swallowed the retort.
Because planning was the only reason I was standing here at all.
Kael opened the door.
His guards were already waiting, black-clad and silent. One of them a woman with hair braided tight and eyes like flint-looked me up and down.
Judgment. Not curiosity.
Kael spoke to her. "Mara. Escort Lady Vale. Anyone touches her, break their hands."
Mara's eyes flicked to my stained dress, then to my bandaged palm. "Understood."
Kael's gaze returned to me. "Walk."
We moved through service corridors to avoid the ballroom crowd, but gossip still found cracks to seep through.
Servants bowed too deeply. Some crossed themselves as I passed.
I caught fragments of whispers.
"-demon-"
"-wine-"
"-Black Duke claimed her-"
"-poor Liora-"
My teeth clenched.
Poor Liora.
In my last life, people said it all the way to my grave.
Outside, night air slapped my face, cold and cleansing. Kael's carriage waited-black lacquer, no crest displayed, as if even the symbol of his house didn't need to be shown.
Mara helped me in without softness.
The carriage door shut.
I expected Kael to enter after me.
He didn't.
For one stunned second, I thought he was leaving me alone.
Then the opposite door opened and Kael stepped in, filling the narrow space with steel and winter.
He sat across from me.
Not beside.
Distance again.
The carriage jolted forward.
I braced myself, then forced my mind to work.
Tonight had given me three urgent problems:
One: Adrian had used the church. That meant he wanted me destroyed publicly, not merely discarded.
Two: the accusation came too early. That meant he was improvising-or someone else had pushed him.
Three: Kael had a contract ready.
That meant he'd wanted a pawn.
Or he'd known I'd run to him.
I studied Kael's face. "Why were you at the ball?"
His eyes didn't shift. "To observe."
"Observe what?"
He blinked once, slow. "You ask too many questions for someone newly rescued."
"I wasn't rescued," I said. "I bargained."
A faint pause.
Kael's gaze met mine. "Then start paying your side."
My throat tightened. "Fine. Here's what I know: the demon pact accusation is a fabrication. It will rely on planted evidence, probably a sigil or a letter, 'found' in my room. The church will claim the ink reacts to my blood."
Kael's eyes narrowed slightly. "How do you know?"
I held his gaze. "Because it happened before."
The words slipped out too easily.
Silence sharpened.
Kael leaned forward a fraction, shadows cutting across his cheekbones. "Before."
I forced myself to breathe. "I've seen the pattern.
Adrian doesn't invent. He repeats what works."
Kael didn't look convinced.
But he didn't call me a liar either.
He looked at my bandaged hand instead. "If you're right, they'll try to 'find' it before dawn."
"Yes," I said.
Kael's voice was cool. "Then we remove the evidence before it appears."
My pulse jumped. "How?"
Kael's gaze lifted. "You'll tell me who has access to your rooms."
I didn't need to think. In my last life, it had been my own maid who "discovered" the letter.
My maid, gifted by my stepmother.
My maid, who cried while betraying me.
"Her name is Elsi," I said. "She came with my stepmother. She has a key."
Kael nodded once, like it confirmed something he'd already suspected. "Good."
"Good?" My voice cracked. "She's going to destroy me."
Kael's eyes were cold. "Not if she's caught first."
The carriage slowed.
Kael reached to the side, opened a small compartment, and pulled out a second document-thinner, marked with imperial script.
He tossed it onto the seat beside me.
A writ of temporary protection, signed by someone high enough to make palace guards hesitate.
Not the emperor.
Someone else.
My stomach tightened. "Who signed this?"
Kael's voice was flat. "Someone who dislikes Adrian."
My fingers hovered over the signature.
I couldn't read it clearly in the dim carriage lantern.
But the flourish looked familiar in the worst way.
In my last life, the man who oversaw my execution signed with a flourish like that.
My skin prickled. "Kael... who is helping you?"
He didn't answer.
The carriage stopped.
Mara opened the door.
Rivenhart Estate rose before me-black stone, iron gates, lanterns that burned like pale moons.
A fortress, not a home.
Kael stepped out first and held a hand out.
Not gentle.
Still a command.
I took it.
As my foot hit the stone path, a servant rushed forward, pale-faced.
"My Lord," the servant stammered, "we received a message from House Vale. Urgent."
My heart seized. "From my father?"
The servant looked at me, then back at Kael. "Yes, my lady. It says-your rooms were searched tonight."
My vision went sharp. "Searched by whom?"
The servant swallowed. "By temple knights."
Kael's gaze snapped to me, ice-hard. "Too late."
My stomach dropped.
Because if they'd already searched my rooms, then they'd already "found" something.
And the only question left was what they planned to call proof.
The servant continued, voice shaking. "They left behind... a parchment. Marked with a sigil."
My blood turned to cold water.
Kael's hand closed around my wrist again, bruising through the bandage.
"Show me," he said.
The servant reached into his sleeve and pulled out folded paper.
The moment I saw the ink-black, glossy, still faintly wet-I knew.
A half-drawn demon circle.
The exact one I'd been condemned for in my last life.
And beneath it, in neat script, a single line:
SERAPHINA VALE ACCEPTS THE DARK.
My breath broke.
Because the ink was fresh.
Meaning someone had planted it tonight.
Meaning the trap wasn't coming.
It was already snapped shut.