“Just…be sure to please your husband,” she says, clearly giving up.

“I will, Mama,” I reassure her. “Thank you for the advice.”

She gives me a dazzling smile. As if she is truly relieved. I have no idea why she has felt this sudden last-minute urge to try to impart wisdom. It is the morning of my wedding day. But I have been engaged for seven years. And she has known I was a vessel from the moment I was born. She has had twenty-one years to prepare me. Three more years than parents normally are granted.

The familiar flood of shame tries to rise up within me, but I shove it down sternly. My fiancé postponed our wedding for as long as he could. He sprouted nonsense about wanting me to have an education. But it is fine. Everyone knows it for the rejection that it is, but I’m still going to hold my head up high. It is the only thing I can do.

“Well, I will go check the car is ready,” my mother says.

She pats my arm awkwardly, sniffs softly, and leaves. I stare at the door long after it closes after her. In movies, parents hug their children. Even their adult ones. I guess that is just another thing movies make up for storytelling purposes.

I sigh heavily. It is going to be strange not living with my mother. I cannot tell if I am happy or sad about it.

Suddenly, the door to my drawing room opens again. I’m stepping backwards before my conscious mind has realized who it is. It’s my father. Looking formidable in his formal suit.

I hastily drop my gaze. “Good morning, my lord father.”

My heart is racing. I clench my hands together so he cannot see them trembling.

“Good morning,” he replies gruffly. “I trust you are ready to depart?”

“Yes, my lord father.”

The carriage clock on the mantelpiece ticks loudly. There is no other sound. I can’t even hear my father breathing, but I can see the tip of his perfectly polished black shoes, so I know he is still here.

“Finally your magic will be freed,” he says.

“Yes, my lord father.”

Is there something else I am supposed to say? I’m assuming it is a rhetorical statement, because it is a blatantly obvious one. The entire purpose of marriage between a mage and a vessel is for the releasing of the vessel’s magic. For the mage’s use.

I force down a swallow. I’m not thinking about that. Not now. Not ever. My wedding night is looming like an ominous storm on the horizon. Dark and threatening. But that’s tonight. There is a whole wedding day to get through before I need to face that horror.

“It is imperative that your marriage is stable and unremarkable.”

Another rhetorical statement. This time alluding to my other, secret duty.

“Understood, my lord father.”

Of course I’m going to behave myself. Well, as best I can. I’ve never wanted anything more than to be as perfect a vessel as my mother is. I try my hardest, I really do. However, I still disappoint people. My fiancé most of all. To the extent that he does not even want me.

My bottom lip hurts as I bite it. The sharp stinging pain focuses my mind and prevents me from spiraling into a pit of self-pity.

“Very good.”

My father leaves. Without even an awkward pat on the arm. The door clicks shut quietly. I am alone. Time to take a deep breath and try to calm my heart that is beating far too fast.

I probably should take one last look around my rooms and make sure the servants haven’t forgotten anything. Though, I sincerely doubt it. My mother runs a tight ship. Always has. Our staff are one hundred percent proficient. But I can allow myself one last walk around for sentimental reasons.

It is strange to see my rooms devoid of all my belongings. There is nothing here but the furniture that existed long before I was born and that will outlast me by generations. The walls were last decorated a hundred years ago and will not be touched for the foreseeable future. Now all my stuff has gone, there is no trace of me left. It is as if I was never here.

An entire lifetime and there is no mark of me on my ancestral home. Nothing. Not one single sign.

I sigh deeply. I’m being melodramatic. Perhaps if I had not been born a vessel, and had left home to go to boarding school and then university, I would not be feeling so emotional. But as it is, I swear it is strange to spend your entire life in one place, and then have to leave it forever. What I am feeling can’t be odd? Can it?

My wrist watch buzzes, reminding me of the time. It’s time to go. The moment is finally here. I’m leaving my childhood home for my husband’s.

I hurry outside. My parents are already in the car. Philip opens the door for me. I nod my thanks at him and slide in next to my mother.

As soon as my butt touches the leather seat, the driver pulls away smoothly. The engine purrs as we glide down the sweeping driveway.

My neck is twitching. It is all but itching with a desire to turn around and take one last look at my home, but mother and father are right here and they will see. So I don’t. I keep my gaze fixed firmly ahead. To the future, not the past.

It’s my wedding day. First day of the rest of my life.

Chapter two

Lucien

“Do you, Lucien Alexander James Mallory, take Count Felford, Andrew George William Colville, to be your lord and master? Do you solemnly vow to honor and obey his every word?”

The words ring out clearly in the small chapel. My knees hurt. This flagstone floor is unyielding and cold.

“I do,” I say, and I do not know how I get the words out.

“Do you, Count Felford, solemnly swear to take this vessel as your own and provide for his needs?”

“I do.” Count Felford’s voice is loud and clear.

He places his hand on the top of my head and I look up at him as I am supposed to. As usual, his stunning good looks make my heart flutter, and the disdain in his eyes twists my guts.

He still doesn’t like me. Seven long years of engagement, and I have tried everything. I have been the best possible vessel I could be. I even helped him with his latest hairbrained scheme, and it has all been for nothing.

I would want any husband my parents chose to like me. People are far kinder to those they are fond of. But I especially wanted Count Felford to like me, and I don’t know why.

But it clearly isn’t meant to be. Added to whatever flaws he sees in me, he doesn’t like that I was chosen for him when he was sixteen, and there is not a thing I can do about that.

He hates me. He doesn’t want me. He resents me. And he doesn’t even know any of my secrets. How much worse will things be if he finds out?

“Blessed Be,” chants the priest.

“Blessed Be,” answers the congregation.

I swallow. It is done. I am bound to Count Felford. I am his property to do with as he chooses. I belong to a man who sneers in disgust every time he sees me.

I can look away now, but I don’t. I’m caught in his dark gaze, like a rabbit in headlights. Or a mouse before a snake.

In a few short hours, this man is going to take me upstairs. He is going to take my body. Take my magic.