Chapter 3

Kenna POV:

The silence inside the Wellspring hall felt heavier than ten-thousand-meter trench pressure. Dozens of terrified eyes dropped away from our joined hands as Atticus pulled me straight to the central baptismal pool. Even the High Tide Cleric—an arrogant elder who usually looked down his nose at second-tier lords—was trembling slightly, his chin tucked low.

"Open the Blood-Oath matrix," Atticus ordered, his tone clipped like a battlefield command.

The cleric swallowed hard, asking zero questions before striking his staff against the floor to ignite the glowing blue runes beneath the spring.

I frowned, leaning closer to Atticus's shoulder. "Are you sure you are just a border officer who got stood up?"

Atticus glanced down at me, a teasing glint softening his gray-blue eyes. "I spend all year slaughtering abyssal wretches on the Coral Verge. The stench of blood on my armor scares city nobles. It is normal."

The excuse barely held water, but before I could press him, the cleric swam forward holding a velvet tray with a plain, unjeweled silver band.

"This is a temporary Warlord-tier secondary ring," the cleric stammered, keeping his gaze fixed on the floor. "Please... offer your blood."

Without a word, Atticus sliced his index finger with his thumbnail. A drop of dense, ice-blue blood sank into the spring, dyeing the surrounding water a fierce azure. I bit the tip of my own finger and let a drop of clear, aurora-tinted blood fall. Drawn by the ancient magic of the Wellspring, our two drops spiraled together and fused into one.

The instant our blood merged, the plain silver band flared with blinding silver-blue light, shooting out of the tray to slide onto my right ring finger. Intricate engravings of an Aurora Abyssal Wyrm surfaced like living fire across the metal—a permanent Bloodmark that no thief could ever forge or steal.

Through the ring, a vast, carefully restrained wave of warm vitality surged into my meridians. It washed away the hollow, tearing ache left by Dominic's severed Remnant, so soothing that a soft breath nearly slipped past my lips.

"Now, you are mine," Atticus murmured, his rough thumb rubbing slowly over the newly bound ring on my finger.

The friction of his calloused skin sent a sharp tingle straight up my arm. I tried to tug my hand back, only for his fingers to tighten briefly around mine.

"It is a three-month contract, Lord Atticus," I reminded him, keeping my voice steady. "Do not get too deep into character."

"Of course," he said, releasing my hand though the dark amusement never left his eyes. "Come on. Let us celebrate our wedding night."

Before we could turn toward the exit, a chaotic rush of water burst through the main doors. My biological father, Edward Reid—the Regent Clan Lord of House Reid—stormed in with four armed family guards.

"Kenna! You shameless wretch!" Edward pointed a shaking finger at my face, his gills flaring red with fury. "Dominic merely delayed the rite to care for your sister, and you dared break the engagement in public! Where did you throw House Reid's face?"

I looked at the man who had ignored me ever since my mother died, feeling nothing but cold disgust. "Didn't you and your fake stepdaughter throw away House Reid's face years ago?"

"You insolent beast!" Edward roared, raising his hand to slap me as his Warlord-rank Tide Spirit whipped the water into a violent vortex.

I did not flinch, because half a second before the current reached my cheek, Atticus stepped directly in front of me.

He did not even raise a hand. He simply cast a cold glance at Edward—and an invisible mountain of Sovereign pressure slammed down on the hall.

Edward's raised arm froze mid-swing. His face turned corpse-white as if an unseen giant fist had crushed his windpipe, his gill slits spasming wildly as he gasped for oxygen in the suddenly suffocating water.

"Lord Reid," Atticus said, his voice dropping the temperature of the hall to freezing. "Raising a hand against my wife right in front of me—do you think House Reid has lived too comfortably in the Inner Atolls?"

Edward stared in horror at the dull bronze ring on Atticus's left hand, clearly failing to recognize his identity while his body shook with primal terror. "Who... who the hell are you? A lowly wild officer dares meddle in House Reid's family affairs!"

Atticus didn't bother answering. He released a faint infrasonic hum from his chest. Instantly, the four guards behind Edward clutched their bleeding ears with a muffled groan, their heads forced down as their trembling necks tilted to bare their gill slits in total submission.

Watching Edward choke in place, I tugged lightly on Atticus's dark sleeve. "Let us go. Do not let him dirty the Wellspring's water."

Atticus withdrew his pressure at once, slipping an arm around my waist to guide me out of the hall while Edward remained frozen behind us, gasping for breath with venomous hatred burning in his eyes.