Chapter 37 Marienne
Marienne
It always begins with a knock.
Though, this isn’t exactly a knock. It’s a rap. Sharp. Unapologetic. The kind of sound that doesn’t ask for permission—only expects compliance.
I’m still in my robe, the children’s breakfast only half-laid on the table. Jam jars uncapped. Vess humming in her chair. Liri clinging to Margot’s skirts, sleepy and soft. The light through the kitchen windows is warm and pink-gold, the kind of morning that feels like it could be soft forever.
Until the knock.
Tamsin’s already at the door. She stiffens. I see it in the angle of her shoulders. The way her hand hovers, not over her sword, but as if she wishes she were allowed to reach for it.
When she opens it, the wind sweeps in first. Cold. Clean. Curling through the threshold like it owns the space.
Then… the officials.
Two of them. Court envoy and notary, both in Eldermire silver. Pressed collars. Unreadable faces. The notary already has a scroll in hand.
My stomach drops.
I don’t move. My breath forgets what to do.
Siven’s voice breaks the silence. “Guests?”
The envoy inclines their head. Polite. Icy.
“Baroness Marienne Solmere?”
It takes too long for my mouth to shape the word.
“Yes,” I say.
But my voice doesn’t sound like mine. And in my chest, something old and frightened begins to curl tightly.
“We regret the early hour. We come bearing a formal order from the Eldermire Inner Court, under the seal of Lord Halveric and the Elder Tribunal.”
They open the scroll.
“Effective immediately,” they begin, reading with the smooth cadence of someone who’s recited this to themselves already, who has practiced, “the guardianship and provisional custody granted to Baroness Marienne Solmere concerning the six minor vampires formerly of the Garden of Selene is hereby revoked.”
Siven makes a small sound. A squeak, barely louder than a breath.
The envoy continues. “This decision is based on findings of instability, cultural incompatibility, and potential endangerment to the children’s long-term wellbeing. Protective reassignment is deemed necessary.”
I shake my head. “No. You can’t—”
Margot steps in front of Liri, protective.
Tamsin is frozen. Or perhaps fighting to remain still. Her jaw is locked so tight I hear her teeth creak.
The envoy lays the paper down on the hall table. “The children will be escorted to a neutral estate under court supervision pending reassignment to vetted households.”
My mouth opens, but no words come.
It’s every nightmare I’ve ever had given voice—the fear that’s lived behind every smile, every late-night reassurance to myself that we were safe.
The floor tilts. The air thins.
This is how it happens, then... Not with scandal or bloodshed, but with parchment and politeness.
“No,” Callen whispers.
Imara is quiet. Too quiet. Her hands are balled into fists at her sides.
I move forward, desperate to sound reasonable. “Surely there’s been a mistake. You’ve seen them at the ball. They were—”
“Incidents of aggression were reported,” the notary supplies. “Public disruption. Concerns raised by multiple witnesses. This is not a reflection of personal effort, Baroness. Merely circumstance.”
Merely.
“I don’t want to go,” Yla cries.
“I’m not going,” Siven snaps, fangs peeking through.
Tamsin’s voice is low and dangerous as she says to the envoy, “This is a cruelty.”
“It’s a decision,” the envoy replies.
I feel it then. The rupture. Like something in my chest has split. Like all the seams I’ve stitched and restitched have finally given way.
“They are my family,” I say.
No one responds.
“I’ve given them everything. I’ve—” My voice breaks. I can’t seem to find it again.
I know I should stand straighter. Breathe. Be the calm they need. The baroness who never bends. The woman who makes even despair look deliberate.
But I can feel myself fracturing, right there in the hall. All that composure I’ve practiced—crumbling under the weight of this quiet cruelty.
Behind me, Liri begins to cry. A small, gasping sound. She clutches at Margot’s skirts like a doll about to be taken.
Margot’s voice is shaking with anger. “You want to take them now? No bags, no notice?”
“They’ll be provided for,” the envoy replies. “It is the judgment of the Court that emotional attachment cannot override long-term suitability.”
Long-term suitability.
Like love is a threat.
Imara speaks, finally. “You’re wrong,” she says. Steady. Sharp. “She’s the only one who never hurt us.”
Yla sobs, full-bodied.
Tamsin puts herself between the children and the envoy. “You’ll have to go through me.”
The notary shifts nervously. “This is not a physical removal.”
“Then leave,” Tamsin growls. “Come back with guards and swords, if that’s what you need.”
The envoy does not flinch. They simply lower their gaze to me.
Everyone watches me. The children. Tamsin. Margot. The silence is thunderous.
I nod. Just once. Because to refuse here—to make them watch this turn violent—would be a second cruelty.
“Go pack your things,” I whisper.
They stare at me, stunned.
“Socks, not boots. Just for a little while.” My voice is thin. I smile, and it feels like death. “We’ll see each other soon.”
Imara moves first—silent, pale. She pulls Liri into her arms, shields her face in her shoulder.
Margot lifts Vess without a word. The little one’s arms wrap around her neck like rope.
They move like ghosts. Small, obedient shadows drifting through the hall.
The envoy folds the decree. “Thank you for your cooperation.”
As if I had a choice.
As if I hadn’t just handed over my heart, piece by piece.
I don’t remember when I started crying. Just that I am. Quietly. I wipe my cheeks before the children come back.
When the carriage finally rolls away, all six of them inside, I stand on the threshold and watch it shrink into the distance.
Then I keep watching, long after it’s gone. As if maybe, if I don’t look away, they won’t disappear completely.
Eventually, I close the door, and Bloomhill seals around me like a tomb.
The manor is suddenly, devastatingly silent.
Margot disappears into the kitchen. Tamsin does not speak.
I sit on the bottom stairs and stare at the letter in my hands.
Protective reassignment, it says…
As though I were the danger.
As though love were not the only thing I had left to give.