The feast was a trap.
Not in the way I expected—knives in the dark, assassins in the rafters, a blade to the throat in the silence between courses—but in the way only the Fae could manage: beautiful, elegant, dripping with false smiles and poisoned pleasantries. The Grand Hall had been transformed for the occasion, its obsidian pillars wrapped in ivy laced with bioluminescent runes, the long tables carved from blackwood and set with crystal goblets that pulsed faintly with stored magic. Candles floated in midair, casting long, shifting shadows across the faces of the Council members as they laughed, toasted, and exchanged barbed compliments like currency.
I sat at the high table, beside Vex, my spine straight, my expression neutral. I wore crimson again—because it felt like armor—and the bite mark on my neck throbbed beneath the high collar of my gown, a constant reminder of what I’d done, what I’d allowed, what I could no longer deny. He hadn’t touched me since the memory-sharing, hadn’t spoken beyond clipped commands and quiet warnings. But I could feel him. The heat of his thigh against mine beneath the table. The way his fingers occasionally brushed the back of my hand when he reached for his wine. The low hum of the bond between us, steady, insistent, alive.
And I hated it.
Not the bond.
Not him.
But how much I *didn’t* hate it.
Across the table, Mira watched us with a smirk, her fingers tracing the rim of her goblet, her bite mark still raw, still visible. She hadn’t spoken to me since the ritual, hadn’t challenged me, hadn’t tried to provoke. And that worried me more than any open attack ever could. Because Mira didn’t retreat. She waited. She planned. She struck when you least expected it.
And Nyx?
She sat at the head of the Fae delegation, her silver hair coiled like a crown, her pale eyes sharp, calculating. She hadn’t looked at me once. Not since she’d revealed the truth of our bloodline. But I could feel her gaze, like a blade pressed between my shoulders. She was waiting too. For me to slip. For me to break. For me to prove that I wasn’t worthy of the Crown, of the bond, of *him*.
“To peace,” Vex said, raising his goblet, his voice cutting through the noise. “And to unity.”
The Council echoed the toast, glasses clinking, voices rising in false harmony. I lifted mine, the wine dark as blood, swirling with faint sparks of magic. I didn’t drink. Not yet. Not until I was sure.
Vex turned to me, his golden eyes searching mine. “You don’t trust the toast?”
“I don’t trust *her*,” I said, nodding toward Mira.
He exhaled, low, almost a laugh. “She’s not subtle enough for poison.”
“And Nyx?”
His jaw tightened. “She wouldn’t risk it. Not here. Not now. The Council would turn on her.”
“And what if she doesn’t care?” I asked. “What if she wants war?”
He didn’t answer.
Just raised his goblet again. “Drink, Avalanche. For show.”
I hesitated.
Then tipped the glass to my lips.
The wine was rich, velvety, laced with something bitter beneath the sweetness—magic, maybe, or enchantment. But no poison. Not that I could taste. Not yet.
I swallowed.
And for a heartbeat, nothing happened.
Then—
Fire.
It tore through me, sudden and sharp, not in my throat, but in my *veins*, like liquid flame injected straight into my heart. I gasped, dropping the goblet, my hands flying to my chest. The world blurred. The candles swam. The laughter turned to noise, to static, to screaming.
“Avalanche?”
Vex’s voice was distant, muffled, like it was coming from underwater. I tried to answer, but my tongue was heavy, my breath ragged. My sigils flared beneath my skin, crimson light pulsing through the fabric of my gown, but the magic wouldn’t *respond*. It was trapped, burning, useless.
“Poison,” I managed, my voice a whisper. “In the wine.”
He was on his feet in an instant, his chair toppling backward, his presence a storm in the room. “Silence!” he roared, and the hall fell dead quiet. “No one moves. No one speaks. The one who did this will be found.”
I couldn’t see him. Couldn’t focus. My body was collapsing inward, every nerve screaming, every muscle seizing. My vision tunneled. The bond screamed between us, a live wire, a pulse of desperation.
And then—
He was there.
His arms around me, lifting me, cradling me against his chest. His scent—smoke, iron, that dark sweetness—wrapped around me like a lifeline. “Hold on,” he murmured, his voice rough, urgent. “Just hold on.”
I wanted to tell him I couldn’t. Wanted to scream. Wanted to fight. But I was already slipping, falling, drowning.
And then—
Darkness.
I woke to pain.
Not the fire of the poison—though that still burned, low and deep in my gut—but the ache of my body, the stiffness of my limbs, the dryness of my throat. I was in the medical wing again, on the healing slab, the runes along the walls pulsing with a soft, steady light. The air was thick with the scent of herbs and old blood, of magic and something sharper—*him*.
Vex sat beside me, his back to the wall, his head bowed, his fingers laced over his knee. He was still in his feast robes, though the jacket was gone, his chest bare, scars tracing his ribs like old battles. His hair was tousled, his eyes shadowed with exhaustion, but alert. Watching me.
“You’re awake,” he said, his voice low.
“You’re still here,” I said, my voice hoarse.
He didn’t smile. Just reached out, slow, giving me time to stop him.
I didn’t.
His fingers brushed my cheek, then traced down to my neck, over the pulse hammering there. “You stopped breathing,” he said. “For nearly a minute. I thought—” He cut himself off, his jaw tightening. “I thought I’d lost you.”
I swallowed. “But you didn’t.”
“No,” he said. “Because I gave you my blood.”
I froze.
“Mouth to mouth,” he said, his voice rough. “To keep your heart beating. To slow the poison. It bought us time. The healer stabilized you, but you needed more. You needed *me*.”
My breath caught.
“I didn’t ask,” he said, his thumb pressing against my lower lip. “I didn’t wait. I just did it. Because if I’d hesitated, you’d be dead.”
I stared at him.
And then—
It hit me.
The memory.
Not just the fire, not just the pain, but the *taste*.
His blood.
Thick. Metallic. *Alive*.
And the way it had flooded me—warm, powerful, *familiar*—like it had always belonged there.
Like it had always been mine.
“You saved me,” I said, my voice breaking.
“I had to,” he said. “Because if I lost you—” he looked at me, really looked “—I’d have nothing left.”
My breath hitched.
And then—
I reached up, my fingers trembling, and cupped his face. His skin was cool, his stubble rough against my palm. His golden eyes burned into mine, red bleeding into them, his fangs pressing against his lip.
“You didn’t have to,” I whispered. “You could have let me die. You could have used it—my death—as proof that I was a threat. That I wasn’t worthy. That the bond was a mistake.”
“And what would that have proven?” he asked, his voice low. “That I’m the monster they believe me to be? That I’d sacrifice the one person who’s ever made me believe I’m not?”
Tears burned in my eyes.
“You could have,” I said. “And no one would have blamed you.”
“But *I* would have,” he said. “And that’s the only judgment that matters.”
I didn’t speak.
Just pulled him down.
And kissed him.
Not desperate. Not furious. Not hungry.
Soft.
Slow.
Aching.
My lips moved over his, gentle, reverent, my fingers still cupping his face, my body aching for more. He groaned into my mouth, his hands rising to my waist, pulling me closer, his body warm, *alive*, his breath hot against my skin. And when he kissed me back—deep, trembling, *real*—I didn’t pull away.
I deepened it.
My tongue tangling with his, my body pressing against his, every inch of me screaming for more. He growled, low in his throat, his fangs grazing my lip, his hands sliding up my back, tangling in my hair. The bond *screamed* between us, a pulse of power, a transfer of something deeper than flesh.
And then—
A knock.
At the door.
We broke apart, breathing hard, our foreheads pressed together, our bodies still tangled. Vex didn’t move. Just called, “Enter.”
The door opened.
Kaelen stepped inside, his dark eyes scanning the room, lingering on the way Vex’s hands still rested on my hips, on the way my fingers were still buried in his hair. He didn’t flinch. Just bowed his head. “My king. The Council demands answers. They’re calling for an investigation. They believe the poison was meant for *you*.”
Vex exhaled. “And what do *you* believe?”
“I believe it was meant for her,” Kaelen said, stepping closer. “Because she’s the threat. Not you. Not the bond. *Her*. The one who could claim the Crown. The one who could break the Fae’s hold on the Concord.”
I swallowed. “And who would benefit from that?”
“Nyx,” Kaelen said. “Or Mira. Or both.”
Vex’s jaw tightened. “Then we find out. Quietly. No Council. No politics. Just the truth.”
Kaelen nodded. “I’ll handle it.”
“And Mira?” I asked.
“She’s already denying involvement,” Kaelen said. “Claims she was drugged too. That she barely made it through the toast.”
“Liar,” Vex said, his voice a growl. “She’s too proud to admit weakness. Too vain to let anyone see her fall.”
“Then why would she?” I asked. “Why risk it? She knows you’d tear the Spire apart to find the one who hurt me.”
“Because she’s desperate,” Kaelen said. “Because she sees you as a threat. Because she knows that if you live, if the bond holds, if the Crown recognizes you—” he looked at me “—she’s finished.”
Silence.
And then—
Vex turned to me, his golden eyes searching mine. “You could leave,” he said. “Go into hiding. Let me handle this. Let me protect you.”
“And do what?” I asked. “Wait in the shadows while you fight my battles? While you risk your life for me? While you *die* for me?”
“It’s my duty,” he said.
“And what about *mine*?” I asked, my voice low. “What about my duty to *you*? To the truth? To the bond?”
He didn’t answer.
Just looked at me—really looked—and for the first time, I saw it.
Fear.
Not of the poison.
Not of the Council.
Of *me*.
“I’m not going anywhere,” I said, my voice firm. “Not until this is over. Not until we know the truth. Not until *she* pays.”
He exhaled, slow, then nodded. “Then we do this together.”
“Together,” I agreed.
Kaelen stepped back. “I’ll begin the investigation. Quietly. But be ready. Whoever did this won’t stop. Not until you’re dead.”
He left, the door clicking shut behind him.
The silence returned.
And then—
Vex leaned in, pressing his forehead to mine, his breath mingling with mine. “You’re not just my consort,” he murmured. “You’re my equal. My partner. My *reckoning*.”
Tears burned in my eyes.
And before I could stop myself—
I kissed him.
Hard. Deep. *Furious*.
A kiss meant to silence the world.
And he—
He kissed me back.
Because the truth?
It wasn’t just the bond.
It wasn’t just the magic.
It was *me*.
I wanted him.
And if I was going to survive this—
Then I had to stop lying.
To myself.
And to him.
My hands fisted in his hair, yanking him closer, my tongue tangling with his, my body pressing against his, every inch of me screaming for more.
And when he finally pulled back, breathing hard, his eyes still red, his fangs bared, he didn’t let me go.
Just held me there, in the dim light of the medical wing, in the quiet after the storm—
And whispered—
“The bond isn’t fake, Avalanche. It’s been waiting for you.”
And I—
I believed him.
Because the truth?
It wasn’t just in the past.
It wasn’t just in the future.
It was in the blood on his lips.
In the mark on my neck.
In the way my heart still *burned*—not for vengeance.
But for *him*.
And as the runes dimmed, as the Crown pulsed softly in its vault, as the bond hummed between us like a live wire, I knew one thing.
I wasn’t just here to kill him.
I was here to *live*.
And maybe—just maybe—I didn’t have to do it alone.
Maybe I could let him in.
Just a little.
Just enough to survive.
And as his mouth moved to my neck, his fangs grazing my skin, I didn’t pull away.
I arched into him.
And I whispered the words I never thought I’d say.
“Don’t stop.”