The silence after the council chamber empties is heavier than stone.
It presses down on me, thick and suffocating, like the weight of the Undercourt’s black stone ceiling. The torches gutter, casting long, wavering shadows across the cracked marble floor. The bond hums beneath my skin—low, steady, a second heartbeat that syncs with his. I can feel Kaelen beside me, close, his presence a wall of cold, controlled power. But something’s changed.
He flinched.
When I slapped him.
Not from pain. Not from rage.
From hurt.
And worse—he let me see it.
I press my fingers to my sternum, as if I can hold the truth down by force. But it’s already there, burning in my veins, written in the blood that runs through me. I came here to destroy the Oath of Crimson Fealty. To avenge my mother. To tear down the system that used her, that killed her, that erased her from history.
But I didn’t know I’d have to destroy myself to do it.
The book said my magic would die with the Oath. That the destruction of the pact required the annihilation of the bloodline’s magic. I would survive—but I would no longer be a witch.
But Kaelen said otherwise.
When he bit me in the healer’s ward, when his fangs pierced my skin and the bond exploded into fire and vision and us, he said it wasn’t feeding.
It was healing.
And when I woke, my magic was stronger. Deeper. Awake.
So which is the truth?
Is the Oath truly broken?
Or is it just… sleeping?
And if it is, then what happens when it wakes?
“You’re thinking too loud,” Kaelen says, voice rough.
I don’t look at him. My hand drops to my side. “You didn’t have to claim me.”
“Yes, I did.”
“You could have let them vote. Let them decide.”
“And if they voted to remove you?”
“Then I’d have fought.”
“And died.”
“Better than being your prisoner.”
He turns to me. His eyes—black, endless—burn into mine. “You’re not my prisoner.”
“Then what am I?”
“Mine.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the only one you’ll get.”
I shake my head. “You think this changes anything? You think a public claim makes us allies? You think I’ll just submit because you stood in front of me like some kind of protector?”
“No.” He steps closer. The bond flares—hot, sudden. A jolt of heat slams through me. “I think you’ll fight. I think you’ll rage. I think you’ll try to destroy me every chance you get.”
“And you’re still smiling.”
“Because I know the truth.” He leans in, his breath cold on my skin. “You’re not fighting me, Blair. You’re fighting yourself.”
I don’t pull away.
Can’t.
The bond holds me. My body holds me. My magic holds me.
And for one breathless moment, I want him to kiss me.
Then—
“My lord,” Riven says, stepping into the chamber. His golden eyes flick between us, wary. “The vote has been called.”
“What vote?” I ask.
“The Oath of Crimson Fealty,” he says. “After the collapses, the sabotage, the bond’s instability… the council has decided. They’re calling for a formal review.”
My breath catches.
“A review?”
“Yes.” Riven hesitates. “They want to determine if the Oath should be upheld… or dismantled.”
“And the vote?”
“Twelve members. Six to uphold. Six to dismantle. And one tiebreaker.”
“Who?”
Riven looks at Kaelen. Then at me.
“You.”
The room goes still.
The bond flares—hot, violent. A wave of heat crashes through me, flooding my veins, pooling between my thighs. I gasp. My knees buckle. I would fall if Kaelen didn’t catch me.
His arm wraps around my waist, yanking me against him. Our chests press together. Our breaths mingle. His eyes—black, endless—burn into mine.
“Blair,” he growls. “Look at me.”
I can’t. I’m drowning. The visions won’t stop. The heat won’t fade. My body aches—for him, for release, for something.
“Fight it,” he says, voice rough. “Don’t let it take you.”
“I can’t—”
“Yes, you can. Look at me.”
I force my eyes open.
And for one breathless moment, we’re not enemies.
We’re hunger.
His lips are inches from mine. His breath is cold. His fangs graze my lower lip—just a whisper, a threat, a promise.
My body arches toward him. My hands clutch his coat. My magic flares, wild, uncontrolled.
I want to kiss him.
I want to hate him.
I want—
And then—
Stillness.
The heat fades. The visions stop. The bond settles into a low, steady hum.
We’re still tangled together. Still pressed close. Still breathing each other’s air.
But the moment has passed.
“You have to vote,” Kaelen says, voice rough. “And you have to choose.”
“And if I don’t?”
“Then the Oath stands. And the bond becomes permanent in four days. And Malrik wins.”
My breath catches.
“And if I vote to dismantle it?”
“Then we break it. Together. And you lose your magic.”
“Unless you’re right,” I say. “Unless it’s not gone. Unless it’s just… buried.”
He doesn’t answer. Just watches me, his black eyes searching mine.
And then—
“Then we find out,” he says. “Together.”
“And if I vote to uphold it?”
“Then you’re no better than the monsters who killed your mother.”
My stomach twists.
He’s right.
And he knows it.
“You’re not giving me a choice,” I say.
“I’m giving you the truth.”
“And what if the truth isn’t enough?”
“Then you’re already lost.”
I don’t answer. Just press my palm to my sternum, as if I can hold the truth down by force. But it’s already there, burning in my veins.
My mother’s blood fuels the Oath.
And if I break it, I lose my magic.
But if I don’t, I lose myself.
“When’s the vote?” I ask.
“Now,” Riven says. “They’re waiting.”
Kaelen doesn’t let go of me. Just holds me tighter. “You don’t have to do this alone.”
“I’ve always been alone.”
“Not anymore.”
I don’t answer. Just let him lead me through the shattered corridors, past the cracked stone and flickering wards, past the whispers that curl like smoke from shadowed arches. There she is. The witch he claimed. Did you see her mark him? Did you see him flinch?
I don’t look. Don’t answer.
But I feel them.
Like needles in my skin.
We reach the council chamber—its towering obsidian walls, its twelve thrones carved from black stone, its single table etched with runes. The members are already seated—vampires in dark coats, werewolves with fur-lined cloaks, witches with ritual stoles, fae with veiled eyes. They turn as we enter, their gazes sharp, their silence heavy.
Lira is there.
Of course she is.
She sits in the back, draped in black silk, her red hair spilling over one shoulder, her lips painted crimson. Her eyes lock onto mine—dark, knowing, jealous.
And then—
The vote begins.
“We are gathered,” the vampire elder intones, “to determine the fate of the Oath of Crimson Fealty. Twelve voices. Twelve votes. And one tiebreaker.”
He turns to me.
“Blair Vale. You are the last living descendant of Seraphine Vale, the original bound. You carry her blood. Her magic. Her curse. And you are bound to Kaelen D’Vaire, the last heir of the D’Vaire line. Your vote will decide the fate of the Oath. Will you uphold it… or dismantle it?”
The room is silent.
Twelve pairs of eyes on me.
Twelve voices waiting.
And one choice.
I look at Kaelen.
He doesn’t speak. Doesn’t move. But I feel him—through the bond. His pulse. His breath. His need.
He wants me to break it.
Not for revenge.
Not for power.
But for us.
I look at Lira.
She smiles. Slow. Deadly.
She wants me to uphold it.
Because if I do, I lose my magic.
And if I lose my magic, I lose my power.
And if I lose my power, I lose him.
And if I lose him—
She wins.
I press my fingers to my sternum.
And then—
I feel it.
Not just the bond.
Not just my magic.
But her.
My mother.
Not as a ghost. Not as a memory.
But as a presence.
Like a whisper in the blood.
Blair…
I don’t flinch. Don’t speak. But my magic flares—wild, uncontrolled. The bond surges in response, a jolt of heat slamming through me. I can feel her—her rage, her pain, her betrayal.
“You left me,” I say, voice breaking. “You died, and you left me alone.”
I had no choice, she whispers. He took me. He used me. And now he’s using you.
“He’s not using me.”
Isn’t he? He marked you. He claimed you. He made you his.
“I marked him first.”
You think that makes you free? You think love breaks a curse? It only deepens it.
“I don’t love him.”
Then why do you ache for him? Why does your magic sing for him? Why does your blood burn when he’s near?
I don’t answer. Can’t.
Because she’s right.
And so is he.
I’m not fighting him.
I’m fighting myself.
“The vote,” the elder says, voice sharp. “Blair Vale. Your decision.”
I close my eyes.
I see her—my mother—standing in a sunlit garden, her hair like spun silver, her laughter like wind through leaves. She’s not afraid. Not broken. Just… gone.
And I see Kaelen—on the marble steps, fangs buried in a traitor’s throat, blood dripping like wine. Not a monster. Not a killer.
But a man who’s been alone too long.
And I see myself—torn between revenge and desire, between justice and love, between the woman I was and the woman I could be.
And then—
I know.
Not because of the bond.
Not because of the magic.
But because of the truth.
“I vote,” I say, voice steady, “to dismantle the Oath of Crimson Fealty.”
The room erupts.
Gasps. Shouts. Chairs scraping as members rise in protest.
“You can’t!” a witch screams. “The Oath is ancient! It’s sacred!”
“It’s a curse,” I say, louder. “It’s a lie. It’s a chain that’s been used to enslave women, to steal their magic, to erase their lives. And I will not let it stand.”
“And what about the bond?” the fae arbiter demands. “If the Oath is broken, the bond becomes unstable. It could destroy you both.”
“Then let it,” I say. “Better to die free than live as a slave.”
“And if it doesn’t destroy you?” Lira asks, standing. “If it only binds you tighter? If it makes you his forever?”
I turn to her. “Then I’ll face it. As myself. Not as a pawn. Not as a weapon. But as a woman who chose her own fate.”
She doesn’t flinch. Just smiles. “Brave words. But bravery won’t save you.”
“No,” I say. “But truth will.”
The elder raises his hand. Silence falls.
“The vote is cast,” he says. “Six to dismantle. Six to uphold. The tiebreaker has spoken. The Oath of Crimson Fealty… is under review.”
“Not dismantled?” I ask.
“Not yet,” he says. “But the process has begun. The Oath will be examined. Its validity questioned. And in seven days, we will reconvene. And then—” He looks at me. “You will cast the final vote.”
My breath catches.
Seven days.
One week.
And then—
Final judgment.
“You’ve started something,” Kaelen says, low, as we leave the chamber. “There’s no turning back now.”
“I never wanted to turn back,” I say.
“Then why do you look afraid?”
“Because I’m not sure I’m strong enough.”
He stops. Turns to me. His hand finds mine beneath the cloak, fingers threading through mine. The bond screams—a surge of heat, of scent, of need. I gasp. My body arches. My magic flares, wild, uncontrolled.
“You are,” he says, voice rough. “Stronger than anyone I’ve ever known.”
“And if I’m not?”
“Then I’ll be strong for both of us.”
My breath catches.
And then—
He pulls me into a shadowed alcove, his body pressing into mine, his hands caging me in. My breath hitches. My magic flares. The bond roars—a surge of heat, of scent, of need.
“You were magnificent,” he growls, voice rough. “Standing there. Facing them. Choosing justice over revenge.”
“I didn’t choose justice,” I say. “I chose truth.”
“Same thing.” His hand slides up my thigh, slow, deliberate. “And you want me to prove it.”
“What?”
“That I’m worth it.” He leans in, his lips brushing mine. “Don’t you?”
My breath hitches. My body arches toward him. My hands clutch his coat. My magic flares, wild, uncontrolled.
I want to kiss him.
I want to hate him.
I want—
And then—
The door creaks.
Footsteps.
We both turn.
Lira stands there, her red hair wild, her eyes blazing. She’s not in black silk anymore. She’s in a blood-red gown, her chest heaving, her hands clenched into fists.
“You think you’ve won?” she says, voice sharp. “You think a vote changes anything?”
“It’s a start,” I say.
“No.” She steps closer. “It’s a mistake. And you’ll pay for it.”
“With what?” I snap. “More lies? More poison? More false claims?”
“With blood,” she says. “And if you’re not careful, it’ll be yours.”
Kaelen moves fast—vampire speed, a blur of black coat and bared fangs. He steps between us, his body a wall of cold, controlled power. “Leave,” he says, voice low. “Before I make you.”
She doesn’t flinch. Just smiles. “You won’t. Not while she’s here. Not while you need her.”
“Then I’ll make it quick.”
She laughs. A sharp, broken sound. “You’re not the only one with secrets, Kaelen. And when they come out—” She turns to me. “You’ll wish you’d voted to uphold the Oath.”
And then she’s gone—gliding past us, her dress brushing my arm, her scent lingering like a curse.
Silence.
And then—
Kaelen turns to me. “You don’t have to face her alone.”
“I’m not afraid of her.”
“You should be.”
“And you?”
“I’m afraid of losing you.”
My breath catches.
And then—
He pulls me into his arms.
Not rough. Not possessive.
But *holding*.
And for the first time, I don’t pull away.
The bond hums—low, steady, satisfied.
Like a promise.
Like a curse.
Like the beginning of something neither of us can stop.