The carriage ride to the Moonveil Court was silent.
Not the comfortable kind of silence—the kind that settles between lovers after a night of tangled limbs and whispered confessions. Not even the tense kind—the kind that hums with unspoken threats and simmering rage. This was something deeper. Heavier. A quiet so thick it pressed against my eardrums, made my wolf pace beneath my ribs, made the mating mark on my neck pulse like a second heartbeat.
Kaelen sat across from me, his back straight, his hands folded in his lap, his crimson eyes fixed on the passing forest. He hadn’t spoken since we left Blackthorn Keep. Hadn’t touched me. Hadn’t even *looked* at me. Not after last night. Not after the fire. Not after I’d ridden him, claimed him, bitten him back—again—and come apart in his arms like I’d been waiting my whole life to shatter.
And I had.
Not just my body. Not just my magic.
But my *resolve*.
I’d come to Blackthorn Keep to burn him. To expose him. To make him pay for my family’s exile. To reclaim the Vale Codex and restore my mother’s name.
And now—
Now I wasn’t sure what I wanted.
Not because I’d forgotten. Not because I’d forgiven. But because the truth—what little I had—wasn’t as simple as I’d believed. Malrik hadn’t stolen the Codex. Lira had lied. The Council had ruled in our favor. And Kaelen—
Kaelen had let me hate him to keep me safe.
And last night—
Last night, he’d let me *claim* him.
Not as a vampire lord. Not as a predator. Not as a mate bound by magic.
But as a man.
As *Kaelen*.
And I—
I’d let him.
“We’re approaching the border,” he said, his voice low, rough, breaking the silence.
I didn’t answer.
Just turned my head, pressing my forehead to the cold glass of the window. The forest outside was changing—thicker, older, the trees taller, their bark silvered with age. The air shimmered with something I couldn’t name—glamour, magic, *danger*. We were entering Fae territory. The Veil was thin here. Reality bent. Truths twisted.
And I—
I wasn’t ready.
“You don’t have to go,” he said, his voice softer now. “I can handle the negotiations alone.”
“No,” I said, turning to face him. “You said I was your equal. Your partner. Not your prisoner. Not your pet.”
“I did,” he said, his eyes locking onto mine. “And you are. But the Fae—”
“The Fae,” I said, cutting him off, “are the ones who summoned *us*. Both of us. And if they think I’m weak, if they think I’m just some hybrid witch you dragged along to stroke your ego—” I leaned forward, my voice dropping—“they’ll destroy us.”
He didn’t flinch.
Just watched me, his crimson eyes glowing in the dim light. “You’re not afraid of them.”
“I’m not afraid of *anything*,” I said, my voice sharp. “Not anymore.”
He smiled—faint, knowing. “Liar.”
And then—
The carriage stopped.
The door opened, and Silas stood there, his dark eyes scanning the road before offering me his hand. I ignored it, stepping out on my own. The air outside was thick with the scent of night-blooming jasmine and damp earth, laced with something sweeter, something *deceptive*. The Moonveil Court rose before us—a spire of silver stone, its towers twisting like vines toward the sky, its windows glowing with an unnatural light. The gates were open, but no guards stood watch. No sentries. Just silence.
“They’re watching,” Kaelen murmured, stepping up beside me. “In the trees. In the shadows. In the air.”
“Let them,” I said, adjusting the strap of my dagger. “I’m not here to hide.”
We walked together, side by side, through the gates. The ground beneath our feet was paved with moonstone, each tile etched with Fae runes that pulsed faintly as we passed. The air shimmered, the world bending at the edges, like reality itself was uncertain. My wolf stirred, not in fear, but in *awareness*. The Fae didn’t fight with steel. They fought with *truths*. With *bargains*. With *oaths*.
And I—
I was walking into their court with a lie on my tongue.
“Petunia Vale,” a voice called, smooth as silk, sharp as a blade.
I turned.
Prince Orin Moonshadow stood at the base of the spire, his silver robes flowing like liquid, his eyes—pale gold, slit like a cat’s—locked onto mine. He was beautiful, in a way that made my skin crawl. Too perfect. Too still. Like a statue carved from ice.
“And Kaelen Duskbane,” he said, bowing his head slightly. “The Blood Moon has brought you far. And yet—” his gaze swept over us—“you are still unbalanced.”
“The bond is stable,” Kaelen said, stepping forward. “The Council has ruled.”
“The Council,” Orin said, smiling, “rules over vampires. Over werewolves. Over witches. But not over *us*.” He stepped closer, his eyes locking onto mine. “And not over *her*.”
I didn’t flinch.
Just held his gaze, steady, unyielding. “You summoned us. Why?”
“Because the balance falters,” he said, his voice dropping. “The Blood Moon demands equilibrium. And you—” his gaze flicked to Kaelen—“have disrupted it. You took what was not yours. You bound what should remain free. You *claimed* what was never meant to be yours.”
“The bond was sealed in protection,” I said, my voice sharp. “Not manipulation. Not coercion.”
“And yet,” Orin said, stepping closer, “you were the one who attacked him first. Who slapped him. Who called him a monster.”
“Because I *thought* he was,” I snapped. “Because you—” I turned, pointing at Lira, who stood at the edge of the courtyard, her silver gown shimmering, her frost-blue eyes gleaming—“used her to make me doubt him.”
Lira smiled. Slow. Cruel. “I only told the truth, little wolf. He *did* whisper my name. He *did* crave me. And he *would* have taken me—”
“No,” Kaelen said, stepping forward. His voice was low, dangerous. “I never touched you. Never fed from you. Never *wanted* you. You were a pawn. A distraction. And if you’d stayed silent, you’d still be alive.”
The courtyard fell silent.
Lira’s smile faltered.
“Then why did you let me believe it?” she asked, her voice trembling.
“Because,” Kaelen said, “the truth would have made you dangerous. And I needed you *predictable*.”
She laughed—soft, broken. “You used me.”
“And you used me,” I said, stepping forward. “You planted that shirt. You recorded that moment. You gave it to Malrik. You wanted me to doubt him. To break the bond. To *run*.”
“And did you?” Lira asked, tilting her head. “Did you run?”
I didn’t answer.
Because I hadn’t.
And they all knew it.
Orin stepped between us, his gaze sweeping over the courtyard. “Enough.” His voice was soft, but it cut through the air like a blade. “The bond is real. The footage shows passion, not coercion. The mating mark was sealed in protection, not manipulation. And Petunia Vale—” he turned to me—“you saved Lord Duskbane’s life. You bled for him. You *claimed* him in return.”
My breath hitched.
He knew.
They all knew.
“Therefore,” Orin continued, “the Moonveil Court rules that the bond stands. Petunia Vale and Kaelen Duskbane remain co-anchors of the Eastern Dominion. They will act as one in all matters of state. And if either attempts to sever the bond—” he looked at Lira—“they will be charged with treason.”
Lira’s smile vanished.
But she didn’t speak.
Just stepped back, her frost-blue eyes dark with something that looked too much like *fear*.
“And now,” Orin said, turning to us, “the tribute.”
My stomach twisted.
I’d forgotten.
Of course they’d demand tribute. The Fae always did. A life. A memory. A secret. A century of service.
“What do you want?” Kaelen asked, his voice cold.
Orin smiled. “Not from you. From *her*.”
My pulse spiked.
“Me?”
“You reek of vampire and wolf,” Orin said, stepping closer, his eyes locking onto mine. “Delicious. But more than that—” he inhaled sharply—“you reek of *power*. Of bloodline magic. Of *truth*.”
“And what truth?” I asked, my hand tightening on my dagger.
“The truth,” he said, his voice dropping, “that you are here to reclaim what was stolen. That you seek the Vale Codex. That you will do *anything* to get it.”
My breath stilled.
He knew.
Of course he knew.
“And what if I said I would give it to you?” he asked, his lips curving into a slow, cruel smile. “In exchange for a night. One kiss. One truth revealed.”
My stomach twisted.
One kiss = one truth revealed.
One night together = one century of service owed.
And if I refused—
They’d take something else. Something worse.
“No,” Kaelen said, stepping in front of me. “She’s not your bargaining chip.”
“She is,” Orin said, “because she *chooses* to be.”
I stepped around him.
“I’ll do it,” I said, my voice steady. “One kiss. One truth.”
Kaelen turned, his eyes blazing. “You don’t know what you’re agreeing to.”
“I do,” I said, my hand sliding to the mating mark on my neck. “And I’m not afraid.”
Orin smiled. “Then step forward, Petunia Vale. And let the truth be known.”
I did.
One step. Then another.
Until I stood before him, close enough to feel his breath on my skin, close enough to see the slit of his pupils, close enough to smell the sweetness beneath the deception.
And then—
He kissed me.
Not gentle. Not kind.
Hard. Possessive. A claim.
His mouth crashed against mine, his tongue sliding against mine, his hands gripping my arms. The bond *screamed*, a surge of heat and magic and *rage* that ripped through me, wave after wave. My body arched, not in pleasure, but in *revolt*. My wolf howled, not in submission, but in *defiance*. My magic flared, golden light pulsing from my skin, fighting the Fae glamour, fighting the *truth*.
And then—
It came.
The truth.
Not mine.
His.
“The Codex is not here. It is in the heart of the enemy. Where no one would dare look. Where the blood oath is strongest.”
My breath caught.
And then—
I pushed him away.
“The Codex isn’t here,” I said, my voice raw. “It’s in the heart of the enemy.”
Orin smiled. “And now you know.”
“But where?” I asked. “Where is it?”
He didn’t answer.
Just stepped back, his silver robes flowing like liquid. “You’ll find it. When the time comes. And when you do—” his gaze flicked to Kaelen—“you’ll have to choose. Revenge. Or him.”
I turned.
Kaelen stood behind me, his jaw tight, his eyes blazing. He hadn’t moved. Hadn’t spoken. Hadn’t tried to stop me.
And yet—
I could feel it.
His fear. His rage. His *need*.
“You let me do it,” I said, my voice quiet.
“I didn’t stop you,” he said. “Because I knew you’d do it anyway. And because—” he stepped closer, his hand sliding to the back of my neck—“I trust you.”
My breath hitched.
“You don’t get to say things like that,” I whispered. “You don’t get to use my own weakness against me.”
“I’m not using it,” he said, his thumb brushing my lower lip. “I’m *seeing* you. Not the hunter. Not the avenger. Not the hybrid with a grudge. But *you*. Petunia. The woman who bites back when she’s hurt. Who fights when she’s afraid. Who *loves* even when she says she doesn’t.”
“I don’t love you,” I said, my voice trembling.
He smiled—faint, knowing. “Liar.”
And then he kissed me.
Not hard. Not possessive.
Soft. Slow. *Real*.
His lips moved against mine, gentle, reverent. His hand cradled my neck, his thumb stroking the mating mark. The bond flared, a surge of heat and magic and *truth*, sealing us, binding us, *claiming* us.
And for the first time—
I didn’t fight it.
I leaned into him.
Just a fraction.
Just enough.
And as the silver spires rose around us, as the Moonveil Court whispered with secrets, as the Blood Moon stained the sky crimson—
I realized—
I wasn’t just here to burn him.
I was here to burn *with* him.
And for the first time—
I didn’t want to survive the fire.
I wanted to *live* in it.