The fire still burned low in the hearth, casting long, flickering shadows across the obsidian walls of our chambers. The scent of night-blooming jasmine and old blood lingered in the air—his scent, my scent, the scent of us, tangled together like the remnants of a spell too powerful to break. My skin still hummed from his touch, from the way his fangs had grazed my neck, from the way his hands had trembled when I told him I loved him.
He’d said it back.
Not just the words.
But the truth behind them.
“I love you too. And I’ve never said that to anyone before.”
I hadn’t slept. Couldn’t. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw it—his face, raw with emotion, his crimson eyes wide, his voice breaking like he’d just torn his soul open and handed it to me. I’d curled into his chest, my ear pressed to his heart, listening to the slow, steady beat beneath his ribs. Vampires didn’t need to breathe. Didn’t need to sleep. But he’d held me anyway, his arms tight around me, his lips pressed to my hair, his body warm despite the chill of his kind.
And I—
I’d stayed.
Not because of the bond.
Not because of duty.
But because I *wanted* to.
Because for the first time in my life, I didn’t feel like I had to fight to exist. To survive. To prove I belonged.
Here, in his arms, I just… was.
And it terrified me.
“You’re thinking too loud,” he murmured, his voice rough with sleep he didn’t need.
I didn’t answer. Just shifted in his arms, pressing my palm to the sigil on my chest—no, not my chest. My palm. The mark still glowed faintly, pulsing with every beat of my heart. The bond was awake. Alive. And it remembered.
And so did I.
“You said you’d go to the Moonveil Court,” I said, my voice quiet. “That they summoned us. That the Blood Moon demands balance.”
He was silent for a long moment. Then, “I did.”
“And?”
“And I want you at my side,” he said, his hand sliding to the back of my neck, his thumb brushing the mating mark. “Not as my mate. Not as my prisoner. But as my equal.”
My breath caught.
“You keep saying that,” I whispered. “But I don’t know if I believe it.”
He turned, his crimson eyes locking onto mine. “Then let me prove it.”
“How?”
“By doing what I should have done months ago,” he said, sitting up. The sheets slid down his bare chest, revealing the scar on his shoulder—the one I’d left when I bit him in protection. The one that now glowed faintly, silver like the rest of our marks. “By taking you to the Moonveil Court. By walking in with you at my side. By letting the Fae see that we are not divided. That we are not broken. That we are one.”
My chest tightened.
“And what if they don’t believe it?” I asked. “What if they see it as weakness? As manipulation?”
“Then let them,” he said, standing. He pulled on his shirt, the fabric clinging to every lethal line of him. “Because it’s not weakness. It’s strength. And if they can’t see that—” he turned, his eyes blazing—“then they’re not worth our time.”
I stared at him.
And for the first time—
I saw it.
Not control.
Not possession.
But trust.
––––––
The carriage ride to the Moonveil Court was silent again.
But not the thick, heavy silence of before—no, this was different. Lighter. Charged. Like the air before a storm. My skin still burned from his touch, from the way he’d held me, from the way he’d whispered, “I love you,” like it was the most dangerous truth he’d ever spoken. The mating mark pulsed, warm and insistent, a silver scar now, glowing faintly with every beat of my heart.
And beneath it—
The truth.
The Codex wasn’t in the Moonveil Court.
It was “in the heart of the enemy.”
Where no one would dare look.
Where the blood oath was strongest.
My fingers traced the crescent moon on my palm—the sigil from the map, the one that had led me to believe Malrik had it. But it was a lie. A trap. Just like Orin had said.
And if it wasn’t Malrik—
Then who?
Who had the power to steal a witch’s grimoire, to hide it where the Fae couldn’t reach, to bind it with a blood oath so strong not even I could break it?
Only one person.
Kaelen.
My breath caught.
No.
He’d protected it. Hid it. Let me hate him to keep me safe.
But what if Mother was right?
What if the greatest betrayal wasn’t in the theft—
But in the silence?
“We’re here,” Silas said, opening the carriage door.
I stepped out, the cool night air hitting my skin like a slap. The Moonveil Court loomed before us—spires of silver stone twisting like vines toward the sky, their 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.
––––––
The truth hit me like a blade to the chest the moment we stepped back into the carriage.
“The heart of the enemy,” I whispered, my fingers pressing to the sigil on my palm. “Where no one would dare look.”
Kaelen turned, his crimson eyes searching mine. “What is it?”
“The Codex,” I said, my voice breaking. “It’s not hidden in some vault. Not buried in stone. Not guarded by Fae or witches or vampires.”
“Then where?”
“In you,” I said, my breath catching. “It’s in your blood. In your veins. In your heart.”
He didn’t flinch.
Just watched me, his eyes burning. “And what if I said you were right?”
My chest tightened.
“Then I’d ask why,” I said, my voice trembling. “Why hide it in your own blood? Why bind it with a blood oath only you could break? Why let me believe you were the thief? Why let me hate you?”
He didn’t answer.
Just reached into the inner pocket of his coat and pulled out a silver dagger—ancient, etched with runes, its blade stained with dried blood. The same one he’d used to sever his bond with Lira. The same one he’d kept hidden, waiting for this moment.
“You’re sure?” he asked, his voice rough.
I didn’t flinch.
Just nodded. “Do it.”
He turned, facing the wall of the carriage. Raised the dagger. And in one swift motion—
Slashed his palm.
Blood welled, dark and thick, dripping onto the floor. He whispered the incantation in Old Tongue, the words burning in his throat. The runes on the blade flared crimson, then faded. The air shimmered, a pulse of magic rippling outward.
And then—
It came.
Not a book.
Not a grimoire.
But a memory.
A vision.
My mother—her storm-amber eyes wide, her lips moving in a silent plea—pressing the Codex into Kaelen’s hands. “Hide it,” she whispered. “In your blood. In your heart. Where no one would dare look. Where the blood oath is strongest. And if my daughter comes—tell her I’m sorry. Tell her I love her. Tell her… she’s not alone.”
The vision shattered.
I gasped, my hand flying to my mouth. Tears burned in my eyes. My wolf howled, not in rage, but in grief.
“She gave it to you,” I whispered. “Before she died. She trusted you.”
He nodded, his crimson eyes burning. “She did. And I’ve kept it. Protected it. Hidden it. Because if Malrik had it, he would have torn the Council apart. He would have started the Veilfire War again. He would have destroyed everything.”
“And you let me believe you were the thief,” I said, my voice breaking. “You let me hate you. You let me love you—”
“Because I am a thief,” he said. “I stole your trust. Your peace. Your revenge. But I didn’t steal the Codex. I protected it. For her. For you. For us.”
My breath caught.
And for the first time—
I saw it.
Not lies.
Not manipulation.
But love.
I stepped forward, my hand sliding to his chest, over his heart. “You’re still alive,” I said.
“Because of you,” he said.
“And the Codex?”
“In my blood,” he said. “In my heart. And now—” he stepped closer, his hand sliding to the back of my neck—“in yours.”
My breath stilled.
“How?”
“By sharing it,” he said. “By letting you drink from me. By binding it to you. By making it ours.”
My chest tightened.
“And if I say yes?”
“Then you’ll have it,” he said. “Not as a weapon. Not as a tool. But as a legacy. As a truth. As a promise.”
I didn’t answer.
Just leaned into him.
Just a fraction.
Just enough.
And as the carriage rolled toward Blackthorn Keep, as the Blood Moon stained the sky crimson, as the bond pulsed beneath my skin—
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.