The Fae High Court loomed before me like a blade through the heart of Nocturne—ancient, unyielding, its spires clawing at the storm-heavy sky. Carved from black stone and moonlight, it stood apart from the Obsidian Spire, older, colder, its presence humming with the weight of oaths and blood. No torches burned here. No banners waved. Just silence. And the scent of crushed violets and iron.
I stood at the base of the steps, my boots clicking against the obsidian, my gloves tight over my palms, my dagger hidden in my boot. The summons had come at dusk. The truth-ordeal was set for dawn. And now, here I was—Crimson Veyra, daughter of Seraphine, accused of treason, of sedition, of being the Hollow King’s whore.
And I was ready.
Not to lie.
Not to beg.
To *burn.*
—
The doors opened without a sound.
Not pushed. Not pulled. Just… parted, like the air itself had exhaled. Inside, the chamber was vast, a cathedral of shadows and silver light. The floor was polished bone-white stone, etched with fae runes that pulsed faintly beneath my feet. The walls rose into darkness, lined with statues of ancient judges, their eyes hollow, their hands clutching blades of pure moonlight. At the far end, the High Seat sat empty—carved from a single slab of black diamond, its surface reflecting nothing, absorbing everything.
And around it—
The Council.
Not all of them. Just the ones who mattered.
Lord Vexis sat to the right, his Seelie robes shimmering like poisoned silk, his smile sharp, his eyes gleaming. Nyx stood behind him, barefoot, dressed in black lace, her crimson eyes glowing, her wrists bandaged. She didn’t look at me. Just smiled, slow, knowing.
And then—
Kael.
He stood at the left, his coat whispering against the stone, his hands clasped behind his back, his crimson eyes burning. He didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Just watched me, his presence a wall at my back.
The bond flared—a hot pulse beneath my skin, like a star collapsing in his chest. My breath hitched. Just a fraction. Just enough.
“You’re late,” Vexis said, his voice smooth, honeyed. “I was beginning to think you wouldn’t come.”
“And miss this?” I said, stepping forward, my voice low, steady. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”
“Then kneel,” he said. “And swear by blood and bone that you have not conspired against the Council.”
“I don’t kneel,” I said. “Not to you. Not to your lies. Not to the man who murdered my mother.”
The chamber stilled.
Even Kael tensed.
Vexis didn’t flinch. Just smiled. “Then you will be judged. And if the oath breaks, you will be erased.”
“Then let it break,” I said. “Because I have nothing to hide.”
—
The blade came first.
Not steel. Not silver. A shard of moonlight, drawn from the air itself, its edge glowing faintly. A fae oath-blade. One cut. One truth. One life.
They didn’t ask me to swear.
They just pressed the blade to my palm.
Pain flared—sharp, blinding, *unbearable*—but I didn’t flinch. Just stood there, my breath steady, my heart a locked vault. Blood welled—dark, rich, *powerful*—and the moment it touched the stone, the runes ignited.
And then—
Memory.
Not mine.
Theirs.
The chamber dissolved. The Council vanished. And I was back—standing in the shadows of the Obsidian Spire, my breath steady, my heart a locked vault. My mother stood in the center, her head high, her voice steady. *“I did not conspire with the vampires. I did not betray the Council. I served this realm with honor, and I will not be silenced.”*
And then—Vexis. Stepping forward, his smile sharp. *“Then let the oath be tested.”*
She knelt. The fae blade pressed to her palm. She spoke the words—*“I swear by blood and bone, I have not betrayed the Council.”*
The blade glowed silver.
And then—black.
“She lied,” Vexis said. “The oath is broken. Sentence: Erasure.”
But I knew the truth.
The blade had been tampered with. The oath hadn’t been broken.
She’d been framed.
And then—me. Hidden in the shadows, my hands pressed to my mouth, my breath silent, my heart breaking. I hadn’t been allowed to speak. Hadn’t been allowed to weep. I’d stood there, and watched them erase her.
And then—fire.
The pyre. The silver ink burning. The silence where her name used to be.
And then—Kael. Standing at the edge of the dais, his face cold, his eyes empty. But beneath it—*grief.* A flicker. A crack. A whisper of something he’d buried for centuries.
The memory shifted.
Now I was in the war room. Kael on his knees, head bowed, voice raw. *“I failed you. I let them hurt you. I let them doubt you. And I will spend every day from now until my death making it right.”*
And then—me, turning away. My hands clenched into fists, my heart pounding like a war drum.
And then—Nyx. In his chambers. Her hand on his chest. Her lips on his neck. Her voice, low, seductive. *“You used to beg for my blood. For your touch. For my scream.”*
But it wasn’t true.
It was a lie. A performance. A knife meant for me.
And then—Kael’s voice, quiet, firm: *“You’re not what I think?”* And then, softer: *“She’s not what you think.”*
The memory shifted again.
Now I was in the crypts. Nyx on her knees, gasping, her eyes wide with something I couldn’t name. Fear? Regret? *Envy?* And me, my hand still around her throat, my voice low, deadly: *“You will not touch her. You will not speak her name. And if you ever come near her again, I will bury you with the kings and let the worms feast on your lies.”*
And then—Kael, standing in the courtyard. Cold wind on his face. The sky black. The moon a sliver of bone. And me, carrying him through the keep, my face pale, my jaw tight, my hands gripping him like he might vanish. *“Don’t leave me,”* I murmured. *“Not now. Not ever.”*
And then—him, pressing his palms to my chest, whispering the incantation—*Sanguis aperio, veritas regnat.* Blood opens, truth reigns.
And then—connection.
Not just through the bond.
Through *us.*
I felt him—his pain, his fear, his love, his guilt, his need. I saw his memories—his first love’s execution, his century of silence, the moment our hands touched, the way his breath caught when I walked into a room.
And I let him feel me.
My mother’s trial, the pyre, the silence where her name used to be. The dagger in my boot. The vow to kill him.
And then—us.
The near-kiss in the war room. The blood-sharing ritual. The way his hands felt on my skin. The way his voice sounded when he said, *“You’re already mine.”*
The memory shifted.
Now I was in his chambers. His lips brushing mine. Not a kiss. A *promise.* And then—my mouth crashing down on his—hard, desperate, *needing.* Not to dominate. Not to possess.
To *connect.*
My hands fisted in his hair, my body pressing him into the bed, my breath hot against his lips. The bond roared, a wildfire in my veins, burning through every lie, every wall, every reason I had to keep him at arm’s length.
But this wasn’t just desire.
This was *surrender.*
And then—
Stillness.
I gasped, my body arching, my hands flying to his waist. His skin cooled. His breath steadied. The blood at his lip stopped.
He was alive.
And I was—
Shattered.
Because I hadn’t just healed him.
I’d *felt* him.
And I’d liked it.
And then—
Darkness.
—
I woke with a gasp.
The chamber snapped back into focus. The runes dimmed. The blade was gone. The Council stood frozen, their faces pale, their eyes wide. Even Vexis looked shaken. Nyx had stepped back, her hands clenched into fists, her jaw tight.
And Kael—
He was beside me.
Not touching. Not speaking. Just standing there, his presence a wall at my back.
“You see?” I said, my voice low, raw. “I didn’t lie. I didn’t betray the Council. I didn’t seduce the Hollow King.”
“You *loved* him,” Vexis spat. “You let him touch you. You let him *take* you.”
“And if I did?” I challenged. “What of it? The bond is real. The oath is real. And if you think love is a crime, then you’re the one who doesn’t belong here.”
He didn’t answer. Just turned to the High Seat. “The oath has been tested. She is not guilty of treason.”
A murmur ran through the chamber.
But he wasn’t done.
“But she is dangerous,” he said. “A half-breed witch with a blood debt. A woman who carries a dagger in her boot and fire in her eyes. She will not stop. She will not yield. And one day, she will destroy us all.”
“And you?” I said, stepping forward. “The man who framed my mother. Who erased her name. Who stood by while they burned her at the pyre. You’re the one who doesn’t belong here.”
“Prove it,” he said, smiling.
And I did.
—
I drew my dagger.
Not to kill.
To *remember.*
I pressed the silver blade to my palm and sliced open the skin. Blood welled—dark, rich, *powerful.* The scent flooded the air, thick with iron and storm. The bond flared—a wildfire in my veins, burning through every wall, every lie, every reason I had to keep him at arm’s length.
And then—I closed my eyes.
And I *pulled.*
Not from my magic.
From my *mother.*
Her final memory. The one I’d buried. The one I’d refused to see. The one I’d been too afraid to face.
And it came—
Not as an image.
As a *storm.*
I was back in the crypts beneath the Obsidian Spire. Cold stone. Flickering torchlight. The scent of blood and decay. My mother lay on the slab, her wrists bound, her face pale, her breath shallow. She wasn’t dead. Not yet. But she was dying.
And Vexis stood over her.
Not with a blade.
With a vial.
Dark liquid. Thick. *Wrong.*
“You should have bowed,” he said, his voice smooth, honeyed. “You should have sworn allegiance. But you were too proud. Too loyal to the wrong side.”
“I served the Council,” she whispered. “I served the realm.”
“And now you serve *me,*” he said, uncorking the vial. “With your death.”
And then—he poured it.
Not on her skin.
Into her mouth.
She choked. Gagged. Tried to turn her head, but he held her fast. The liquid burned—black, corrosive—eating through her from the inside. Her body convulsed. Her eyes rolled back. And then—
Stillness.
She was dead.
And Vexis smiled.
“Now,” he said, turning to the guard, “take her to the pyre. Let the Council believe she was executed for treason. Let them erase her name. And let the world forget she ever existed.”
And then—
Darkness.
—
I gasped, my body convulsing, my hands flying to my mouth. The memory had been *real.* Not a vision. Not a dream. A *truth.* Buried deep, locked away, hidden by grief and fear.
And now—
It was free.
“You killed her,” I whispered, my voice breaking. “You murdered her. You poisoned her. You made them erase her name. You made them *burn* her.”
The chamber stilled.
Even Vexis looked shaken.
“You have no proof,” he said, but his voice wavered.
“I *am* the proof,” I said, stepping forward, my blood dripping onto the stone. “I felt it. I saw it. I *know* it.”
“And the Council?” he said, regaining his composure. “Will they believe a half-breed witch over a Seelie lord?”
“They will,” a voice said.
And then—
Kael stepped forward.
Not to me.
To *him.*
“I believed it too,” he said, his voice low, guttural. “I thought she was guilty. I thought Seraphine had betrayed us. But I was wrong. I fought for her. I pleaded for clemency. I offered my own life in exchange. But Vexis had already decided. He wanted her gone. And when I refused to bow, he made me watch. Made me remember. Made me *fail.*”
“And now?” Vexis said, smiling. “Now you protect her daughter? Now you risk everything for a woman who wants to kill you?”
“She doesn’t want to kill me,” Kael said. “She wants *justice.* And I will give it to her.”
And then—he turned to me.
Not with words.
With *truth.*
His hand lifted, slow, and pressed to my cheek, his thumb brushing my jawline, his touch feather-light, *reverent.* The bond flared—a hot pulse beneath my skin, like a star collapsing in his chest.
“You don’t get to touch me,” I whispered, echoing his words.
“I already do,” he said. “And you? You *crave* it.”
My breath hitched.
And then—I broke.
Not with anger.
Not with vengeance.
With *grief.*
My body collapsed against him, my hands fisted in his coat, my face buried in his neck. The scent of him—winter pine, dark earth, iron—filled my lungs. And then—tears. Hot. Silent. *Endless.*
“He killed her,” I sobbed. “He murdered her. And I almost killed you.”
He didn’t speak. Just held me, his arms tight around my waist, his face buried in my hair. “I know,” he whispered. “And I’m sorry. For everything.”
“And you?” I said, pulling back, my storm-colored eyes burning. “You let them hurt her. You let them doubt her. You let them erase her.”
“And I will spend every day from now until my death making it right,” he said, his voice raw. “If you’ll let me.”
My breath caught.
And then—silence.
Not the quiet of peace. Not the hush of resolution. But the kind of stillness that comes before a storm—the air thick, charged, every breath a spark waiting to ignite.
And then—
I kissed him.
Not hard. Not desperate.
Soft.
Slow.
A *promise.*
And gods help me, he answered it.
His mouth crashed down on mine—hard, desperate, *needing.* Not to dominate. Not to possess.
To *connect.*
My hands flew to his hair, not to push him away, but to hold on. My body arched into his, my breath hot against his lips. The bond roared, a wildfire in my veins, burning through every lie, every wall, every reason I had to hate him.
But this wasn’t just desire.
This was *surrender.*
And when I finally pulled back, breathless, my forehead resting against his, I whispered the only truth that mattered:
“You were right,” I said. “And I don’t know if I can trust you either.
But I know this—I can’t live without you.”
He didn’t answer.
Just held me, his fingers digging into my coat, my body still trembling from the aftershocks.
Because the truth was worse than I’d imagined.
I wasn’t here to kill the Hollow King.
I was here to love him.
And that was the most dangerous thought of all.