The night after the rebellion, the Obsidian Spire stood silent—too silent. No torches burned in the upper corridors. No enforcers patrolled the eastern halls. Even the wind seemed to hold its breath, as if afraid to disturb the fragile peace we’d clawed from the ashes.
I stood at the edge of the training yard, my boots sinking into the damp stone, my claws retracted but ready. The scent of blood still clung to the air—vampire, werewolf, witch—mingled with the sharp tang of ozone from the storm that had broken over the city. My body ached from the fight. My mind, sharper than any blade, refused to rest.
They’d come for Kael. For *her.*
And I’d been too slow.
Not in the fight. I’d taken down three rebels before they reached the throne room—two vampires with UV daggers, one witch who thought she could silence me with a truth-curse. I’d moved fast. Struck harder. Survived.
But not fast enough to reach him when he was pinned.
Not fast enough to stop her from stepping in.
And that—that was the wound that wouldn’t heal.
Because I’d sworn an oath long before the rebellion. Before the coronation. Before the Blood Moon Festival that had sealed their bond in fire and blood.
I’d sworn to protect the Hollow King.
And now—
He didn’t need me.
Not like he used to.
Now, when danger came, it wasn’t my shadow that moved first.
It was *hers.*
Crimson.
Half-breed. Witch. Fae. Assassin. Queen.
She’d dropped her dagger. Stepped forward with hands open. Spoken not with steel, but with *truth.* And the vampire had hesitated—just long enough for Kael to break free.
She’d saved him.
Not me.
And gods help me, I didn’t know whether to respect her… or hate her.
—
I didn’t hear him approach.
Didn’t catch his scent over the blood and rain.
Just felt the *weight* of him.
Kael stood at the edge of the yard, his coat whispering against the stone, his presence a wall at my back. He didn’t speak. Didn’t move. Just stood there, his crimson eyes fixed on the horizon, his jaw tight, his hands clasped behind his back. The bond pulsed between him and Crimson—slow, steady, *alive*—a second heartbeat beneath his skin. I could feel it, even from here. Not just in the air. In the way his shoulders relaxed when she was near. In the way his voice softened when he said her name.
“You’re thinking,” I said, not looking at him.
“I’m always thinking,” he replied.
“Not like this,” I said, finally turning. “This is the kind of thinking that leads to war. Or worse—peace.”
He didn’t smile. Just stepped forward, his presence pressing against me, his voice low. “Peace is the war we can’t afford to lose.”
I exhaled, slow, and leaned against the training post, my arms crossed over my chest. “And what about loyalty? What happens when the people sworn to protect you no longer recognize their place?”
He turned then, his gaze burning into mine. “Loyalty isn’t about position, Riven. It’s about choice. Every day. Every breath. Every heartbeat.”
My breath caught.
He saw it. But he didn’t press. Just stepped closer, his hand lifting, slow, deliberate, to rest on my shoulder. His touch was warm, steady, *certain.* “You don’t get to question your worth,” he said. “Not to me. Not after everything we’ve survived.”
“And yet,” I said, my voice rough, “I do. Because I used to be the one who stood between you and the blade. Now? I’m the one watching from the shadows while she walks into the fire.”
He didn’t flinch. Just tightened his grip. “You think I don’t see it? You think I don’t *feel* it? That I don’t carry the weight of every life I’ve asked you to risk?”
“Then why let her do it?” I snapped. “Why let her walk in front of that blade? Why not pull her back? Why not—”
“Because she’s not mine to control,” he said, voice low, guttural. “And neither are you. I don’t lead by command. I lead by trust. And if I can’t trust her to fight for me… then I don’t deserve to be followed.”
My jaw tightened. “And if she dies because of that trust?”
“Then I die with her,” he said, his crimson eyes burning. “Not before. Not after. *With.*”
And gods help me, I believed him.
Because I’d seen it—the way his body went still when she stepped forward. The way his breath caught when she dropped her dagger. The way the bond *screamed* when the vampire pressed the blade to his throat.
He wasn’t just her mate.
He was *hers.*
And I—
I was the Beta who’d once thought he was indispensable.
—
The summons came at dawn.
Not from the Council.
Not from Kael.
From *her.*
A single scroll, delivered by a young witch—her hands trembling as she handed it over. The seal was the Unseelie sigil: a crescent moon pierced by a dagger, dripping blood. No words. Just the mark.
I broke the seal and unrolled the parchment.
“Report to the eastern archive,” it read. “Alone.”
Just like that.
No explanation. No courtesy. No acknowledgment of rank.
And yet—
I went.
Not because I had to.
Because I *wanted* to.
Because I needed to know if she was everything Kael saw in her.
Or if she was just another weapon.
—
The archive was cold.
Not in temperature—though the torches burned low, casting long shadows across the shelves of ancient tomes and blood-ink ledgers. No, it was cold in the way only power can be. Silent. Heavy. The air hummed with the weight of centuries, of secrets, of truths buried beneath lies.
She stood at the center, her back to me, her gown replaced by a fitted leather tunic and riding pants, her gloves discarded, her witch-mark glowing faintly beneath her palm. The dagger was still in her boot—of course it was. Not for protection. Not for vengeance.
For *memory.*
She didn’t turn. Didn’t speak. Just said, “You’re late.”
“I came as soon as I could,” I said, stepping forward. “You didn’t say why.”
She turned then, her storm-colored eyes locking onto mine. “I didn’t need to. You’re Kael’s Beta. You serve him. And right now, he needs you to serve *me.*”
“And if I don’t?” I asked, lifting my chin. “If I decide my loyalty lies elsewhere?”
She didn’t flinch. Just stepped closer, slow, deliberate, until we were barely a breath apart. Her scent—storm and iron, laced with something sweeter, something warmer—filled my lungs. “Then you’re not the man he thinks you are. And I’ll know it. Not because of magic. Not because of the bond. Because I *see* lies. I smell them. I taste them. And right now, Riven, you reek of doubt.”
My breath caught.
She saw it. But she didn’t smile. Just reached out, slow, and brushed a strand of hair from my face. Her touch was warm, steady, *certain.* “You don’t get to question your place,” she said, echoing Kael’s words. “Not to him. Not to me. Not after everything we’ve survived.”
“And what if I don’t want a place?” I challenged. “What if I’m tired of standing in the shadows?”
“Then step into the light,” she said. “But don’t expect me to apologize for being there first.”
My core clenched. My skin burned. The bond pulsed—distant, muffled, but *alive*—like a star collapsing in his chest.
But I didn’t pull away.
Just stayed there, pressed against her, my breath mingling with hers, my body aching for more.
Because the truth was worse than I’d imagined.
I wasn’t here to protect the Hollow King.
I was here to survive *her.*
And if I wasn’t careful, I’d end up respecting her.
And that—more than any blade, more than any bond—was the one thing I couldn’t afford.
—
She turned then, walking to the far end of the archive, where a single ledger lay open on a stone pedestal. The ink was fresh—still glistening in the dim light. Names. Dates. Locations.
Rebels.
Not just Malrik’s. Not just the ones we’d fought in the courtyard.
Others.
Hidden. Waiting. Watching.
“They’re not done,” she said, not looking at me. “Malrik was a pawn. A distraction. The real threat is still out there. And if we don’t move fast, they’ll tear everything we’ve built apart.”
“And you want me to stop them,” I said.
“I want you to *lead* them,” she said, finally turning. “The Bloodfang scouts. The rogue enforcers. The witches who still doubt us. They need a leader they can trust. Not a vampire. Not a half-breed. A werewolf. A Beta. A man who’s fought beside them, bled with them, survived with them.”
My breath caught.
She saw it. But she didn’t press. Just stepped closer, her voice low. “I’m not asking you to serve me. I’m asking you to serve *him.* To protect what he’s built. What *we’ve* built. And if that means standing in the light… then stand.”
“And if I fail?” I asked.
“Then we all fall,” she said. “But not because you weren’t strong enough. Because you didn’t *try.*”
My jaw tightened. “And if I say no?”
“Then I’ll find someone who will,” she said, turning back to the ledger. “But I’d rather it be you. Because Kael trusts you. And if he trusts you… then so do I.”
And gods help me, that was worse than any blade.
Because I hadn’t earned it.
Not yet.
—
I left the archive in silence.
Not because I was angry.
Not because I was afraid.
Because I was *awake.*
Truly, completely, terrifyingly *awake.*
For the first time since I’d sworn my oath to Kael, I wasn’t just following orders. I wasn’t just enforcing the law. I was being asked to *lead.* To stand not behind the king, but beside him. Not as a shadow, but as a shield.
And she’d given me the chance.
Not because of duty.
Because of *trust.*
—
I found the scouts at dusk.
Not in the war room. Not in the training yard.
In the lower tunnels—where the old magic still breathed, where the fae-glass in the walls pulsed with forgotten light. They were restless. Angry. Distrustful.
They didn’t kneel when I entered.
Didn’t bow.
Just watched me, their amber eyes sharp, their claws bared.
“You’re not one of us,” one of them growled. “You serve the vampire.”
“I serve the king,” I said, stepping forward. “And the king serves the balance. And right now, the balance is under attack.”
“By who?” another asked. “Malrik’s gone. The rebellion failed.”
“Malrik was a distraction,” I said. “The real enemy is still out there. And if we don’t act now, they’ll tear everything apart.”
“And why should we listen to you?” a third challenged. “You’re not Alpha. You’re not even Bloodfang. You’re just the Hollow King’s dog.”
I didn’t flinch. Just stepped closer, slow, deliberate, until we were face to face. “Call me what you want. But I’ve bled for this city. I’ve fought for this balance. And if you think I’ll let some coward in the shadows destroy it… you don’t know me.”
They were silent.
Then—
One by one, they knelt.
Not to me.
To the cause.
To the fight.
And when the last one lowered his head, I didn’t smile.
Just said, “Then let’s move.”
—
Later, in the quiet of the war room, I stood at the window, my claws retracted, my body still humming from the hunt.
Kael entered without a sound.
Didn’t speak. Didn’t move. Just stood there, watching me.
“You did it,” he said.
“She gave me the chance,” I replied.
He stepped forward, his hand lifting to rest on my shoulder. “You earned it.”
My breath caught.
He saw it. But he didn’t press. Just squeezed, once, firm, *reassuring.* “You’re not just my Beta, Riven. You’re my brother. And I’ve always known you’d lead them when the time came.”
“And if I fail?” I asked.
“Then I’ll stand beside you,” he said. “Not behind you. Not above you. *With* you.”
And gods help me, I believed him.
Because I’d seen it—the way he’d looked at her when she stepped in front of the blade. The way he’d trusted her to fight for him. The way he’d let her lead.
And now—
He was letting me do the same.
—
I didn’t sleep that night.
Not because I was afraid.
Not because I was angry.
But because I was *awake.*
Truly, completely, terrifyingly *awake.*
For the first time, I wasn’t just protecting the Hollow King.
I was protecting what he’d become.
And what *we* could be.
And as I stood there, the bond pulsing in the distance like a second heartbeat, I realized something.
It was too late.
I already had.
I already *believed.*