The first thing I noticed when I woke was the silence.
No birds. No wind. No distant hum of the city beneath the Fae Court’s veil. Just the slow, steady rhythm of my own breath—and the even slower pulse beside me.
Kael.
He was still here. Still in the bed. Still close enough that the bond hummed faintly between us, a low, insistent thrum beneath my skin. I didn’t turn. Didn’t move. I lay perfectly still, staring at the canopy above, the black velvet drapes hanging like funeral shrouds. My body ached—not from violence, but from tension. From the war I’d fought all night just to stay on my side of the bed. From the way every breath had felt like a betrayal.
Because I’d dreamed of him.
Not as a monster. Not as my mother’s jailer. But as something else—something dangerous in a different way. A man with hands that knew my body before I did. A voice that whispered promises in a language I didn’t know but understood in my blood. A kiss that didn’t hurt—burned—and I’d arched into it like a starved thing.
I hated that dream.
I hated that my body still remembered it.
And I especially hated the way my pulse jumped when he shifted behind me, the sheets rustling as he sat up.
“You’re awake,” he said, voice rough with sleep.
“Observant,” I muttered, rolling onto my back. The motion brought me face-to-face with him—bare-chested, hair tousled, eyes still heavy with shadows. He looked… human. For a moment. Vulnerable. Then the mask snapped back into place, cold and impenetrable.
“You didn’t sleep,” he noted.
“I don’t trust my dreams.”
“And you trust waking more?”
“I trust my dagger. That’s all I need.”
He stood, pulling on a black silk robe, the fabric sliding over his shoulders like liquid night. “You don’t have it.”
“I’ll get another.”
“You’ll get caught.”
“Then I’ll die trying.”
He turned to me, eyes narrowing. “You really want to die that badly?”
“I want you to die.”
“Same difference, if the bond breaks.”
I sat up, the nightgown clinging to my skin. “You keep saying that. But you’ve never explained what happens to you if I die.”
He hesitated. Just a fraction. But I saw it. “Pain. Madness. The bond is two-way. You feel my emotions. I feel yours. If you’re gone—” He cut himself off. “It’s not a conversation worth having.”
“It’s the only one worth having,” I shot back. “Because I’m not your fiancée. I’m not your prisoner. I’m a weapon you’ve strapped to your side, and one day, I will turn.”
He didn’t flinch. Didn’t react. Just studied me with that infuriating calm. “Then make sure you’re ready when you do.”
Before I could respond, a knock echoed at the door.
“Enter,” Kael called.
The door opened. Two vampire servants stepped in, followed by a third carrying a velvet-lined box. They bowed in unison.
“Your Grace,” the lead servant said. “The Council has summoned you and your betrothed to the Hall of Edicts. The engagement rites begin at noon.”
My stomach dropped.
“Engagement rites?” I said, voice sharp. “There was no vote. No debate. Just a decree from the High Queen and now—what? A ceremony?”
“The bond is divine,” the servant replied, unfazed. “The Council merely formalizes what fate has already declared.”
Kael nodded. “We’ll attend.”
The servants bowed and left—except for the one with the box. He approached the bed, holding it out to Kael.
Inside was a ring.
Not just any ring.
A band of blackened silver, forged in the shape of intertwined serpents, their eyes set with twin drops of crimson—blood rubies, pulsing faintly, as if alive. The metal was etched with ancient runes, glowing faintly with a dark, inner light. I could feel the magic from where I sat—a slow, rhythmic throb, like a second heartbeat.
“What is that?” I asked, though I already knew.
“Your engagement ring,” Kael said, lifting it from the box. “Forged from Valen bloodline metal. Infused with our bond’s signature. It’s not just a symbol. It’s a tether.”
“You’re joking.”
“I don’t joke.”
He reached for my hand.
I yanked it back. “Don’t.”
“Tide.” His voice was low, warning. “If you refuse this in front of the Council, they’ll see it as rejection of the bond. That’s punishable by death.”
“Then let them kill me.”
“And condemn me to agony?” He stepped closer. “You want me to suffer? Fine. But this isn’t just about us. If the bond is broken, the Supernal Accord collapses. War erupts. Thousands die. Is that what you want?”
My breath caught.
He was using my own weapon against me—my conscience. My mother had died because of one man’s cruelty. But I’d spent my life vowing not to become a monster in the name of justice.
And now he was asking me to choose: my mission, or innocent lives.
I stared at the ring. At the pulsing rubies. At the way the runes seemed to shift, like living ink.
“Put it on,” I said, holding out my hand. “But know this—I wear it because I choose to. Not because you force me. And the second I find a way to break this bond, I’ll rip it from my finger and shove it down your throat.”
A flicker of something—admiration?—flashed in his eyes. Then he took my hand, sliding the ring onto my finger.
The moment it settled against my skin, fire exploded in my veins.
Not pain. Not pleasure. Something in between. A deep, searing heat that spread from my hand up my arm, curling around my ribs, sinking into my core. I gasped, staggering back—but the ring held me, the magic binding me in place.
And then—
I felt him.
Not just his presence. Not just the bond. But Kael. His thoughts. His emotions. A storm of control, of hunger, of something darker—shame. Regret. A lifetime of carrying a name he never wanted.
And beneath it all—me. My face in his mind. My voice. My scent. The way my lips had trembled when he kissed my hand in the atrium.
I wrenched my hand back, tearing myself from the connection.
“What the hell was that?” I demanded, clutching my fingers, the ring burning like ice and fire.
“The bond’s resonance,” he said calmly. “The ring amplifies it. Every time I touch you, every time you feel desire, every time your magic flares—it pulses. It keeps us linked. Even when we’re apart.”
“You’re a monster.”
“I’m a survivor,” he corrected. “And so are you. Now get dressed. We have a Council to face.”
He turned, walking toward the bathroom. “Clothes have been delivered. Don’t make me come back in here.”
The door shut behind him.
I stood there, trembling, the ring a brand on my finger. I tried to pull it off—but it wouldn’t budge. Magic held it in place. A leash disguised as a jewel.
I clenched my fist, hatred surging—but beneath it, something else.
Fear.
Not of death. Not of pain.
Of him.
Of how easily he’d slipped past my defenses. Of how his touch made my body betray me. Of how his voice, when it dropped to that low, velvet tone, made my breath hitch.
I was supposed to destroy him.
And yet, every moment with him felt like I was unraveling.
I moved to the wardrobe. The servants had laid out a gown—deep red, high-waisted, sleeves slashed to reveal the inner arms. Elegant. Deadly. The color of blood and fire.
I dressed in silence, each movement stiff, mechanical. My hair I left down, wild, untamed—like the storm inside me. I didn’t need to look like his obedient bride. I needed to look like a weapon.
When Kael emerged, dressed in black and silver, his circlet back in place, he paused, studying me.
“You look like war,” he said.
“Good,” I said. “Because that’s what I am.”
We walked to the Hall of Edicts in silence, guards flanking us, the bond humming between us like a live wire. The corridors were crowded—Fae nobles in glittering gowns, vampire lords in blood-dyed robes, werewolves in leather and steel. All watching. All whispering.
There she is.
The Storm-Witch.
Bound to Valen.
Did you see her face when he put the ring on? She looked like she wanted to kill him.
Maybe she will.
I kept my chin high. My spine straight. My hand clenched into a fist, the ring pulsing with every heartbeat.
The Hall of Edicts loomed ahead—a vast chamber of black marble and silver veins, the ceiling arching into a starless night sky. The Council stood at the far end: twelve figures in robes of their respective houses, the High Queen at the center, her silver crown gleaming.
We approached the dais.
“Prince Kael Valen,” the High Queen intoned. “And Tide of the Storm-Witch Line. You stand before the Council to formalize the bond ignited in the Grand Atrium. Do you accept this union as divine will?”
“I do,” Kael said, voice clear.
All eyes turned to me.
I could feel the weight of them. The expectation. The threat.
And I could feel him—his presence, his pulse, the way his fingers twitched at his side, as if he wanted to reach for me.
I took a breath.
“I do,” I said.
A murmur rippled through the hall.
Not triumph. Not joy.
Disbelief.
The High Queen smiled—a thin, knowing curve of her lips. “Then let the mark be sealed.”
A servant stepped forward with a silver chalice. Kael took it, drank a sip of blood wine, then offered it to me.
Our fingers brushed.
The ring flared.
Heat surged through me—low, deep, intimate. I could feel his desire, sharp and sudden, like a blade. Could taste the iron of his blood on my tongue before I’d even drunk.
I took the chalice. Drank.
The wine was sweet. Thick. It burned all the way down.
And then—
Kael stepped closer.
His hand cupped my jaw.
His thumb brushed my lower lip.
And he kissed me.
Not on the cheek. Not on the forehead.
Full. Deep. Possessive.
His lips were cool, but the kiss was fire. His fangs grazed my lip—just once—and I gasped, the sound swallowed by his mouth. The bond roared to life, a tidal wave of sensation—his hunger, my pulse, the way my body arched toward him without permission.
The hall erupted.
Cheers. Gasps. The scrape of steel.
And then he pulled back, his eyes black with need, his voice a growl only I could hear.
“You wear my mark now,” he said. “And you will wear it well.”