The silence after Torin’s warning was worse than the words themselves.
They knew.
The Northern Coven—Silas’s people—had sent an envoy. And they weren’t here to greet Lyra Vale. They were here to unmask her.
Me.
My breath came shallow, too fast. My heart hammered against my ribs like it wanted to break free. The bond flared, reacting to my panic, sending a wave of heat through my core. I pressed a hand to my stomach, trying to steady myself, but the ache between my thighs only sharpened. Kaelen’s kiss still burned on my lips, his bite a throbbing pulse on my shoulder. I could still taste him—iron and smoke, the faint copper of my own blood.
And now I had to pretend.
Again.
Kaelen turned to me, his expression unreadable, but his eyes—dark, intense—held something I couldn’t name. Not anger. Not suspicion. Something deeper. Something that made my chest tighten.
“You’re not ready,” he said, voice low.
“I don’t have a choice.”
“You do.” He stepped closer. “You can stay here. Let me handle them.”
“And say what? That Lyra Vale is indisposed? That she’s been compromised?” I shook my head. “They’ll smell the lie. They’ll demand proof. And when they don’t get it, they’ll tear this place apart until they find me.”
He exhaled, long and slow. “Then we give them what they want.”
“A performance?”
“A *convincing* one.” His hand cupped my face, his thumb brushing the cut on my lip—from his fangs, from my defiance. “You play the emissary. Calm. Controlled. Unfazed. I’ll be at your side. Watching. Protecting.”
“And if they test me?”
“Then we lie faster.”
I almost smiled. Almost.
But the fear was still there, coiled deep. Because this wasn’t just about survival. This was about the mission. About the truth. About my mother.
And if I failed now, I failed her all over again.
He stepped back, grabbing a black cloak from a hook by the door and draping it over my shoulders. “Keep this on. Hide the bite. The runes.”
I nodded, pulling the fabric tight around me. The scent of him—cedar, smoke, power—wrapped around me like armor.
“Ready?” he asked.
I looked up at him. “No.”
“Good.” He opened the door. “Fear keeps you sharp.”
The halls of the Undercroft were colder than I remembered, the torchlight casting long, jagged shadows across the stone. Council members watched from doorways, their whispers like knives. *Spy. Traitor. Abomination.* I kept my head high, my steps steady, Kaelen a silent, looming presence at my side. His hand rested at the small of my back—light, but possessive. A claim. A warning.
We reached the Council chamber. The doors were already open, revealing a figure standing at the center of the dais—tall, robed in deep crimson, face hidden beneath a hood. Around him, Silas and two other Northern Coven elders stood, their expressions unreadable.
My blood turned to ice.
Not just because they were here.
But because I recognized the envoy’s scent.
Witch. Fae-blooded. *Familiar*.
Mira.
My foster sister. My only family. The woman who raised me in the human underground, who taught me blood magic, who swore to protect me.
And now she was here—wearing the colors of the enemy.
My breath caught.
Did she know? Had she come to expose me? To save me? To betray me?
Kaelen’s hand tightened against my back, grounding me. “Breathe,” he murmured.
I did. Slow. Steady.
We stepped into the chamber.
All eyes turned to us.
“Ah,” Silas said, his voice smooth as poisoned honey. “The *happy couple*.”
“Elder Vale,” Kaelen said, voice cold. “To what do we owe the honor?”
“We received word that Lyra Vale had arrived,” the envoy said, lowering her hood.
And there she was.
Mira.
Her dark hair was braided tightly, her face sharp with purpose. Her eyes—green as fresh blood—locked onto mine. No warmth. No recognition. Just calculation.
“We wished to welcome her,” she continued, “and confirm her identity.”
My stomach dropped.
This wasn’t a visit.
This was an execution.
“Lyra Vale is under my protection,” Kaelen said, stepping slightly in front of me. “And the Soulbrand has already confirmed her truth.”
“Has it?” Mira asked, tilting her head. “Or has it been *manipulated*?”
“You doubt the magic?” Silas asked, though his eyes gleamed with satisfaction.
“I doubt *her*,” Mira said, stepping forward. “The Northern Coven has not sent an emissary in ten years. And now, one appears—conveniently, the same night a Soulbrand is forged with the High Arbiter?”
“Coincidence,” Kaelen said.
“Or conspiracy.” Mira turned to me. “Prove it. Show us your sigils. Let us test your blood.”
I held her gaze. “I don’t answer to you.”
“No,” she agreed. “You answer to *him*.” She gestured to Kaelen. “And he answers to the Council.”
“The bond is valid,” Kaelen said. “No further proof is required.”
“Then let her speak,” Mira said. “Let her prove she knows the Coven’s ways. Let her cast a simple truth-seeing spell—one only a true Northern witch could perform.”
My pulse roared in my ears.
This was a trap.
Truth-seeing spells required blood. And if I used mine, they’d know. They’d see the Unseelie taint. The hybrid blood. The lie.
But if I refused—
“Very well,” Kaelen said, surprising me. “Let her cast it.”
I turned to him. “You can’t be serious.”
“I am.” He stepped aside, giving me space. “Prove yourself, *Lyra*.”
I swallowed.
He was testing me too.
Not just the Council. Not just Mira.
But *me*.
Could I lie under pressure? Could I deceive even those who knew me best?
I stepped forward, lifting my chin. “A truth-seeing spell requires blood,” I said. “Whose shall I use?”
“Mine,” Mira said, cutting her palm with a silver blade and holding it out.
Smart.
If I used her blood, I wouldn’t expose my own. But if I failed—if the spell didn’t work—then I was still a fraud.
I took her hand, pressing my fingers to the wound. Blood welled, warm and sticky. I closed my eyes, drawing on the magic, whispering the incantation under my breath. The air shimmered. A faint golden light pulsed between us.
And then I saw it.
Mira’s truth.
Not just her loyalty to the Coven.
But her fear.
Her love.
Her *secret*.
She knew who I was.
And she had come to warn me.
The spell faded. The light dimmed.
“Satisfied?” I asked, releasing her hand.
Mira stared at me, her eyes wide for just a second—then shuttered. “The spell worked. She is… legitimate.”
“Good,” Kaelen said. “Then this farce is over.”
“For now,” Silas said, smiling. “But the Council will be watching. Closely.”
“As you should,” Kaelen replied. “Especially when traitors hide in plain sight.”
The tension in the room thickened. Silas’s smile didn’t waver, but his eyes darkened.
Then Mira turned to me. “I would speak with you. Privately.”
“No,” Kaelen said.
“As emissaries of allied covens,” Mira said, “we have the right.”
Kaelen hesitated. Then, slowly, he nodded. “Five minutes. In my chambers. I’ll be outside.”
“Of course,” Mira said, smiling.
We walked in silence back to his quarters, the weight of unspoken words pressing between us. The door sealed behind us. I turned to her.
“You shouldn’t have come.”
“And let you walk into a trap blind?” She stepped closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. “They know, Gold. Silas knows Lyra Vale is dead. He knows you’re not her. He’s just waiting for the right moment to expose you.”
My breath caught. “How?”
“He has spies everywhere. Even in the human underground.” She reached into her sleeve and pulled out a small vial of dark liquid. “He’s planning a ritual. A binding. He wants to force you into another’s bed—break the Soulbrand, claim your power for his son.”
My stomach twisted. “When?”
“Soon. You have to leave. Tonight.”
“I can’t.” I shook my head. “Not yet. I haven’t found the proof. Not about the execution. Not about the conspiracy.”
“And what if you die trying?”
“Then I die.”
She grabbed my arms. “You don’t get to throw your life away! Your mother didn’t sacrifice herself so you could get yourself killed!”
Tears burned behind my eyes. “I know.”
“Then *run*.”
“I can’t.” I looked at her. “Because he didn’t kill her, Mira. Kaelen. He tried to save her.”
She froze. “What?”
“He voted to spare her. Silas blocked it.” I pulled out the letter, pressing it into her hands. “She told me to trust him. And I… I think I do.”
Mira stared at the parchment, her fingers trembling. “You’re in love with him.”
“No.” The word came too fast. Too sharp. “I don’t— I can’t—”
“You *feel* something,” she said. “And that’s dangerous.”
“I know.”
She tucked the letter away. “Then be careful. Because Lysara won’t stop. And Silas?” She stepped back. “He’ll burn the world to keep his secrets.”
The door opened.
Kaelen stood there, his expression unreadable. “Time’s up.”
Mira nodded, walking past him without a word.
He stepped inside, sealing the door. “What did she say?”
“That I should run.”
“And?”
“And I told her I wouldn’t.”
He studied me. “Why?”
“Because I’m not done.” I turned to him. “And because I finally believe you.”
His jaw tightened. “You don’t have to—”
“I do.” I stepped closer. “I spent ten years hating you. Blaming you. And all this time, you were trying to protect me.”
“I failed your mother.”
“But you didn’t fail me.” I reached up, touching the mark on my shoulder—the bite that wasn’t a claim, but a promise. “You could have handed me over to Silas. You could have let me die. But you didn’t.”
He caught my wrist, his grip gentle. “I couldn’t.”
“Why?”
“Because the bond wouldn’t let me.”
“Or because *you* wouldn’t let you?”
He didn’t answer.
And then—
The door opened again.
Lysara stepped in, wearing one of Kaelen’s shirts—black, too large, the sleeves rolled up, the top buttons undone. Her hair was tousled. Her lips swollen. And on her neck—
The bite mark.
Fresh. Red. *Real*.
My breath caught.
“Kaelen,” she purred, stepping inside. “I forgot my—” She stopped, her eyes flicking between us. “Oh. Am I interrupting?”
Kaelen stepped in front of me, shielding me. “You’re not welcome here.”
“But I was just here,” she said, running a hand down the front of the shirt. “You let me wear this. You let me *stay*.”
“That was before.”
“Before what?” She smiled, slow and cruel. “Before you realized she’s a fraud? Before you remembered what it feels like to have a real woman in your bed?”
My chest tightened.
“Leave,” Kaelen said, voice low, dangerous.
“Or what?” She stepped closer. “You’ll throw me out? After everything we’ve shared?”
“You’ve shared nothing,” I said, stepping around him. “That mark is fake. A glamour.”
She laughed. “Is it?” She unbuttoned the shirt, pulling it open—revealing not just the bite, but claw marks down her sides. “He gets *feral* when he’s angry. When he’s *hungry*.”
My stomach dropped.
“He bites deep,” she whispered, stepping toward me. “And he *loves* it when you scream.”
The bond flared—hot, violent, *jealous*.
I wanted to rip the shirt from her body. To claw the mark from her skin. To make her *bleed*.
But then—
Kaelen moved.
In a blur of speed, he had her pinned against the wall, his hand around her throat, his fangs bared. “You wear that mark again,” he growled, “and I’ll tear it from your flesh myself.”
She gasped, her eyes wide with fear. “Kaelen—”
“You’re not her,” he snarled. “You never were. And if you touch her, if you *speak* to her again, I’ll make sure you regret it.”
He released her, stepping back.
Lysara slid down the wall, clutching her throat, her breath ragged.
“Get out,” he said. “Now.”
She scrambled to her feet, the shirt slipping off one shoulder, and fled.
Silence.
Then—
“She’s lying,” I said, voice hollow.
“Yes.” Kaelen turned to me. “I didn’t touch her. Not like that. Not in years.”
“Then how—”
“She’s been feeding from me. Stealing my blood. Using it to fuel her glamours, her lies.”
“Why?”
“Because she’s afraid.” He stepped closer. “Afraid of losing control. Afraid of being replaced. Afraid of *you*.”
“And you?” I whispered. “Are you afraid?”
He cupped my face, his thumb brushing my lip. “I’m terrified.”
“Of me?”
“Of what I’ll do when I stop pretending I don’t want you.”
The bond flared again, not with heat, not with jealousy—but with something deeper.
Something like *need*.
And then—
Footsteps.
Outside the door.
But not Mira’s.
Not Lysara’s.
These were light. Deliberate.
Silas.
“Kaelen,” came his voice, smooth as silk. “We need to speak. About your *mate*.”
My blood turned to ice.
The game was changing.
And this time, I wasn’t sure I could win.