The summons came at dusk.
A formal decree, delivered by a Dominion guard in black and silver, the scroll sealed with wax the color of dried blood. The Council was convening for an emergency session—*again*—and Kaelen was required to attend. So was I. As his bondmate. As the newly proven Eclipse Heir. As the woman whose very existence threatened to unravel two centuries of lies.
I stared at the scroll in my hands, the weight of it heavier than parchment should be. The mating mark still glowed faintly beneath my collar, a constant, pulsing reminder of the night before—the vision, the poison, the way I’d straddled him, palm pressed to his stomach, magic ripping through us both. I’d saved him. He’d saved me. And now—
We were exposed.
“They know,” I said, not looking up. “Cassian knows the bond is real. He knows I’m Eclipse. He knows we’re—” I hesitated. “Connected.”
Mira stood by the washbasin, folding a fresh blouse—black, high-collared, designed to hide the mark. She didn’t answer right away. Just smoothed the fabric with careful hands, her expression unreadable.
“Then let them know,” she said finally. “You’ve spent your life hiding. Running. Pretending. But you’re not that woman anymore.”
“No,” I agreed, voice low. “I’m not.”
I was something else now. Something stronger. Something *claimed*.
But I wasn’t ready to be seen.
Not like this. Not with the mark on my neck, not with the truth still raw in my chest, not with Kaelen’s voice still echoing in my mind—*“Until you love me.”*
I wasn’t ready to love him.
But I was close.
So close it terrified me.
“Help me dress,” I said, handing her the scroll. “And make sure the wards are active. If Cassian tries to sabotage the session again—”
“I’ll know,” she said, already moving. “The wards react to you now. To your magic. If anything’s wrong, I’ll feel it.”
I nodded, stripping off my sleep clothes, the fabric still carrying the scent of him—cold fire, old blood, something darker, richer. I washed quickly, the water icy against my skin, then let Mira help me into the new blouse, the corset laced tight, the collar high enough to conceal the mating mark. Almost.
“It’s still glowing,” she murmured, fingers brushing the fabric. “You can’t hide it forever.”
“I don’t have to,” I said, pulling on my boots. “I just have to survive tonight.”
—
Kaelen was waiting in the main chamber.
He stood by the hearth, backlit by the low fire, his silhouette sharp against the flickering shadows. He’d changed into formal attire—black velvet tunic, silver clasp at the throat, the D’Vire crest etched into the metal. His hair was slicked back, his fangs just visible when he turned his head. He looked like a king. Like a predator. Like the man who had carried me, kissed me, *claimed* me.
And for the first time, I didn’t look away.
He turned as I entered, those molten gold eyes locking onto mine. He didn’t speak. Just held out a hand.
I hesitated.
Then took it.
The bond *sang*—soft, warm, *alive*—as our fingers laced. His skin was cold, but the connection between us was anything but. It pulsed, a second heartbeat, his rhythm, *ours*.
“You’re tense,” he said, voice low.
“I’m not afraid,” I said.
“You should be.” He stepped closer, his free hand brushing the back of my neck, just above the collar. “Cassian won’t stop. He’ll use everything—your blood, your magic, *this*.” His thumb pressed lightly against the fabric, right over the mating mark. “He’ll call you an imposter. A seductress. A half-blood abomination who bewitched the High Sovereign to steal his power.”
My jaw clenched. “Let him try.”
“He will,” Kaelen said. “And he’ll do it in front of everyone.”
“Then we’ll fight back,” I said. “Together.”
He studied me—those golden eyes searching, *testing*—then nodded. “Good. Because I’m not letting you go.”
And then—
He kissed me.
Not hard. Not angry. But *soft*—a press of lips, a whisper of want, a promise. My hands fisted in his tunic, pulling him closer. The bond flared, warm and alive, a pulse of heat that made me gasp.
And then—
A knock.
Sharp. Insistent.
The door.
We broke apart.
“Kaelen,” came Silas’s voice, muffled. “The carriage is ready.”
He exhaled, long and slow, then pressed his forehead to mine. “Later,” he murmured. “This isn’t over.”
“It never is,” I said, smiling.
He took my hand.
And we walked out.
—
The Council Hall was already half-full when we arrived.
Chandeliers of frozen moonlight hung above, casting long shadows across the black marble. The twelve thrones loomed in a semicircle, each marked with the sigil of its species. Vampires in velvet and silver. Werewolves in furs and bone. Fae in illusion-woven silk. Witches in ink-stained linen.
And at the center—Cassian.
He sat in his throne, back straight, hands resting on the armrests, his expression unreadable. But his eyes—those ancient, dead eyes—flicked to me the moment I entered. To the collar of my blouse. To the faint, indigo glow beneath the fabric.
He knew.
And he was *smiling*.
I didn’t flinch. Didn’t look away. Just kept walking, my boots clicking once, twice, three times on the stone. Kaelen’s hand was still in mine, his grip firm, his presence a storm at my side.
We took our seats—side by side, per Council decree. The bond pulsed between us, low and insistent, feeding on the tension, on the hatred, on the sheer *need* that had been building since the moment our hands touched.
“Representatives,” Cassian began, voice oily, smooth, “we gather under emergency decree. Last night, the High Sovereign was poisoned—”
A gasp rippled through the chamber.
“—and saved by the so-called Eclipse Heir.” He turned, those dead eyes locking onto me. “A miraculous recovery. Too miraculous. A bonding ritual gone wrong. A mating mark that appeared without bite, without consent, *without proof*.”
My pulse spiked.
“You dare—” Kaelen began, voice a whip.
“I dare,” Cassian cut in. “Because the Council has a right to know. Is this woman truly Eclipse? Or is she a half-blood fraud, using forbidden magic to bind the High Sovereign to her will?”
The chamber erupted.
Voices. Shouts. Demands for proof.
And then—
He raised a hand.
“There is a way,” he said, voice low, dangerous. “A test. A *public* test. The Eclipse Heir must prove her power. Not in secret. Not in shadows. But here. Now. In front of us all.”
My stomach dropped.
“What kind of test?” I asked, voice steady.
“A simple one,” he said, smiling. “A dance. With the High Sovereign. Under the full moon’s light. And when the music ends—” He paused. “—you will stop time. Just for a second. Just long enough for us to see.”
I stared at him.
It wasn’t just a test.
It was a trap.
A public spectacle. A humiliation. A chance to expose me, to discredit me, to make me fail in front of the entire Council.
And if I refused—
I was weak. A fraud. A coward.
But if I succeeded—
I was a threat. A target. A woman who had to be destroyed.
I looked at Kaelen.
He didn’t speak. Just nodded. Once. A silent promise. A silent strength.
I turned back to Cassian.
“Very well,” I said, standing. “I accept.”
—
The ballroom was prepared in minutes.
A vast, circular space beneath the Council Hall, the ceiling enchanted to mimic the night sky. The full moon hung low, its light silver and cold, casting long shadows across the marble floor. A string quartet played in the corner—haunting, melodic, *dangerous*. And around the edges, the Council members stood, watching, waiting, *judging*.
Kaelen offered his hand.
I took it.
We stepped into the center of the room.
The music began—slow, deliberate, a waltz that felt like a countdown. He pulled me close, one hand at my back, the other holding mine, our bodies aligned, our breaths syncing. The bond hummed between us, a live wire, feeding on the proximity, on the tension, on the sheer *need* that had been building since the moment our hands touched.
“You don’t have to do this,” he murmured, voice low.
“Yes, I do,” I said. “For my mother. For the coven. For *us*.”
He didn’t answer. Just held me closer, his cold fire wrapping around me like a storm.
We danced.
Slow. Deliberate. *Ours*.
And then—
The music shifted.
Not faster. Not louder.
But *darker*.
A minor key. A whisper of dissonance. And then—
A flicker.
From the corner of the room.
A spell. Subtle. Hidden. But I *felt* it—magic, laced with fae illusion, designed to disrupt, to destabilize, to *break*.
“Cassian,” I hissed.
“I know,” Kaelen said, tightening his grip. “Don’t stop. Don’t look. Just *dance*.”
And then—
It hit.
Not a physical force. Not a blast of energy.
But *chaos*.
The floor tilted. The music warped. The moonlight flickered, shifting from silver to crimson. And then—
A scream.
From the edge of the room.
One of the Fae diplomats—Lysara—collapsed, clutching her head, her illusion shattering completely. She wasn’t alone. Others fell—vampires, werewolves, witches—each one writhing, screaming, *breaking*.
“It’s a mass illusion,” I said, voice tight. “He’s trying to make us lose control.”
“Then don’t,” Kaelen said, pulling me closer. “Stay with me. Focus on the bond. On *me*.”
I did.
Reached deep—into the well of my magic, into the blood of my mother, into the bond that tied me to him. I felt it—Eclipse power. Not just witch. Not just vampire. *Both*. A fusion. A fire. A storm.
And then—
The music stopped.
Just like that.
And Cassian’s voice cut through the silence.
“Now,” he said. “Prove it. Stop time.”
I didn’t hesitate.
Not because I wasn’t afraid.
But because I was *done* being afraid.
I closed my eyes.
Reached deep—into the well of my magic, into the blood of my mother, into the bond that tied me to him. I felt it—Eclipse power. Not just witch. Not just vampire. *Both*. A fusion. A fire. A storm.
And then—
I *pulled*.
Not with force.
Not with rage.
But with *need*.
For truth.
For justice.
For him.
The air stilled.
Not a breath. Not a whisper. Not a heartbeat.
Time—
Stopped.
I opened my eyes.
The ballroom was frozen. Cassian’s sneer, caught mid-sneer. Lysara’s illusion, half-shifted. The werewolf Alpha, fangs bared, caught in a snarl. Even the torches—frozen mid-flicker, casting long, still shadows across the marble.
And Kaelen—
He was moving.
Not fast. Not breaking the stillness. But *aware*. His eyes—golden, molten—locked onto mine. His hand reached for mine, slow, deliberate, and took it.
“You did it,” he said, voice the only sound in the world.
“I had to,” I said. “For us.”
He didn’t answer. Just pulled me close, his cold fire wrapping around me like a storm.
And then—
Time snapped back.
The chamber erupted—voices, shouts, demands for explanation. Cassian’s face was a mask of fury. Lysara hissed, her illusion shattering completely. The werewolf Alpha dropped to one knee, bowing his head.
“She is Eclipse,” he growled. “The magic has spoken.”
“Then the bond is real,” Kaelen said, stepping forward, his voice cutting through the noise. “And she is mine.”
Cassian stood. “This changes nothing. The mating mark—”
And then—
It happened.
Not by design. Not by magic.
But by *chaos*.
One of the Fae, still disoriented from the illusion, stumbled—knocking into me, hard. I staggered, my back hitting Kaelen’s chest, my arm flinging out—
The sleeve of my blouse tore.
Just a rip. Just a tear.
But enough.
Enough for the collar to slip. For the fabric to fall.
And for the mating mark—dark, raised, glowing—to be seen by everyone.
The chamber stilled.
Even Cassian’s breath hitched.
And then—
Whispers.
Gasps. Murmurs. The sound of scandal spreading like fire.
“She’s marked.”
“Without bite.”
“The bond is fated.”
“She’s his queen.”
I didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Just stood there, heart pounding, breath shallow, the mark burning on my skin like a brand.
Kaelen didn’t flinch. Just stepped forward, his hand at my back, his presence a storm at my side.
“Yes,” he said, voice low, dangerous. “She’s marked. And I didn’t even bite her. The bond chose her. The magic chose her. And I—” He turned, those golden eyes locking onto Cassian. “—choose her.”
The chamber erupted.
Not in outrage.
Not in denial.
But in *awe*.
The werewolf Alpha bowed his head. The witch representative nodded. Even Lysara—her illusion shattered, her face bare—looked at me with something like respect.
And Cassian—
He just smiled.
Slow. Dangerous. *Victorious*.
Because he knew.
He hadn’t won.
But he had started something.
A scandal. A war. A fire that would consume us all.
And I—
I was at the center of it.
Kaelen turned to me, his hand still at my back. “We should go,” he said, voice low.
I nodded.
And we walked out.
Not as fugitives.
Not as enemies.
But as equals.
As bondmates.
As the beginning of something new.
And as I stepped into the carriage, the mating mark still glowing beneath my collar, I knew—
This wasn’t just about vengeance.
Or politics.
Or the bond.
This was about *us*.
And for the first time—
I didn’t want to destroy him.
I wanted to *keep* him.
And I would.
No matter the cost.