The bite on my neck still burns.
Not from pain.
Not from venom.
From truth.
A truth I can no longer outrun. A truth I can no longer deny. The mark is real. The bond is real. And the man who just claimed me in front of the entire Council—Kael Draven, the king, the executioner, the monster I came here to kill—is not the man I thought he was.
He didn’t just bite me.
He chose me.
Not because of fate.
Not because of magic.
Because he wanted to.
And that—
That terrifies me more than any blade.
We walk back to the royal wing in silence, the guards trailing behind, the torchlight flickering against the obsidian walls. The bond hums between us, a live wire, pulling me toward him like gravity. I don’t look at him. Don’t speak. Don’t even breathe too loud. Because if I do, if I acknowledge what just happened—if I let myself feel the weight of his arm around my waist, the heat of his body, the way his thumb strokes my pulse point—I’ll break.
And I can’t break.
Not yet.
Because if I break, vengeance dies.
And if vengeance dies—
Then I have nothing.
The connecting door to my chambers is open. I step inside, move to close it, but he stops me—his hand on the frame, his storm-gray eyes dark, unreadable.
“You don’t have to be alone,” he says, voice low.
“I’m not alone,” I say. “I have the bond.”
“That’s not what I meant,” he says.
“I know,” I say. “And I don’t need you playing the hero. Not after what you did. Not after what you let happen.”
He flinches.
Just slightly.
But I see it.
And I hate myself for making him feel it.
Because he tried.
He tried to save my father.
And failed.
Just like I have.
“Then what do you need?” he asks, stepping closer. “Because I’ll give it to you. Whatever it is. Just say the word.”
“I need the truth,” I say. “All of it. Not just what Silas told me. Not just what you’ve shown me. The whole truth. About my father. About my mother. About you.”
He doesn’t answer.
Just watches me, his jaw tight, his breath slow.
And then—
“It’s not safe,” he says. “If Mab knows you’re Elara’s daughter—”
“I’m not afraid of Mab,” I snap.
“You should be,” he says. “She killed your mother. She framed your father. And she’ll kill you the moment she knows who you are.”
“Then let her try,” I say, stepping closer. “I’m not hiding anymore. I’m not running. I’m not pretending I don’t feel this—” I press my hand to the bite on my neck “—or this—” I slam my palm over the sigil on my wrist “—or this—” I press my hand to my chest, over my heart “—between us. It’s real. And I won’t let her take it from me.”
He doesn’t move.
Just stares at me, his eyes wide, his breath coming fast.
And then—
He kisses me.
Not soft. Not sweet.
Hard. Angry. Needing.
His hands snap to my waist, pulling me against him, his body hard and hot, his fangs grazing my lip. I moan, my hands fisting in his shirt, my body arching into his, aching for more, for everything.
And then—
He pulls back.
Just enough to look at me.
“I’ll tell you,” he says, voice rough. “But not here. Not now. When the time is right. When I can keep you safe.”
“And when will that be?” I ask.
“Soon,” he says. “But until then—” he brushes a strand of hair from my face “—trust me.”
“I don’t trust you,” I say.
“Then start,” he says. “Not with love. Not with loyalty. With truth.”
And then he’s gone.
Back through the door, down the hall, his presence fading like a shadow.
I close the door. Lock it. Lean against it, my breath coming fast, my heart hammering.
And then—
I slide down.
Until I’m sitting on the floor, my knees pulled to my chest, my hands pressed to my face.
Because I do trust him.
And that’s the most dangerous thing of all.
I don’t know how long I sit there. Minutes? Hours? The sun has risen, painting the balcony in gold, but I don’t move. Don’t think. Just breathe.
Until—
A knock.
Sharp. Insistent.
Not from the connecting door.
From the main one.
“Who is it?” I call, my voice raw.
“Silas,” comes the reply. “Open the door.”
I don’t move.
“Magnolia,” he says, quieter now. “Please. It’s urgent.”
I rise. Unlock the door.
He steps inside, his dark eyes sharp, his posture tense. He doesn’t look at me. Just scans the room—wardrobe, vanity, bed—like he’s searching for something.
“What do you want?” I ask, closing the door behind him.
“To warn you,” he says.
“Again?” I snap. “You’ve done enough. You told me Kael tried to save my father. You told me Lira’s lies. You—”
“I found your dagger,” he says.
My breath stills.
“What?”
“The one you keep hidden,” he says. “Under the floorboard. Behind the loose stone. The Fae-forged blade.”
I freeze.
“You went through my things?”
“I had to,” he says. “Lira’s spies are everywhere. If she finds it—”
“Then she dies,” I say, stepping closer. “I don’t care if she’s Fae nobility. I don’t care if she’s protected by the High Court. If she touches that blade—”
“She won’t,” he says. “Because I took it.”
My blood runs cold.
“You what?”
He reaches into his coat.
And pulls it out.
My dagger.
Black iron, hilt wrapped in worn leather, the Fae sigil etched into the blade—three interlocking crescents, the mark of the High Court. It hums in his hand, alive with stolen magic, vibrating like a caged beast.
I lunge for it.
He steps back.
“Don’t,” he says. “You don’t understand what this is. What it means.”
“It’s mine,” I hiss. “You have no right—”
“It’s not just a weapon,” he says. “It’s a declaration. A theft. A war.”
“Then let me start it,” I say, stepping closer. “Let me carve Mab’s heart out with it. Let me make her pay for what she did.”
“And get yourself killed in the process?” he asks. “You think Kael can protect you if the Fae High Court declares you an enemy? You think the Concord will hold if you assassinate their queen?”
“I don’t care about the Concord,” I say. “I don’t care about the peace. I care about justice.”
“And you think killing her will bring your father back?” he asks. “You think it’ll erase the pain? The loss? The emptiness?”
My breath hitches.
“No,” I whisper. “But it’ll make her suffer.”
“And then what?” he asks. “You’ll be a fugitive. A hunted thing. You’ll spend the rest of your life running. And Kael—”
“He doesn’t matter,” I say, too fast.
“Liar,” he says. “You think I haven’t seen the way he looks at you? The way he touches you? The way he breathes for you? He’d burn the world before he let you die. And if you throw yourself into Mab’s claws—”
“Then he’ll survive,” I say. “He’s survived worse.”
“Has he?” Silas asks. “Because I’ve never seen him hesitate for anyone. But for you? He’d break. And if he breaks—”
“Then it’s his own damn fault,” I snap. “He shouldn’t have claimed me. He shouldn’t have marked me. He shouldn’t have—”
“Loved you?” Silas finishes.
I freeze.
“Don’t say that,” I whisper.
“Why not?” he asks. “Because it’s true? Because you feel it too? Because when he touches you, when he tastes you, when he’s inside you—you don’t hate him. You want him.”
“I came here to kill him,” I say, voice breaking. “To make him pay for what he did. And now—”
“And now?” he asks.
“Now I don’t know if I can,” I whisper.
And that—
That’s the most dangerous thing of all.
Because if I can’t hate him—
If I can’t kill him—
Then I’m already his.
And I—
I won’t let her take it from me.
“Give me the dagger,” I say, stepping closer. “Now.”
He doesn’t move.
Just watches me, his eyes searching mine.
And then—
He hands it over.
Not without a fight. Not without a warning.
“Keep it hidden,” he says. “Don’t use it unless you’re ready to face the consequences. And don’t think for one second that Kael won’t find out. He sees everything. He knows everything. And if he thinks you’re going to throw your life away—”
“Then let him try to stop me,” I say, sliding the dagger into my sleeve. “I’m not his prisoner. I’m not his pawn. And I’m not his mate.”
“Aren’t you?” Silas asks.
I don’t answer.
Just turn, walk to the balcony, throw open the doors.
The night air does nothing to cool the fire in my veins.
Behind me, I hear him move.
Then silence.
Then—
“You’re not who you say you are,” he says, voice low. “But I won’t tell him. Yet.”
I don’t turn.
Just stand there, my hands gripping the railing, my breath coming fast.
Because he’s right.
I’m not who I say I am.
I’m not just a widow with a grudge.
I’m not just a spy with a mission.
I’m Elara Vale’s daughter.
Half-Fae. Half-human.
A weapon forged in vengeance.
And I will not be silenced.
The sun rises higher, painting the gardens in gold. I don’t move. Don’t think. Just breathe.
Until—
A shadow falls across the stone.
I don’t turn.
“You’re up early,” Kael says, voice low.
“Couldn’t sleep,” I say, not looking at him.
“The bond?”
“Not just that,” I say. “Everything.”
He steps beside me. Doesn’t touch. Doesn’t speak. Just stands there, his presence a wall of power, his silence heavier than any command.
And then—
“Silas told me,” he says.
My breath stills.
“Told you what?”
“About the dagger,” he says. “About the sigil. About what it means.”
“And?” I ask, finally turning. “Are you going to take it from me? Lock me away? Call the Council?”
He doesn’t answer.
Just reaches into his coat.
And pulls out a second blade.
Not Fae-forged.
Not stolen.
But just as deadly.
Black iron. Worn leather. Draven sigil—coiled serpent, thorned wings—etched into the crossguard.
The one that killed my father.
He holds it out.
“Take it,” he says.
“Why?” I ask, not moving.
“Because it’s yours,” he says. “Not as a weapon. Not as a trophy. As a reminder. Of what was taken. Of what must be restored.”
“And what if I use it on you?” I ask.
“Then do it,” he says. “But know this—” he steps closer “—if you kill me, you kill the only one who’s ever fought for you. The only one who’s ever seen you. And if you do—”
“Then I’ll die with you,” I say.
He doesn’t flinch.
Just holds my gaze, his storm-gray eyes dark, fierce, mine.
And then—
He presses the hilt into my hand.
“I don’t care if you hate me,” he says. “I don’t care if you never forgive me. But don’t you dare throw your life away. Not for vengeance. Not for pride. Not for me.”
My breath hitches.
“Why do you care?” I whisper.
“Because I love you,” he says. “And I’ll burn the world before I let you die.”
And then—
He’s gone.
Back through the door, down the hall, his presence fading like a shadow.
I stand there, the two daggers in my hands—one forged in Fae lies, one forged in vampire blood—both humming with power, both screaming with memory.
And then—
I slide them into my sleeves.
One on each side.
Balance.
Truth.
Vengeance.
And love.
And as I stand there, the sun rising behind me, the bond humming in my blood, his scent clinging to the air, I whisper into the dark:
“You want me to believe in you.”
“But I came here to burn you down.”
“And I won’t stop…”
“Until I do.”