The summons came at dawn.
Not in words. Not in scrolls. Not in the cold, formal script of the Council’s envoys. It came in blood.
A single drop, dark as midnight, smeared across the stone windowsill of our chambers. No message. No signature. Just the scent—sharp, ancient, laced with glamour and decay. Fae blood. But not Vexis. This was older. Colder. Hungrier.
I touched it with the tip of my finger, the warmth still lingering, the magic pulsing faintly beneath my skin. The bond hummed—soft, steady, but wary. Cassian stood behind me, his presence a wall of shadow and smoke, his crimson eyes scanning the horizon where the first light bled across the towers of Midnight Court.
“They’re calling,” he said, voice low, rough with sleep and something darker. “The Summer Court.”
My breath caught.
The Summer Court. Not allies. Not enemies. *Players*. Immortal, hedonistic, bound by oaths they twisted like ribbons. They had stayed silent through the upheaval—the treaty, the claiming, the fall of Vexis. They had watched. Waited. And now—
They were moving.
“Why now?” I asked, stepping back from the window. “We’ve done nothing to them.”
“You exist,” Cassian said, turning. His coat was unbuttoned, his chest bare beneath, the scars from the bloodsteel blade still faintly visible—a silver web across his ribs. “You rewrote the contract. You freed Mira. You broke Vexis. And you did it *together*. That’s a threat. Not to their power. To their *game*.”
“Then let them play,” I said, stripping off my nightgown, the Mark on my chest glowing faintly in the firelight. “We’re not their pawns.”
“No,” he agreed. “But they don’t see queens. They see *prey*.”
And then—
The mirror cracked.
Not the one that had held Vexis—shattered, erased. This was a smaller one, silver-edged, etched with runes of truth. It hung on the far wall, a gift from the Omega, meant to reveal deception. And now—
It *bled*.
Not glass. Not light.
Blood.
Thick, slow, *alive*. It oozed from the center of the mirror, spreading in a spiral, forming words in a language I didn’t know but *understood*.
Come.
Or she dies.
And then—
An image.
Not of fire. Not of war.
A woman.
Young. Pale. Her eyes wide with terror. Her wrists bound in golden vines, her mouth gagged with silk. A crown of fireflies perched on her brow, their light flickering like dying stars. And around her—
Green.
Endless green. Vines curling like serpents. Flowers blooming in impossible colors. The air thick with perfume and poison.
The Summer Court.
And the woman—
She looked like me.
Not in face. Not in form.
In *fire*.
“Who is she?” I asked, stepping closer.
“A doppelgänger,” Cassian said, his voice tight. “A glamour. A trap.”
“Then why does it feel real?”
He didn’t answer. Just stepped in front of me, his body a wall between me and the mirror. “Don’t look. It’s designed to pull you in. To make you *feel*.”
But I did.
Not fear. Not anger.
Grief.
As if she were real. As if she were *me*. As if she were already lost.
“They want you,” he said. “Not her. They’re testing you. Testing *us*.”
“Then we go,” I said. “Together.”
He turned, his crimson eyes burning. “You know what they’ll do. One kiss. One night. One touch. And the Rules of Touch bind you. A hundred years of debt. A thousand oaths. They’ll take your magic. Your memory. Your *bond*.”
“Then I won’t kiss,” I said. “I won’t touch. I won’t *breathe* if it means losing you.”
He didn’t flinch. Just cupped my face, his thumb brushing my lower lip. “You’re terrifying when you’re certain.”
“Good,” I said, smirking. “Because I’m not done.”
And then—
I kissed him.
Not fierce. Not desperate.
Slow. Deep. *Complete*.
His mouth moved against mine, patient, thorough, like he was learning me all over again. The bond flared—white-hot, electric—but this time, it didn’t feel like a war cry. It felt like a promise. My hands fisted in his coat, pulling him closer, my body arching into his. He groaned, low and deep, his hands sliding up my spine, stopping just above the curve of my ass.
“Helena—”
“Shh,” I murmured, pressing my forehead to his. “Just feel.”
And I did.
I felt the heat of his body, the pulse of his magic, the steady rhythm of his heart. I felt the bond—not as a chain, not as a curse, but as a choice. *My* choice. And for the first time, I didn’t fight it. I let it in. Let it fill me. Let it remind me that I wasn’t alone.
“I’m not going anywhere,” I whispered.
“Neither am I,” he said.
And then—
We stepped into the shadows.
—
The Summer Court was not a place.
It was a *dream*.
One moment, we stood in the ruins of the Shadow Vault, the wind howling through stone. The next—
We were *there*.
Not through magic. Not through portals.
Through *invitation*.
The air was thick with perfume—jasmine, honey, something darker, something *sweet*. The ground was not stone, not earth, but moss so soft it swallowed our boots. Trees rose around us, their trunks twisted like lovers entwined, their leaves glowing with bioluminescent light. Flowers bloomed in impossible colors—purple that pulsed like a heartbeat, red that shimmered like blood, gold that burned like fire. And above—
No sky.
Just a dome of living light, shifting, swirling, like a thousand fireflies caught in glass.
“Don’t breathe too deep,” Cassian murmured, his hand tightening on mine. “The air is laced with glamour. It’ll make you see things. Feel things. *Want* things.”
“Then I’ll want you,” I said, squeezing his hand. “And that’s not a lie.”
He didn’t smile. Just kept his crimson eyes scanning the shadows, his fangs pressing against his lower lip in a rare show of tension. The bond hummed between us—alive, steady, *real*—but the land resisted it. The magic here was old. Not dark. Not evil. But *hungry*. It wanted to be fed. With desire. With pain. With *oaths*.
And then—
She appeared.
Not from the trees. Not from the flowers.
From the *light*.
One moment, nothing. The next—she stood before us, her form shifting, flickering, like she was made of smoke and starlight. Tall. Slender. Her skin pale as moonlight, her hair a cascade of silver and gold, her eyes like frozen lakes. She wore no crown. No armor. Just a gown of living vines, their thorns glinting like daggers, their blossoms dripping nectar that sizzled where it touched the moss.
And when she smiled—
It was beautiful.
And terrible.
“Welcome,” she said, her voice like silk over steel. “Helena Vale-Orren. Cassian Vale. You’ve been… *expected*.”
“You’re the Queen of Summer,” I said, not flinching. “Not a host. A hunter.”
She laughed—low, rich, dangerous. “And you’re the queen who rewrote fate. Not a guest. A *challenge*.”
“Then let’s skip the games,” I said. “You took someone. You want something. Name it.”
Her smile widened. “I want *truth*. The Summer Court thrives on secrets. On lies. On *desire*. And you—” her gaze flicked to Cassian—“you’ve built a kingdom on love. On loyalty. On *choice*. It’s… *boring*.”
“Then leave us,” Cassian said, stepping forward. “We’re not here to entertain you.”
“No,” she agreed. “You’re here to *prove* something.”
“What?” I asked.
“That your bond is real,” she said. “That it’s not just magic. Not just blood. Not just *fate*. That it can survive… *temptation*.”
And then—
The ground split.
Not with fire. Not with force.
With *beauty*.
A chasm opened—wide, deep, glowing with golden light. And from it—
They rose.
Not soldiers. Not beasts.
*Lovers*.
Men and women, their bodies entwined, their skin glowing, their eyes half-lidded with pleasure. They floated above the chasm, their hands reaching, their mouths whispering promises in languages I didn’t know but *understood*. And as they passed—
Their scent hit me.
Not perfume. Not magic.
*Desire*.
Raw. Electric. *Unstoppable*.
My breath came fast. My skin burned. My *pussy* ached.
“Don’t look,” Cassian growled, pulling me close. “It’s not real. It’s glamour.”
But it felt real.
And then—
She stepped forward.
The doppelgänger.
My face. My body. My *fire*.
But not me.
Her eyes were darker. Her smile sharper. Her hands reached for Cassian, not me.
“She’s yours,” the Summer Queen said. “If you want her. One touch. One kiss. One night. And the debt is paid. The bond is *tested*. And you—” she turned to me—“can walk away. Free. Unchanged.”
My heart stuttered.
“And if I say no?”
“Then she dies,” the Queen said, her voice soft. “Slowly. Painfully. And you’ll watch.”
And then—
The doppelgänger screamed.
Not in fear.
In *pleasure*.
Her body arched, her back bowing, her mouth open in a silent cry as golden vines wrapped around her, *penetrating* her, *filling* her, driving her higher, deeper, until she was sobbing, her body trembling, her magic surging.
And Cassian—
He *growled*.
Not in anger.
In *need*.
His fangs extended. His eyes burned crimson. His hand tightened on my hip, his thumb brushing the edge of my thigh.
“Cassian—”
“Don’t,” he said, voice rough. “Don’t ask me to choose.”
But I wasn’t.
Because I already had.
“No,” I said, stepping forward. “You don’t get to test us. You don’t get to *break* us. You don’t get to *touch* what’s mine.”
The Queen didn’t flinch. Just smiled. “And what will you do, little queen? Kill me? You can’t. I’m Fae. I’m eternal.”
“No,” I said. “But I can *expose* you.”
And then—
I reached into my coat.
Not for the bloodsteel blade.
For the mirror.
Small. Silver. Etched with runes of binding. The one that had trapped Vexis. The one the Omega had given me.
I held it up.
And the Summer Queen’s reflection—*flickered*.
“What is that?” she asked, her voice sharper now.
“A mirror,” I said. “But not for vanity. For truth.”
“You can’t trap me.”
“No,” I said. “But I can *reflect* you.”
And then—
I stepped forward.
Not toward the Queen.
Toward the *doppelgänger*.
“You want to talk about lies?” I said, my voice rising. “Let’s talk about yours. You told me you’d kill her. You told me you’d test our bond. But you never said it would be at the cost of your *own* power. You never said you’d use *my* face to feed your hunger. You never said you’d twist *desire* into a weapon.”
Her smile faltered.
“You’re not a queen,” I said. “You’re a parasite. You feed on need. On weakness. On *loneliness*. And you thought I was weak. You thought I’d break. You thought I’d choose *her* over him.”
“And didn’t you?” she sneered.
“No,” I said. “I chose *me*. I chose *us*. And that’s something you’ll never understand.”
And then—
I pressed the mirror to the doppelgänger’s chest.
Not gently.
With *force*.
A crack—sharp, final—ripped through the Summer Court. The runes on the mirror flared, golden and radiant, and the doppelgänger screamed—not in pain, but in *recognition*. Her form flickered. Her magic unraveled. And then—
She was gone.
Not dead.
Unmade.
And the mirror—
It darkened.
Then glowed faintly.
With her face.
Trapped.
“You can’t do this,” the Summer Queen hissed, her form shifting, flickering. “I am eternal. I am *unbreakable*.”
“Nothing’s unbreakable,” I said. “Not even you.”
And then—
I turned the mirror toward her.
And her reflection—
It *shattered*.
Not the glass.
Her.
Her form cracked, split, unraveled into smoke and light. The Summer Court trembled. The flowers wilted. The vines withered. The dome of light flickered, dimmed, then *burned*.
And then—
Silence.
Not the heavy quiet of a battlefield. Not the hush of reverence.
The silence of *victory*.
Cassian turned to me, his crimson eyes burning. “You trapped her.”
“Not trapped,” I said. “*Imprisoned*. In a mirror. For eternity.”
He didn’t smile. Just pulled me close, his arms wrapping around me, his breath warm against my neck. “You’re terrifying when you’re angry.”
“Good,” I said, pressing my forehead to his. “Because I’m not done.”
And then—
The mirror cracked.
Not from within.
From *outside*.
A hand—pale, delicate, *familiar*—reached through.
And then—
She stepped out.
The doppelgänger.
But not a glamour.
Not a lie.
*Real*.
“You didn’t trap me,” she said, her voice soft. “You *freed* me.”
My breath stalled.
“Who are you?”
She smiled—small, sad, real. “I’m the one they erased. The one who *chose* the vampire. The one who *loved* him. And you—” she touched the Mark on her chest—“you’re not just my heir.
You’re my *daughter*.”
And I knew.
The fight wasn’t over.
But I wasn’t alone.
—
Later, in the dark, I woke with his scent on my skin, my thighs trembling, and a single drop of his blood on my lip.
I didn’t remember how it got there.
And Cassian, watching from the shadows, whispered, “You were always mine. You just didn’t know it yet.”
But someone wants the contract used, not broken. And they’ll destroy Helena to keep it alive.