IRIS
The ride back to the stronghold was a special kind of hell. The cool night air, which should have been a balm on my overheated skin, felt like a thousand tiny needles, each one a reminder of the magical storm that had just passed. Kaelen rode a powerful black stallion a few feet to my left, a silent, brooding presence. The space between us was a chasm, wider and more treacherous than any we had physically crossed. It was filled with the ghost of that kiss—the explosive, surrendering collision of magic and desire that had shattered the negotiation cage and, in the process, shattered something inside me as well.
Every time I risked a glance at him, his profile was a hard, chiseled mask in the moonlight, his jaw set in a rigid line. He was radiating a potent cocktail of emotions I could feel through the bond as a low, constant thrum: frustration, a possessive anger that was directed as much at himself as at the situation, and a raw, unsated lust that was a mirror to my own. My body still hummed with the aftershocks of our shared power, a deep, aching need that settled low in my belly and refused to be ignored. The memory of his hands on my face, of his mouth claiming mine, was a brand on my senses.
We had been manipulated. Used. Valerius had forced our hand, orchestrating a magical and seductive blackmail to ensure his bargain was sealed not just with words, but with a raw, primal binding. He had seen our weakness, our volatile attraction, and had exploited it with surgical precision. And the worst part was that a part of me, a dark, shameful part, was grateful. It had taken a magical trap to finally shatter the walls between us, to force a surrender I was too proud and too frightened to make on my own.
The silence in the stronghold upon our return was a stark contrast to the charged tension of the ride. Ronan met us at the stables, his sharp gaze taking in our rigid postures, the grim set of our mouths, and the heavy, unspoken weight that hung between us. He didn't ask for details, simply giving a curt nod and falling into step behind us as we strode through the torch-lit corridors. He was a soldier, and he knew when a battle had been lost, even if he didn't yet know the nature of the fight.
I expected Kaelen to retreat to his war room, to lose himself in maps and strategy, the way he always did when he was cornered. But instead, he led us not to our chambers, but to a smaller, more formal sitting room I hadn't seen before. It was elegantly appointed, but without the cold, imposing opulence of the other state rooms. It felt… lived-in. Comfortable, even.
And a woman was waiting for us.
She was seated in a high-backed chair by the hearth, a cup of what smelled like chamomile tea cradled in her hands. She was human, perhaps in her late forties, with laugh lines around her sharp, intelligent eyes and streaks of silver in her dark, tightly coiled hair. She was dressed in a simple but impeccably tailored pantsuit, her posture relaxed but radiating an air of unshakable authority. She looked up as we entered, her gaze sweeping over Kaelen, then landing on me with a cool, assessing curiosity.
"Kaelen," she said, her voice a calm, measured alto. She had a faint, crisp accent, difficult to place, that spoke of a life spent in many different capitals. "I was beginning to wonder if you'd forgotten our appointment."
"Ambassador Sterling," Kaelen said, his voice the flat, neutral tone of a king, but I could feel the spike of his annoyance through the bond. He had forgotten. The events at the waystation had driven everything else from his mind.
He gestured to the woman. "Iris, this is Ambassador Elena Sterling. She represents the human interests on the Supernatural Council."
I felt a jolt of surprise. I had met the Vampire Regent and seen the Fae contingent, but I had yet to be formally introduced to the human representative. I had pictured an older man, a stuffy politician. This woman was something else entirely. Her eyes, a clear, observant hazel, missed nothing. They took in my disheveled state, the faint bruising on my lips, the tense way I stood beside the Lycan King, and filed it all away with a neutral, unreadable expression.
"Ambassador," I said, giving a small, formal nod. My voice was hoarse, and I cleared my throat, feeling a flush of heat climb my neck. I must look like I’d been through a physical and emotional wringer. Which, I supposed, I had.
"A pleasure to finally make your acquaintance, Iris," she said, taking a sip of her tea. Her use of my first name was a deliberate, subtle move. It was a statement of equality. She wasn't treating me like a consort or a pet; she was treating me like an individual. "Your arrival has certainly… shaken things up. It makes for fascinating Council sessions."
"I'm sure it does," I said, my voice laced with a dryness I didn't have to fake.
Kaelen moved to a sideboard, pouring himself a glass of water. His movements were stiff, jerky. "The Ambassador is here to discuss the human perspective on Marius's recent activities," he said, his tone making it clear this was a tedious but necessary formality.
"And to offer a perspective on your new… union," Sterling added, her gaze unwavering on me. "From a purely strategic standpoint, of course. Inter-species bonds are rare. And volatile."
"You have no idea," I muttered under my breath, earning a sharp, warning glance from Kaelen.
Sterling, however, let out a low, throaty chuckle. It was a surprisingly warm sound. "Oh, I think I have some idea. I've been observing supernatural politics for thirty years. I've seen arranged marriages, blood pacts, and Fae word-games that have tied entire nations together. I've also seen them all fall apart, usually in a spectacularly bloody fashion."
She set her cup down and leaned forward, her elbows resting on her knees, her expression turning serious. "Which is why I'm here. The human world has a vested interest in stability. We are, for the most part, blissfully unaware of the power struggles that threaten to spill over into our cities. But a plague, Iris? A magical plague targeting humans? That's not something we can ignore. That's an existential threat."
My respect for her ticked up several notches. She wasn't just a bureaucrat; she was a pragmatist who understood the stakes. "Valerius told you," I stated.
"Valerius is many things, but he is not a liar," she confirmed. "He and I have a… professional understanding. We both value a world that doesn't burn. He came to me before he contacted you. He wanted to ensure the human bloc would support his move against Marius at the Council. We will."
Kaelen turned from the sideboard, his glass of water forgotten in his hand. "You will support a vampire against another vampire? In a power struggle within the Council?" His voice was laced with skepticism.
"We will support stability over chaos," Sterling corrected smoothly. "Marius is chaos. He represents a purist, expansionist ideology that is a direct threat to human sovereignty. He sees us as cattle. You, Lycan King, for all your… intimidating presence… you see us as neighbors. Annoying, sometimes fragile neighbors, but neighbors nonetheless. I'll take a predictable neighbor over a slavering wolf at the door every time."
The analogy was blunt, but accurate. I found myself relaxing slightly for the first time since we’d entered the room. Elena Sterling was an ally. A quiet, powerful, and completely unexpected one.
"We need to locate and destroy the Chalice before Marius can use it," I said, taking a step forward, my mind shifting from the emotional turmoil of the ride to the cold, hard reality of our mission. "He's keeping it in the Sepulcher of the First Blood, beneath Aeridor."
Sterling's eyebrows rose in faint admiration. "Valerius gave you that? He must be more concerned than I thought. The Sepulcher is a fortress. Old vampire territory. Protected by blood magic and fanatics."
"It is also a target," Kaelen said, his voice the hard, decisive tone of the commander. He had finally set aside his personal turmoil and was focusing on the problem. The shift was tangible, the air in the room clearing as he stepped into his role as a king. "We will need a plan. A coordinated assault."
"And you will need someone on the inside," Sterling said, her gaze meeting his directly. "Someone who can navigate the human elements of the city above. Someone who can create a diversion, draw attention away from the sewer entrances and old tunnels that lead to the Sepulcher."
She paused, letting the offer hang in the air. "The human Ambassador's office has… resources. People who are loyal not to a faction, but to the idea of peace. To a world where our children don't have to learn about magical plagues in their history books. Let me help you, Kaelen. Let us help you."
She looked at me then, her expression softening slightly, the cool, assessing gaze giving way to something that looked remarkably like empathy. "And let me help you, Iris. Because from where I'm sitting, you look like you're standing on the front line of a war you never asked for, with only a tyrant for a shield. You could use a friend."
The offer was so direct, so unexpectedly kind, that it almost broke the fragile composure I had managed to piece back together. A friend. In this gilded cage of enemies and manipulations, the word sounded like a foreign language. One I desperately wanted to learn.
I looked at Kaelen, expecting to see a possessive denial, a cold refusal to accept help from a human, especially on my behalf. But he was watching me, his silver eyes complex and unreadable. He felt my reaction through the bond—the surge of hope, the desperate, lonely ache for an ally. He saw the way Ambassador Sterling’s words had landed, not as an insult to his authority, but as a lifeline to me.
He gave a slow, deliberate nod. A gesture of acceptance. Of trust. "We will need all the allies we can get," he said, his voice a low rumble. "Your help would be… appreciated, Ambassador."
The concession was monumental. It was a public acknowledgment that he couldn't protect me from every threat, that he needed help. And in doing so, he was giving me something far more valuable than an apology or a kiss. He was giving me a space to build my own strength, my own alliances. He was giving me the freedom to be more than just his.
Elena Sterling gave a brisk, satisfied nod, as if a vital piece on the board had just been moved into place. "Excellent. I will begin making arrangements. I'll be in touch." She rose, her movement fluid and efficient. "Kaelen. Iris." She gave us each a final, measured look, before turning and striding from the room, leaving behind the faint scent of chamomile and the potent, lingering promise of an unexpected, and desperately needed, friendship.