The suite was quiet after Maeve left, but the silence wasn’t peaceful. It was the kind of stillness that comes before a storm—tense, coiled, waiting to break. The blood-crystals in the walls hummed faintly, their crimson glow pulsing like a heartbeat. The hearth fire had burned low, casting long shadows across the stone floor, shadows that looked too much like claws. I stood at the balcony, my fingers gripping the railing, my breath shallow, my magic flaring in pulses beneath my skin. The runes on my arms still glowed faintly, reacting to the shift in my blood, in my soul. I could feel the Crown now—distant, dormant, but alive. It knew me. It remembered me. And it was waiting.
Kaelen stood behind me, his presence a wall, a vow. He didn’t touch me. Didn’t speak. Just stood there, his storm-gray eyes fixed on my back, his coat open, his fangs slightly visible. The bond hummed between us—low, steady, alive—but he didn’t reach for me. Didn’t try to soothe. He knew better.
I wasn’t fragile.
I wasn’t broken.
I was awake.
And the truth was a blade in my ribs.
“You let them die,” I said, my voice breaking.
He didn’t flinch. Just stepped closer, his hands at his sides, his fangs retracted. “I did.”
“But you didn’t kill them,” I whispered.
“No,” he said, his voice raw. “I didn’t. But I let the world believe I did. Because if the truth came out—if they knew Dain had stolen the Crown—the Council would’ve shattered. War would’ve followed. Millions would’ve died.”
I closed my eyes.
Because he was right.
And that terrified me more than any lie ever could.
“You let me hate you,” I said.
“And I let you,” he said. “Because you needed it. You needed your fire. Your rage. Your purpose. And if I’d told you the truth—”
“I would’ve walked away,” I said, opening my eyes. “I would’ve burned it all down before I let myself believe I was anything more than a weapon.”
“Exactly,” he said. “And now that the magic has spoken, now that the blood has sung—you can’t deny it.”
I turned to him, my violet eyes blazing. “I’m not just the heir.”
“No,” he said, stepping into me. “You’re the true sovereign. The Blood Crown will answer to no one else.”
“And you took it,” I said, my voice low, dangerous. “You let me believe you were the monster.”
“I am the monster,” he said, his hand cupping my jaw, his thumb brushing my lower lip. “But I’m also yours. And I’ve always been.”
My breath caught.
Because he was right.
And that terrified me more than any truth ever could.
—
I didn’t step away.
Didn’t pull back.
Just stood there, my body aching with the memory of Dain’s truth-serum, my magic flaring in pulses beneath my skin. His touch was gentle—too gentle—but it sent a jolt through me, like lightning under my skin. The bond flared, a quiet, insistent pulse, and I felt it—his relief, his fear, his hunger.
“You should’ve told me,” I said, my voice breaking.
“And what would you have done if I had?” he asked, stepping closer. “Would you have believed me? Or would you have thought it was another lie?”
“I don’t know,” I said, my fingers trembling. “But I deserve the truth. Not lies wrapped in fate.”
“It wasn’t a lie,” he said, his storm-gray eyes burning. “The bond is real. The fire between us is real. The way I feel—” He cut himself off, jaw tightening. “I didn’t hide who you were to manipulate you. I hid it because I knew you wouldn’t believe me. Not then. Not until the magic confirmed it.”
“And if it hadn’t?” I asked, stepping into him. “If the blood had rejected me? If the runes hadn’t flared? Would you have told me then?”
He didn’t flinch. Just held my gaze. “No. Because some truths aren’t meant to be forced. They’re meant to be found.”
My breath caught.
Because he was right.
And that terrified me more than any lie ever could.
I would’ve called him a liar. I would’ve walked away. I would’ve burned it all down before I let myself believe I was anything more than a weapon.
But now—now that the magic had spoken, now that the blood had sung—I couldn’t deny it.
I was Onyx Vale.
Daughter of Elira.
Heir to the Blood Crown.
And the man I’d sworn to destroy was the only one who’d ever tried to save me.
—
“You let me believe I was here to destroy you,” I said, my voice low. “You let me hate you. You let me fight you—while knowing I was the one person who could take everything from you.”
“I didn’t let you do anything,” he said, stepping closer. “You chose every step. You chose your rage. Your vengeance. Your fire. And now you’ve chosen your truth.”
“And what if I hadn’t?” I whispered. “What if I’d walked away before the ritual? What if I’d never known?”
“Then I’d have waited,” he said. “Until you were ready. Until you asked.”
“And if I never had?”
“Then I’d have died with the secret,” he said. “Because some truths aren’t meant to be forced. They’re meant to be found.”
I closed my eyes.
And then—
I stepped into him.
Not with anger. Not with fire.
With need.
My hands fisted in his coat, pulling me down, my lips crashing into his. The kiss wasn’t gentle. Wasn’t soft. It was war. My tongue swept inside, tasting, conquering, my magic flaring in pulses of crimson light. The runes on my arms glowed, reacting to the shift in my heart, in my soul.
He kissed me back like he’d been starving.
Like he’d been waiting.
His hands tangled in my hair, holding me in place as he deepened the kiss, his fangs grazing my lip, drawing a bead of blood. The bond screamed to life, a surge of heat that made my vision blur. My core tightened, my body arching into his, my thighs pressing together in a futile attempt to ease the ache.
And then—
I pulled back.
Just enough to breathe.
“I don’t forgive you,” I said, my voice raw. “Not for what you did. Not for what you let happen.”
“I know,” he said, his thumb brushing my lower lip. “But you’re choosing me anyway.”
“I am,” I said. “And you’re choosing me too.”
He smiled—a slow, dangerous thing. “Always.”
And as I leaned into him, the scent of jasmine and iron wrapping around us like a vow, I realized something:
The fire wasn’t coming to burn me down.
It was here to remake me.
And I was ready.
—
The silence after the kiss was worse than any scream.
Not the quiet of peace. Not the hush of reverence. But the stillness of a storm held at bay—tense, coiled, waiting to break. The suite was quiet, the blood-crystals dim, the hearth fire low. Kaelen stood beside me, his presence a wall, a vow. He didn’t touch me. Didn’t speak. Just kept pace, his storm-gray eyes scanning the corridors, his body tense, ready. The bond hummed between us—low, steady, alive—but he didn’t reach for me. Didn’t try to soothe. He knew better.
I wasn’t fragile.
I wasn’t broken.
I was awake.
And the truth was a blade in my ribs.
I’d come here to burn the Obsidian Court to the ground.
But I hadn’t come to destroy Kaelen.
I’d come to reclaim what was mine.
And now—now that the magic had spoken, now that the blood had sung—I realized something:
I wasn’t just the heir to the Blood Crown.
I was its true sovereign.
And Kaelen—cold, ruthless, guilty Kaelen—had known.
He’d known who I was.
He’d known what I was.
And he’d let me believe I was here to destroy him.
“You should’ve told me,” I said, my voice low, steady.
He didn’t look at me. Just kept walking. “And what would you have done if I had?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “But I deserve the truth. Not lies wrapped in fate.”
“It wasn’t a lie,” he said, stopping, turning to face me. “The bond is real. The fire between us is real. The way I feel—” He cut himself off, jaw tightening. “I didn’t hide who you were to manipulate you. I hid it because I knew you wouldn’t believe me. Not then. Not until the magic confirmed it.”
“And if it hadn’t?” I asked, stepping into him. “If the blood had rejected me? If the runes hadn’t flared? Would you have told me then?”
He didn’t flinch. Just held my gaze. “No. Because some truths aren’t meant to be forced. They’re meant to be found.”
My breath caught.
Because he was right.
And that terrified me more than any lie ever could.
I would’ve called him a liar. I would’ve walked away. I would’ve burned it all down before I let myself believe I was anything more than a weapon.
But now—now that the magic had spoken, now that the blood had sung—I couldn’t deny it.
I was Onyx Vale.
Daughter of Elira.
Heir to the Blood Crown.
And the man I’d sworn to destroy was the only one who’d ever tried to save me.
—
The suite was quiet when we returned.
Too quiet.
No whispers. No shadows. No lingering scent of honeysuckle to warn me of Lysara’s games. Just the soft crackle of the hearth, the faint hum of the blood-crystals in the walls, the slow, steady pulse of the bond beneath my skin.
I didn’t sit. Didn’t speak.
Just paced, my boots silent on the stone, my fingers tracing the edge of the dagger at my hip. The runes on my arms still glowed faintly, reacting to the shift in my blood, in my soul. I could feel the Crown now—distant, dormant, but alive. It knew me. It remembered me. And it was waiting.
Kaelen stood by the balcony, his back to me, his coat open, his hands resting on the railing. The moon hung low over Vienna, casting silver light across his shoulders, his hair, the sharp line of his jaw. He looked like a king. A monster. A man who’d carried the weight of a stolen crown for too long.
And he was mine.
Not by bond.
Not by magic.
By choice.
“They’ll come for me,” I said, stopping. “The Council. Lysara. Dain. They won’t let a hybrid queen take the throne.”
“Then they’ll die,” he said, turning. “Every last one.”
I almost smiled. “You’d burn the world for me?”
“I already have,” he said, stepping closer. “And I’d do it again.”
The bond flared—hot, sudden—and I felt it. Not just his words. His truth. He wasn’t just protecting me. He wasn’t just claiming me.
He was fighting for me.
And gods help me, I wanted to believe him.
But the doubt was still there, coiled tight in my chest like a serpent.
What if he was wrong?
What if I wasn’t strong enough?
What if the Crown rejected me?
Before I could stop myself, I stepped into him, my hands fisting in his coat, my lips crashing into his. The kiss wasn’t gentle. Wasn’t soft. It was war. My tongue swept inside, tasting, conquering, my magic flaring in pulses of crimson light. The runes on my arms glowed, reacting to the shift in my heart, in my soul.
He kissed me back like he’d been starving.
Like he’d been waiting.
His hands tangled in my hair, holding me in place as he deepened the kiss, his fangs grazing my lip, drawing a bead of blood. The bond screamed to life, a surge of heat that made my vision blur. My core tightened, my body arching into his, my thighs pressing together in a futile attempt to ease the ache.
And then—
A sound.
A whisper.
We broke apart.
At the door stood Maeve.
My childhood friend. My sister in all but blood. Her eyes were wide, her face pale, a single scroll clutched to her chest. She’d seen everything. The kiss. The magic. The way my body had arched into his like I was starving.
“Onyx,” she whispered.
I pulled back, my breath coming fast, my lips still tingling from his touch. “Maeve. What is it?”
She didn’t answer. Just stepped inside, closing the door behind her, and held out the scroll.
Sealed with crimson wax.
Shaped like a serpent coiled around a rose.
Dain’s mark.
My blood ran cold.
“It appeared on my bed,” Maeve said, her voice low. “No note. No warning. Just… this.”
I took it, my fingers trembling. The wax was still warm, the scent of old blood and iron clinging to the paper. I didn’t need to open it to know what it said.
But I did anyway.
Inside, a single line, written in a hand I recognized instantly:
Stop digging. Or I’ll bury you with your parents.
No signature.
No threat.
Just a promise.
And I believed him.
Because Dain wasn’t just my uncle.
He was the man who’d betrayed our family.
Who’d framed me.
Who’d taken the Blood Crown and left me to burn.
And now that the magic had spoken, now that the blood had sung—he was afraid.
Because he knew.
He knew I was close.
—
Kaelen took the scroll from my hand, his storm-gray eyes narrowing as he read the message. His fangs lengthened, shadows coiling at his feet. “He’s watching,” he said, his voice low, dangerous. “He knows about the Blood Oath. He knows who you are.”
“And he’s afraid,” I said, my voice steady. “Which means we’re close.”
“Or it’s a trap,” Maeve said, stepping forward. “He’s always been good at manipulation. He could be trying to lure you out. To isolate you.”
“He’s not wrong,” Kaelen said. “Dain’s not reckless. If he’s sending a warning, it’s because he’s desperate.”
“Then we use it,” I said, stepping to the balcony. “We let him think he’s in control. We let him think he’s winning. And then—” I turned, my violet eyes locking onto his. “We take everything from him.”
Kaelen didn’t smile. Just stepped into me, his hand cupping my jaw, his thumb brushing my lower lip. “You’re not just a queen,” he said, his voice rough. “You’re a storm. And I’m not letting you face him alone.”
My breath caught.
Because he was right.
I wasn’t just Onyx Vale.
I wasn’t just the heir.
I was fire.
I was war.
And I was ready.
—
The ambush came at dawn.
Not with warning. Not with sound.
With silence.
I was alone on the balcony, watching the first light creep over Vienna, the bond humming beneath my skin, a quiet, constant pulse. Kaelen was in the war room, finalizing plans for the next Council meeting. Maeve had returned to the Wychwood Coven to gather intel. I was supposed to be safe. Guarded. Protected.
But I wasn’t.
One second, I was breathing in the cold morning air, the runes on my arms glowing faintly, the mark on my neck warm beneath my fingers.
The next—
Darkness.
Not the absence of light.
A presence. Thick. Smothering. Alive.
I tried to scream, but my voice was gone. Tried to move, but my limbs were frozen. Tried to reach for the bond, but it was… dulled, like someone had wrapped it in lead.
And then I felt it.
A hand.
Not rough. Not cruel.
Familiar.
“Hello, niece,” Dain whispered, his breath hot against my ear. “Did you really think you could take back what’s mine?”
My blood turned to ice.
“You’re going to answer some questions,” he said, his fingers tightening around my throat. “And if you don’t… well, let’s just say your beloved king won’t find you in time to save you.”
And then—
We were gone.
Not teleported. Not shadow-walked.
Dragged through the Veil—the hidden passageway between realms, used only by the highest fae nobles. The air was thick with the scent of old magic and decay, the walls pulsing with golden sigils that burned against my skin. I couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak. couldn’t even scream.
But I could feel him.
Kaelen.
Distant. Faint. Hurting.
The bond was screaming.
And I was being torn away from it.
—
When I woke, I was in the Hollow Thorne.
The ancient fae stronghold, hidden deep in the Scottish Highlands. The air was thick with the scent of moss and magic, the walls carved from living stone, the ceiling arching high above like the ribs of some great beast. Torches flickered with golden flame, casting long, shifting shadows that made it impossible to tell where the walls ended and the void began.
I was chained to a stone slab, my wrists bound with silver cords laced with truth-serum. My magic was suppressed, the runes on my arms dim, sluggish, like they were being drained from the air. The bond—once a constant thrum—was now a faint, desperate pulse, like a heartbeat on the edge of stopping.
And Dain stood over me.
My uncle. The man who’d betrayed our family. Who’d framed me. Who’d taken the Blood Crown and left me to burn.
He looked older than I remembered. His silver hair was longer, his violet eyes colder, his smile sharper.
“You’ve grown,” he said, circling the slab. “Stronger. More dangerous. Just like your mother.”
I didn’t answer.
Just glared at him, my jaw tight, my breath shallow.
“Don’t bother fighting the chains,” he said. “The silver’s laced with vervain and truth-serum. One drop in your blood, and you’ll tell me everything I want to know.”
“Go to hell,” I spat.
He laughed—low, melodic, and utterly false. “Oh, Onyx. Still so defiant. Still so stupid. Do you really think your little bond can save you? Do you really think Kaelen will come for you?”
“He will,” I said, my voice breaking. “And when he does, he’ll destroy you.”
“Or he’ll die trying,” Dain said, stepping closer. “And you’ll be left with nothing but the truth.”
“Which is?”
“That you were never meant to rule,” he said, his fingers brushing my cheek. “That you were always meant to be a weapon. A tool. A pawn.”
My breath caught.
“But I’ll make you a deal,” he said, leaning down. “Tell me how to sever the bond. Tell me how to break Kaelen. And I’ll let you live.”
I clenched my fists. “Never.”
“Then we’ll do this the hard way,” he said, stepping back. “And you’ll scream his name before the night is through.”
And then—
The needle came.
Not silver. Not steel.
Gold.
Infused with truth-serum and fae magic. He didn’t speak. Just pressed it to my neck, slid it into my vein.
And the world exploded.
Not with pain.
With fire.
Heat flooded my body, my magic flaring in pulses of crimson light. The runes on my arms glowed, reacting to the shift in my blood, in my soul. And the bond—once faint—screamed to life, a surge of heat, of pain, of pure, unfiltered need.
I could feel him.
Kaelen.
Distant. Faint. Hurting.
And I knew.
Not just that he was coming.
But that he would burn the world to find me.
And Dain knew it too.
Because when I looked up, his smile was gone.
Replaced by fear.
“Tell me,” he said, his voice low. “How to break the bond.”
I didn’t answer.
Just smiled.
Because I knew something he didn’t.
The bond wasn’t just magic.
It was love.
And no amount of truth-serum could make me betray that.
—
The torture lasted for hours.
Needle after needle. Question after question. Pain after pain.
But I didn’t break.
Not for him.
Not for the Crown.
Not for anything.
Because I had one thing he didn’t.
Hope.
And it burned brighter than any fire.
—
And then—
Dain leaned close, his breath hot against my ear. “You’ll never take back what’s mine.”
And in the silence, I whispered the words I’d never say to his face:
“Watch me.”