The peace didn’t last.
It never does.
Three days after the Blood Moon Festival, after the fire had spoken in silver tongues, after the crowd had bowed not to power but to truth, after Kael had kissed me on the balcony while the stars burned cold above—three days of quiet, of whispered promises, of his hand brushing mine as we walked the torch-lit corridors like we belonged to each other—three days of *almost believing* it was over—
And then, he arrived.
Prince Lysander of the Seelie Court.
He stepped into the Citadel at dawn, his silver cloak catching the wind like wings, his eyes the color of winter sky—pale, cold, impossible to read. He wasn’t alone. A retinue of Fae guards flanked him, their glamours flickering like dying embers, their presence humming with ancient power. But it was *him* who froze the air in my lungs, who made the bond beneath my skin flare with something I couldn’t name—unease, maybe. Or dread.
“You didn’t tell me he was coming,” I said, my voice low, my hand instinctively pressing to my stomach. The child’s warmth pulsed—steady, calm—but something in its rhythm had shifted. Not fear. Not anger. *Recognition*.
Kael didn’t look at me. Just kept his golden eyes locked on the prince as he descended the steps of the dais, his coat pulled tight, his movements slow, deliberate. “I didn’t know,” he said. “Not until this morning.”
“And you let him in?” I demanded, stepping beside him. “After everything? After Vexis? After the void? You let a *Seelie prince* walk into our home like he owns it?”
“He’s here under truce,” Kael said, his voice rough. “Under the Blood Moon Accord. If I turn him away, it’s an act of war.”
“And if he’s not here in peace?” I shot back. “If he’s here to test us? To *break* us?”
He didn’t answer. Just reached for my hand—just for a second—his fingers brushing mine, warm, grounding. The bond flared, a deeper pulse, richer, stronger. My magic rose, not in fire, not in light, but in *recognition*. As if my power knew what my mind refused to admit.
That I wasn’t just fighting for the bond.
I was fighting for *us*.
And that thought—
That thought was more dangerous than any blade.
Lysander reached the courtyard as the first light of dawn broke over the Citadel, painting the stone spires in blood. The Northern Packs stood in formation, their coats dark, their eyes burning with loyalty. The vampires watched from the upper balconies, their faces impassive. The Fae lingered in the shadows, their glamours shifting like smoke. And then—
They saw him.
The crowd stilled. The whispers died. Every eye turned to the prince—his silver hair pulled back, his features sharp as glass, his presence humming with something old, something *hungry*. And then—to me. To the bond mark on my neck—glowing faintly, pulsing in time with my heartbeat. And to Kael. To his hand, still gripping mine. To the way he stood beside me, not in front, not behind, but *equal*.
“Prince Lysander,” the High Witch declared, stepping forward. “You are welcome under the truce. Speak your purpose.”
He didn’t bow. Just tilted his head, his winter-sky eyes scanning the gathering. And then—
They landed on me.
Not with curiosity.
Not with respect.
With *hunger*.
“I come to honor the truce,” he said, his voice like wind through frozen leaves. “To witness the bond. To see if the Blood-Marked Consort is truly worthy of her title.”
My breath stilled.
Kael didn’t flinch. Just stepped into me, his body a furnace, his arm sliding around my waist, pulling me against him. The bond flared—a surge of heat that made the ground tremble beneath our feet. My magic surged, rising like a tide, drawn to his like it had its own will.
“She is,” he said, his voice low. “And she doesn’t need your approval.”
Lysander smiled—a cold, sharp thing that didn’t reach his eyes. “Perhaps not. But the Court demands proof. A test. A trial of loyalty.”
“There will be no trial,” Kael growled. “The bond is sealed. The truce is honored. You have no authority here.”
“But I do,” Lysander said, stepping forward. “By ancient law. If a consort’s loyalty is questioned, the Fae Court may demand a trial. And if she fails—”
“Then the bond breaks,” I said, stepping in front of Kael. My voice was steady. Calm. “And I die with it.”
He didn’t flinch. Just kept his eyes on me, his winter-sky gaze piercing. “Then you should have no fear. Unless, of course, your loyalty *is* in question.”
My jaw tightened.
He wasn’t just testing the bond.
He was testing *me*.
And worse—
He was *enjoying* it.
“You want a trial?” I said, lifting my chin. “Then give it. But know this—when I stand before the Fae High Court and they see the truth in my blood, in my magic, in my child—you will be the one who looks weak.”
The courtyard erupted.
Some hissed. Some gasped. Some stepped back in fear.
But Lysander—
He just smiled.
“A child?” he asked, his voice soft. “How… *delicate*. And how dangerous. A half-breed. A witch-wolf. A creature of moonfire and shadow. Tell me, Opal—does Kael know what you’ve done? What you’ve *allowed*?”
My breath caught.
“The child is *ours*,” Kael said, stepping beside me. “And it’s none of your concern.”
“But it is,” Lysander said, stepping closer. “Because if the child’s magic is unstable, if it threatens the balance, then the Court has the right to intervene. To *protect* the truce.”
“You don’t give a damn about the truce,” I said, stepping forward. “You’re here because you want me. Because you think you can take me. Because you think you can break him.”
He didn’t deny it. Just reached into his cloak and pulled out a vial—small, glass, filled with something dark and pulsing. Etched into the glass—
The sigil of the Seelie Court.
“This,” he said, holding it up, “is a memory. A gift. From your mother.”
My breath stilled.
“She asked me to give it to you,” he said, his voice low. “When the time was right. When you were ready. And now—”
“Liar,” I said, stepping forward. “My mother is alive. I’ve seen her. I’ve spoken to her. And she would *never* give you anything.”
“Wouldn’t she?” he asked, stepping closer. “Even to protect you? Even to keep you from making the same mistakes she did?”
My pulse spiked.
He was playing me. Manipulating me. Using my love for my mother like a weapon.
And it was working.
“Prove it,” I said, my voice breaking. “Show me the memory. Let me see her face. Let me hear her voice.”
He didn’t hesitate. Just uncorked the vial and poured the dark liquid into the scrying pool at the center of the courtyard.
The water turned black.
And then—
She appeared.
Mother.
Not as I remembered her. Not strong. Not fierce. Not the woman who had taught me the old words, who had sworn to protect me, who had fought to the end.
This was different.
She looked… broken. Her silver-blue eyes were dull, her face pale, her body trembling. She was in the void—trapped, not dead, but *suffering*. And then—
She spoke.
“Opal,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “If you’re seeing this, then I’m gone. And you’re with child. I don’t know who the father is. I don’t know if it’s safe. But I know one thing—Lysander is your only hope. He’s the only one who can protect you. Who can protect the child. Trust him. Obey him. Do whatever he says.”
My breath caught.
No.
This wasn’t real.
It was a lie. A trick. A glamour.
But the child—
The child flared.
Not pain.
Not fear.
Recognition.Its warmth surged, rising like a tide, syncing with the memory, with the vial, with *him*. My magic erupted—not in defense, not in attack—
But in *connection*.
And then—
Kael stepped in front of me.
“Enough,” he growled, his voice low. “You’ve said your piece. Now leave.”
Lysander didn’t flinch. Just smiled. “I haven’t finished. There’s one more thing.”
He reached into his cloak again—and pulled out a dagger.
Not just any dagger.
Mine.
The one I’d forged after the dream. The one etched with lunar sigils. The one I’d hidden beneath the floorboards of our chambers.
“You’ve been busy,” he said, holding it up. “Moonfire blades. Blood rituals. Forbidden magic. Tell me, Opal—how many more secrets are you keeping from your mate?”
My breath stilled.
How had he gotten it?
Who had betrayed me?
And then—
He did the unthinkable.
He pressed the blade to his palm—and cut.
Blood welled—dark, thick, *fae*—and dripped into the scrying pool.
And then—
The water turned silver.
And I saw it.
Not a memory.
Not a vision.
A *future*.
Me.
Standing in the Obsidian Chamber.
But not with Kael.
With Lysander.
His hand on my waist. My head tilted. His lips brushing my throat. The bond mark on my neck—fading, crumbling, turning to ash. And then—
Me, kneeling before the Fae High Court.
Swearing loyalty.
Swearing *obedience*.
And then—
The child.
Not in my arms.
But in *his*.
Its veins threaded with silver, its eyes glowing with fae light. And Lysander—
Smiling.
“The future is not set,” he said, his voice soft. “But it *can* be. If you choose wisely.”
My breath came in ragged gasps.
He wasn’t just threatening me.
He was offering me something.
Power. Protection. A way out.
And for a single, terrible second—
I *wanted* it.
Because I was tired.
Tired of fighting. Tired of lying. Tired of wondering if I’d made the right choice.
And then—
Kael’s hand found mine.
Warm. Grounding. *Real*.
“Don’t,” he said, his voice rough. “Don’t even think it.”
I didn’t answer.
Just pressed my hand to my stomach, where the child’s warmth pulsed—steady, calm, *unbroken*.
And then—
The bond flared.
Not in pain.
Not in fire.
But in *need*.
It wasn’t the heat cycle. Not the moon’s pull. Not magic.
It was *us*.
And for the first time, I didn’t fight it.
I just… let go.
My fingers tightened on Kael’s hand. My breath steadied. My magic rose—not in anger, not in fear—but in *truth*.
“You want a trial?” I said, stepping forward. “Then give it. But know this—when I stand before the Fae High Court and they see the truth in my blood, in my magic, in my child—you will be the one who looks weak.”
Lysander didn’t flinch. Just smiled. “Then let the trial begin.”
And then—
He turned and walked into the Citadel, his silver cloak flaring behind him.
And I—
I stood there.
Not helpless.
Not weak.
But *waiting*.
Because this wasn’t just his fight.
It was *ours*.
And I wasn’t going to lose.
We didn’t speak as we moved through the torch-lit corridors, the bond humming between us, the silence heavier than any words. My hand stayed low on my belly, my fingers pressed to that quiet warmth, that golden pulse. Kael walked beside me, his presence a wall, his silence heavier than any vow. He didn’t ask. Didn’t question. Just stayed. Watched. Waited.
And then—
We reached our chambers.
The fire roared to life as we crossed the threshold, the flames turning silver for a single, blinding second—*moonfire*, responding to the bond, to the truth, to *us*. Kael closed the door behind us, the lock clicking into place. The bond hummed between us, not as a curse.
But as a promise.
He didn’t speak. Just turned and pulled me into his chest, his arms locking around me, holding me like I was something fragile. Something his. My breath trembled. My heart broke. My fingers found the buttons of his coat, undoing them one by one. His skin was warm beneath my touch, his chest rising and falling with each ragged breath. He didn’t stop me. Just watched me, his gold eyes burning, his hands gripping my hips like I was something sacred. Something ours.
“Say it,” he whispered, his voice rough. “Say you want this. Say you want us.”
“I want you,” I said, my voice breaking. “I want this. I want everything.”
He didn’t hesitate.
He kissed me slow, deep, his hands tangling in my hair, his body pressing against mine. The bond flared—a surge of heat that made the ground tremble beneath our feet. My magic erupted, not in fire, not in light, but in pulse. Silver energy curled from my skin, not burning, not scorching—but revealing.
For a single, blinding second, the entire room was flooded with silver light—and in that light, I saw it.
The truth.
Not just in the bond.
Not just in the magic.
But in us.
His scars. His fears. His love.
And mine.
The hatred. The vengeance. The grief.
All of it—laid bare.
And then—
The light faded.
The room stilled.
And he was above me, his body a furnace, his eyes gold and burning. “Then let it burn,” he whispered. “Let it break. Let it remake us.”
“And if it destroys us?” I whispered.
“Then we’ll burn together,” he said, stepping closer. “But I won’t live in the dark.”
And then—
The bond flared.
Not in pain.
Not in fire.
But in need.
It wasn’t the heat cycle. Not the moon’s pull. Not magic.
It was us.
And for the first time, I didn’t fight it.
I just… let go.
My hands found his face, my fingers brushing his jaw, his scars, the rough edge of his stubble. His breath hitched. His body stilled. And then—
He kissed me back.
Slow. Soft. Deep.
No force. No magic. No bond.
Just need.
And as the fire burned low, its flames turning silver again, casting long shadows on the walls, I knew—
The game had changed.
Because now, it wasn’t just about revenge.
It wasn’t just about the bond.
It was about truth.
And I would burn the world to get her back.
But as I lay beside Kael, his arms locked around me, his heartbeat syncing with mine—
I couldn’t shake the feeling that the real danger wasn’t out there in the frozen wilds.
It was standing right beside me.
And I wasn’t sure if I wanted to kill him anymore.
Or keep him.