The morning sun had not yet risen over the northern cliffs when the summons came.
A silver scroll, sealed with the crest of the Supernatural Council—three interlocking rings of fae gold, wolf iron, and vampire obsidian—delivered by a silent fae messenger who vanished the moment I took it. No words. No warning. Just the weight of it in my hand, cold and final.
Alpha Kael Blackthorn. Lady Seris Vale. Attend the Council Chamber at dawn. Matters of interspecies stability require immediate deliberation.
Not a request.
A command.
I stood at the balcony doors of our suite, the scroll clenched in my fist, the scent of pine and iron sharp in my lungs. Dawn bled across the horizon in streaks of crimson and ash, as if the sky itself were wounded. The keep was quiet—too quiet. No wolves barked in the courtyard. No fae whispered in the halls. Even the wind held its breath.
They knew.
Something was coming.
Behind me, the fire in the hearth crackled, casting long, clawed shadows across the stone. Jade was still asleep, curled beneath the fur coverlet, her dark hair fanned across the pillow. She looked younger in sleep—softer, less guarded. The lines of vengeance that usually carved her face were smoothed, replaced by something almost peaceful.
Almost.
I didn’t wake her.
Not yet.
Let her have this moment. Let her rest while she still could. Because when the sun crested the cliffs, we would walk into the lion’s den. And I had no doubt—Elira had already set the trap.
The scroll wasn’t about “interspecies stability.”
It was about us.
After the fire. After the kiss. After I’d thrown Mira’s lie into the flames and declared Jade the only woman who wore my mark—Elira would not sit idle. She would strike. And she would strike where it hurt most: the Council.
She would call us liars. Claim the bond was corrupted. Say Jade had bewitched me, that the truth ritual was a farce. That I was unfit to rule, a half-fae abomination unworthy of the Alpha title.
And if she succeeded—
The Northern Packs would fracture. The Southern Witches’ Conclave would withdraw. War would erupt.
And Elira would rise from the ashes, stronger than ever.
I turned from the window, my boots silent on the stone. The bond pulsed in my wrist—a warm throb beneath my skin, a tether that once felt like a chain, now something fiercer. Something alive. I could feel her even in sleep—her pulse steady, her breath even, the heat of her body lingering in the air.
She was mine.
And I would burn the world before I let Elira take her from me.
***
She woke as I was lacing my boots, her storm-gray eyes blinking open, still heavy with sleep. For a heartbeat, she looked at me—really looked—and I saw it. Not suspicion. Not hatred. But something that made my chest ache.
Trust.
“You’re up early,” she murmured, sitting up, the coverlet slipping from her shoulders. She was bare beneath it, her skin warm, flushed from sleep. My breath caught. The memory of yesterday’s ritual flooded back—her body on my lap, her magic flaring, her climax lighting the chamber like a supernova. The way she’d whispered, *“You’re not what I expected,”* like it was a revelation, not a curse.
“We’ve been summoned,” I said, holding out the scroll.
She took it, her fingers brushing mine, sending a jolt through the bond. Her eyes scanned the message, then narrowed. “Council Chamber. Dawn. ‘Interspecies stability.’” She looked up. “That’s code.”
“For war,” I agreed.
She didn’t flinch. Just swung her legs over the side of the bed, her spine straight, her gaze sharp. “Then we go. We stand together. We show them the truth.”
“They won’t believe us,” I said, stepping closer. “Not unless we give them something undeniable.”
“The ledger,” she said. “The blood ritual. The handwriting.”
“Proof,” I corrected. “But proof they can’t twist. Can’t deny.”
She stood, bare and unashamed, and walked to the wardrobe, pulling out a black tunic, high-collared, embroidered with silver thread—the uniform of a Southern diplomat. She dressed quickly, her movements precise, her expression unreadable. But I could feel it—the tension in her muscles, the way her magic hummed beneath her skin, the way her scent shifted—jasmine and iron, fire and something darker.
She was ready.
And so was I.
***
The Council Chamber was a cathedral of power—black stone walls carved with the sigils of the nine species, a massive circular table of obsidian at its center, nine thrones rising like jagged teeth. Fae, wolves, vampires, witches, and other lesser supernaturals sat in uneasy alliance, their conversations a low hum of politics and pretense. The air was thick with the scent of enchanted incense, blood wine, and something sharper—fear.
Elira sat at the head of the table, regal, ageless, her silver hair coiled like a crown, her eyes sharp as glass. She didn’t smile. Didn’t acknowledge us. Just watched as we entered, her gaze lingering on Jade—recognition, triumph, something darker.
Cassien Nox sat to her right, his crimson coat gleaming like fresh blood, his smile too sharp. He lifted his goblet as we passed. “The fated pair,” he purred. “How… predictable.”
I didn’t respond.
Just guided Jade to our seats—side by side, at the far end of the table. The bond pulsed between us—hot, insistent. Our pulses synced. I could feel her anger, her fear, the way her magic flared beneath her skin.
Elira raised a hand.
The room fell silent.
“We gather today,” she said, her voice smooth, ancient, “to address a matter of grave concern. The bond between Alpha Kael Blackthorn and Lady Seris Vale—” she paused, letting the name hang in the air, “—has caused unrest among the packs, distrust among the covens, and suspicion among the bloodlines. Rumors swirl of manipulation. Of coercion. Of a truth ritual corrupted by desire.”
Jade stiffened beside me.
“And so,” Elira continued, “I call upon the Council to investigate. To determine whether this bond is legitimate. Whether the Alpha has been bewitched. Whether the Southern Witches’ Conclave has compromised the integrity of our peace.”
My hand found Jade’s beneath the table.
Our fingers intertwined.
The bond flared—hot, electric. Her skin tingled against mine. I could feel her magic rising, wild and untamed, but she held it back. Waited.
“I object,” Cassien said, standing. “The bond is sacred. The Shadow Fate prophecy has spoken. To question it is to question the Fae High Court itself.”
“And yet,” Elira countered, “the Fae High Court did not witness the truth ritual. Did not see the blood mingling. Did not feel the magic.” She turned her gaze to Jade. “Lady Vale. Will you submit to a second truth ritual? Here. Now. Before the Council?”
Every eye in the room turned to her.
She didn’t hesitate.
“Yes,” she said, her voice clear, strong. “But not alone. Kael submits as well. And the ledger—the one with the forged order for my sister’s termination—will be tested alongside us.”
Elira’s smile didn’t waver. “Agreed.”
“And one more thing,” Jade said, standing. “If the magic confirms the forgery—if it proves Kael’s blood rejects the signature—then you will admit your error. You will retract your accusations. And you will face the consequences.”
Elira’s eyes narrowed. “And if it does not?”
“Then I will walk out of this chamber,” Jade said, “and you can have your war.”
The room erupted.
Wolves growled. Fae hissed. Vampires whispered. But Elira—she just smiled.
“So be it,” she said.
***
The ritual was prepared quickly—a sunken basin in the center of the chamber, filled with enchanted water, sigils carved into the obsidian floor. The ledger was placed on a stone pedestal, open to the forged page. Kael and I stood at the edge, barefoot, our sleeves rolled up, our wrists bared.
Elira watched from her throne, Cassien at her side, his gaze hungry, calculating.
“Begin,” Elira said.
Kael stepped forward, slicing his wrist with the silver dagger he always carried. Dark, rich blood welled up, dripping into the water. I uncorked the vial at my throat, letting my sister’s blood—crimson, humming with latent magic—mix with his.
The moment our blood touched, the room exploded.
Light—crimson and gold—flared between us, magic surging like a storm. The bond screamed, a living thing feeding on the power, on the intimacy, on the raw, unfiltered truth of the act. The ledger flew open. The page turned. And the signature—
It burned.
Not with fire.
With rejection.
Kael’s blood recoiled from the ink, hissing, writhing, as if the magic itself knew the truth—this was not his hand. Not his will. Not his soul.
It was a forgery.
He was innocent.
Again.
But this time—this time, it wasn’t just us who saw it.
The entire Council saw it.
Wolves lowered their heads. Fae averted their eyes. Vampires leaned forward, their expressions unreadable.
And Elira—
She didn’t flinch.
Just smiled.
“Fascinating,” she said, rising. “The magic speaks. The Alpha is cleared of suspicion.” She turned to me. “And you, Lady Vale. Will you now admit your error? Your attempt to destroy a man who has done nothing but protect you?”
My breath caught.
She was turning it. Twisting it. Making me the villain.
“I came here to find the truth,” I said, my voice steady. “And I have. The order was forged. The signature was not Kael’s. And the woman who gave it—” I stepped forward, my magic flaring, “—is the same woman who purged the hybrids. The same woman who smiled at me like she knew my secrets. The same woman who used my grief, my rage, my bond with Kael as weapons in her war.”
Elira’s smile didn’t waver. “You have no proof.”
“The handwriting,” I said. “The magic confirmed it. The ink shifted. Reformed. Into yours.”
“A trick,” she said. “A lie. The magic is volatile. Unpredictable. Influenced by emotion. By desire.”
“Then test it,” I said. “Let the Council see. Let them watch as your blood touches the ink. Let them see if it accepts you.”
She didn’t move.
Just smiled.
“No,” she said. “I will not be humiliated by a hybrid witch and her fated beast.”
The room erupted.
And then—
Cassien stood.
“Enough,” he said, his voice smooth, dangerous. “The bond stands. The Alpha is cleared. The Southern Witches’ Conclave remains in good standing.” He turned to me, his gaze sharp. “But you, Lady Vale. You challenged the Council. You brought war to our doorstep. You will answer for that.”
My magic flared—crimson sparks dancing at my fingertips.
But Kael’s hand closed over mine.
“You’re playing a dangerous game,” he murmured, his voice low, for my ears only.
I turned my head, meeting his gaze.
And smiled.
“I know,” I said.
Outside, the whispers continued.
But inside—
The storm had only just begun.