The Iron Spire didn’t care about my sleepless night, my trembling hands, or the way my skin still hummed with phantom heat from a whisper I might have imagined. It moved forward—cold, indifferent, its gears turning with the precision of a thousand hidden knives.
By midday, the summons came.
A silver scroll, delivered by a silent Fae attendant in twilight robes. No knock. Just a soft chime at my door, then the parchment left on the floor like an accusation.
I picked it up, unrolling it with fingers that didn’t shake. Not this time.
Lord Kael requests your presence in his private chambers. Immediate.
No explanation. No courtesy. Just command.
Of course.
I smoothed the scroll, then tossed it into the unlit firepit. It curled at the edges, blackening, but didn’t catch. Like me. Burning on the inside, untouched by flame.
I changed into fresh clothes—black leather pants, a high-collared tunic that hid the still-glowing Dusk-mark. Armor, again. Not for battle. For survival.
The walk to Kael’s chambers took three minutes. Three minutes of passing silent corridors lined with flickering sconces, of feeling the bond pulse with every step closer, of catching scents—ozone, blood ink, the faintest trace of him—on the air.
His door was open.
That should have been my first warning.
I stopped in the threshold, pulse stuttering.
The room was vast—larger than mine, darker, layered with power. Wind sigils carved into the stone walls pulsed with slow rhythm, like breath. A massive desk of black oak dominated the far end, littered with scrolls and crystal vials. To the left, a sitting area with low couches and a hearth that glowed with blue flame. To the right—
The bed.
And on it—
Her.
Lady Elara of the Winter Court.
She lay sprawled across the mattress like a queen on a conquered throne, one leg bent, the other stretched long. Her hair—pale as frost—spilled over the pillows. And she wore… his shirt.
Not a nightgown. Not a robe.
His. The silver-gray one from this morning. The one he’d worn when he stood in my doorway, so controlled, so untouched.
And now it was on her. Unbuttoned to the waist. Slipping off one shoulder. Revealing smooth, pale skin, the curve of a breast, the delicate line of her collarbone.
She wasn’t alone.
Kael stood at the window, back to us, arms crossed, silver hair catching the dim light. He didn’t turn. Didn’t react.
My breath caught.
Elara did.
Her eyes—icy blue—snapped open. She smiled, slow and deliberate, like a predator who’d just caught its prey in a trap.
“Oh,” she purred. “You’re here.”
I didn’t move. Didn’t speak. My body was frozen, but my mind was a storm.
This is nothing. It means nothing. He doesn’t care about her. Riven said so.
But the bond—gods, the bond—screamed.
A sharp, searing pain lanced through my chest, centered on the Dusk-mark. It flared, hot and bright, spreading across my collarbone like fire in dry grass. My breath came in short gasps. My fingers curled into fists.
Jealousy.
Not just emotion. Physical. Magical. The bond reacting to perceived threat, to competition.
And Elara knew.
She sat up slowly, letting the shirt fall open further. “I was just reminding Kael of our… history.” Her voice was honey and poison. “He’s always been so attentive in the mornings.”
Still, Kael didn’t turn.
“You’re in my way,” I said, voice low, steady. “Move.”
She laughed—light, mocking. “Your way? Darling, you’re not in his life. You’re a political inconvenience. A bond glitch. He’ll tire of you by the next moon.”
“Is that what he told you?” I stepped forward, boots clicking on stone. “Or are you just desperate to believe it?”
She rose from the bed, the shirt swaying with her movements. “He didn’t have to tell me. I’ve felt his hands on me. His mouth. His fangs.” She ran a hand down her own body, slow, deliberate. “He likes it when I scream.”
The bond roared.
Pain. White-hot. In my chest, my throat, my gut. I stumbled, catching myself on the doorframe. My vision blurred. For a second, I saw red—like blood, like rage, like the curse flaring to life.
I wanted to attack. To cross the room and tear her apart with my bare hands. To claw that smug smile off her face, to rip the shirt from her body, to make her bleed.
But I didn’t.
I clenched my jaw. Breathed. Fought the magic, the emotion, the need to destroy.
“You’re lying,” I said, voice shaking now. “He wouldn’t—”
“Wouldn’t what?” she interrupted, stepping closer. “Touch me? Claim me? Love me?” She laughed again. “We were bonded once. Before the High Queen forbade it. He wore my mark for three full moons.”
My stomach dropped.
“Liar,” I whispered.
“Check his neck,” she said, smiling. “Just below the hairline. On the left. You’ll see the scar. Faded, but still there.”
I looked at Kael.
Still motionless. Still silent.
My hands trembled. Not from fear. From fury.
“You don’t know him,” I said, stepping into the room. “You don’t know what he’s capable of.”
“Oh, I do.” She tilted her head. “I know exactly what he’s capable of. The way he bites. The way he—”
“Enough.”
Kael’s voice.
Low. Cold. Final.
He turned.
And for the first time, I saw his face.
No anger. No guilt. No shame.
Just… control.
His silver eyes moved from Elara to me. Then back.
“Leave,” he said to her.
Elara didn’t flinch. Just smiled, slow and knowing. “Of course, my lord.” She reached up, unbuttoned the shirt, and let it slide from her shoulders. It fell to the floor in a whisper of silk.
She stood there, naked, unashamed, her body pale and perfect.
And then, without breaking eye contact with me, she walked past Kael, trailing a finger down his chest. “You’ll come to me,” she murmured. “When you’re done playing politics.”
He didn’t answer.
She left, the door clicking shut behind her.
Silence.
Thick. Heavy. Charged.
The bond still burned, but differently now. Not just pain. Need. A deep, aching pull toward him, like gravity.
I looked at the shirt on the floor. Then at Kael.
“Was she telling the truth?” I asked, voice barely above a whisper. “About the mark?”
He didn’t answer.
“Was she?”
Still nothing.
“You let her wear your shirt. You let her lie in your bed. You let her—”
“I didn’t let her do anything,” he said, voice sharp. “She’s a Councilor. I can’t imprison her for trespassing in my chambers.”
“You could have stopped her.”
“And started a war?” He stepped forward, eyes blazing. “Elara is Winter Court. Her family has ties to the High Queen. If I so much as raise a hand to her, it’s grounds for political retaliation. You think I don’t know that?”
“Then why didn’t you send her away the second she walked in?”
“Because I was waiting for you.”
I froze.
“What?”
“I knew she’d come,” he said. “Knew she’d try to provoke you. To make you react. To make you look weak in front of the Council.”
“So you let her?”
“I let her reveal herself.” He moved closer. “And you—you stood there. You didn’t attack. You didn’t scream. You didn’t give her the reaction she wanted.”
“I wanted to,” I admitted. “I wanted to rip her apart.”
“But you didn’t.” His voice softened. “And that’s why you’re dangerous.”
“Dangerous?”
“To them.” He reached out, his fingers brushing my cheek—just once, like yesterday. “You’re not like the others. You don’t play their games. You don’t bend. You don’t break.”
The bond surged.
Heat. Not pain this time. Want. A deep, primal pull, low in my belly, spreading through my limbs. My breath hitched. My skin burned where he touched me.
“And you?” I asked, voice trembling. “Are you dangerous to me?”
He didn’t answer.
Just stepped back.
“You’re here because I need you,” he said. “Not because of the bond. Not because of politics. Because I need you to help me expose Cassian.”
My pulse spiked.
“Cassian?”
“The High Queen’s spymaster.” His eyes held mine. “He’s the one who cursed your mother. Not me.”
I stared at him. “You expect me to believe that?”
“No.” He turned away, walking to his desk. “I expect you to find out for yourself.”
He handed me a scroll—sealed with black wax, marked with a sigil I didn’t recognize.
“Archives. Restricted section. Level nine. This grants you access.”
I took it, fingers brushing his. The bond flared again—soft this time, almost… pleading.
“Why give me this?” I asked. “After everything?”
“Because you’re the only one who can.” He looked at me. “You have her blood. Her power. And her rage. Use it.”
My throat tightened.
“And Elara?” I asked. “What about her?”
“She’s a pawn,” he said. “And she’ll be dealt with.”
“How?”
He met my gaze. “In time. But not like this. Not with you tearing her apart in my bed.”
I flinched.
“I wouldn’t have—”
“You would have.” He stepped closer. “And it would have proven her point—that you’re unstable. Uncontrolled. A threat.”
“And you?” I whispered. “Are you controlled?”
For the first time, something flickered in his eyes. Not anger. Not control.
Vulnerability.
“No,” he said. “Not when it comes to you.”
The bond throbbed.
A deep, resonant pulse, like a heartbeat. My breath caught. My skin tingled. The air between us felt charged, thick with unspoken words, with need.
And then—
A sound.
From the hallway.
Footsteps. Fast. Purposeful.
The door burst open.
Riven.
“Lord Kael,” he said, voice tight. “Emergency Council session. Now. Cassian’s moving.”
Kael’s mask snapped back into place—cold, controlled, impenetrable.
“Go,” he said to me. “Find the truth. But be careful. The archives are watched.”
Then he was gone, Riven at his heels.
I stood there, the scroll clutched in my hand, the bond still humming in my veins.
Elara’s words echoed in my skull. He likes it when I scream.
Kael’s voice, softer. Not when it comes to you.
I looked down at the shirt on the floor.
Then I bent, picked it up, and threw it into the firepit.
It caught instantly, flames licking at the silk, turning it to ash.
“You’re not who I thought you were,” I whispered to the empty room.
And for the first time, I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing.
I didn’t go to the archives.
Not yet.
Instead, I went to the training chambers.
I needed to move. To fight. To burn off the tension, the jealousy, the need that coiled in my gut like a living thing.
The chamber was empty—long, low-lit, its walls lined with weapons racks and practice dummies. The floor was marked with sigils for elemental control, the air thick with residual magic.
I stripped off my tunic, leaving me in a thin undershirt. My Dusk-mark glowed faintly, pulsing in time with my heartbeat.
I closed my eyes. Breathed.
Then I called the fire.
It came—roaring up from the ground in a spiral of orange and gold, twisting around me like a serpent. I raised my hands, guiding it, shaping it into a whip, a blade, a wall.
I attacked the dummies—fast, brutal, precise. Fire lashed out, slicing through straw and wood, reducing them to ash. Sweat poured down my back. My muscles burned. My breath came in ragged gasps.
But it wasn’t enough.
The bond still hummed. Still pulled.
I called the wind.
It answered—howling through the chamber, tearing at my hair, my clothes. I spun, letting it lift me, using it to amplify my strikes, to fuel the fire.
I fought until my limbs trembled. Until my vision blurred. Until the curse flared in my veins, a warning—too much, too far.
And still, I didn’t stop.
Because if I stopped, I’d have to think.
About Elara.
About Kael.
About the way his voice had changed when he said, Not when it comes to you.
Finally, I collapsed to my knees, gasping, the fire dying around me, the wind fading to a whisper.
And then—
A hand on my shoulder.
I whirled, fire flaring in my palm—
“Easy.”
Riven.
He stepped back, hands up. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”
I lowered my hand, the flame dying. “What do you want?”
He studied me—sweat-soaked, trembling, eyes wild. “You’re pushing too hard.”
“I’m fine.”
“Liar.” He handed me a water flask. “Kael sent me. Wanted to make sure you were… stable.”
I took the flask, drank. “He’s worried I’ll snap?”
“He’s worried you’ll get yourself killed.”
I laughed—harsh, broken. “Would that be so bad for him?”
“You know it would.”
I looked at him. “You really believe he’s not the monster I thought he was?”
“I’ve seen him mourn,” Riven said quietly. “For your mother. For you. Before you even existed.”
My breath caught.
“He loved her,” Riven said. “And he couldn’t save her. That’s his curse. Not yours.”
I closed my eyes.
“Then why Elara?” I whispered. “Why let her—”
“Because he’s playing a game,” Riven said. “And you’re the only one who can win it with him.”
I opened my eyes. “And if I can’t?”
“Then we all lose.”
He turned to leave.
“Riven.”
He paused.
“Thank you.”
He nodded. “Don’t thank me. Just stay alive. For him. For yourself.”
Then he was gone.
I sat there, the flask in my hand, the bond humming beneath my skin.
Elara’s words.
Kael’s voice.
Riven’s truth.
And one question, louder than all the rest:
Who am I here to destroy?
I didn’t have an answer.
Not yet.
But I would.
Soon.