The bond hums beneath my skin like a secret.
Not the fevered scream of denial, not the desperate pulse of near-death, not even the quiet certainty of completion. It’s something deeper now—older. Like a river that has carved its path through stone and no longer needs to rage to prove its power. It’s steady. Sure. Ours.
I stand at the window of the warded chamber, barefoot on cold marble, my fingers tracing the mark on my neck—two small punctures, still warm, glowing faintly gold when I press too hard. Cassian sleeps behind me, one arm flung over his face, the other stretched toward the empty space where I should be. He doesn’t like it when I’m not beside him. Even in sleep, his body seeks mine. The bond pulls, soft but insistent, like a hand tugging at my sleeve.
But I can’t lie still.
Not after last night.
Not after Kaelen’s words.
“You’re the one who’s strong enough to stay.”
I want to believe that. I want to believe I’m not just clinging to Cassian out of magic or survival or some twisted debt. I want to believe I chose him—not because the bond demanded it, not because he saved me, not because I saved him—but because I want to.
But then there’s Malrik.
And the truth he’s still holding.
I close my eyes and breathe in the scent of the city—rain, stone, the faint metallic tang of blood from the night’s patrols. The Shadow Court is quiet, but it’s the silence of a predator crouched in the dark, waiting. Malrik hasn’t moved yet, but I can feel him. Like a shadow at the edge of my vision, just out of reach. Watching. Waiting.
And then—
It hits me.
Not pain. Not fire. But memory.
One that isn’t mine.
I’m in a chamber I’ve never seen—walls of blackened oak, torches flickering with cold blue flame. The air is thick with the scent of burnt sage and old blood. And there, at the center of the room, chained to a stone altar, is my mother.
Queen Lysara.
Her golden hair is matted with blood. Her face is pale, lips cracked, but her eyes—her storm-gray eyes, so like mine—burn with defiance. She doesn’t beg. Doesn’t cry. Just stares at the figure standing above her.
Malrik.
He’s younger than I’ve ever seen him—his face not yet hollowed by centuries of greed and power—but his eyes are the same. Cold. Calculating. Alive with cruelty.
“You signed her death warrant,” he says, voice smooth as poison. “You know the penalty for blood treason.”
“I did not betray my court,” she says, voice strong despite the blood on her lips. “I protected it. From you.”
He laughs—soft, musical, wrong. “You think Cassian is your savior? Your lover?” He leans in, close to her ear. “He signed the order too. He just didn’t have the stomach to watch it carried out.”
My breath catches.
No.
That’s not true.
I saw Cassian’s memory. I felt his grief. He tried to save her. He begged for her life.
But then—
The vision shifts.
Another room. The Council chamber. Cassian stands at the head of the obsidian table, his face cold, unreadable. Malrik beside him, smirking. And on the table—a scroll, sealed with black wax.
My mother’s execution order.
And Cassian’s signature—bold, black, real—at the bottom.
“It’s done,” Malrik says. “The traitor will burn at dawn.”
Cassian doesn’t speak. Doesn’t move. Just turns and walks away.
And then—
Fire.
Golden flames engulf the altar. My mother screams—once, sharp, final—and then silence.
And Cassian?
He’s laughing.
Not loud. Not cruel. But soft. Satisfied.
“She deserved it,” he says. “She was weak. Sentimental. She would have destroyed us all.”
“And you?” Malrik asks.
“I am the Blood King.” He turns, his black eyes flashing crimson. “I do what must be done.”
The vision shatters.
I stumble back, gasping, my hands flying to my temples. The room spins. The bond screams—golden fire erupting across my skin, sigils blazing, my magic surging in panic. I crash into the wall, sliding down, knees drawn to my chest, breath coming in ragged gasps.
“No,” I whisper. “No, no, no—”
But the images won’t leave. They’re burned into my mind—Cassian’s cold face, his signature on the scroll, his laughter as my mother burned.
Was it real?
Was it a lie?
Was it magic?
I don’t know.
And that’s the worst part.
Because the bond—this thing that’s supposed to be truth, that’s supposed to show me what’s real—doesn’t reject the vision. Doesn’t flare with falsehood. It just… hurts. Like it knows something’s wrong, but can’t tell me what.
And then—
Cassian’s there.
He’s at my side in an instant, crouched in front of me, his hands on my shoulders, his eyes wide with fear. “Vivienne. Look at me.”
I can’t. My breath is ragged. My magic is out of control—sigils flaring, golden light flickering across the walls. I press my palms to the floor, trying to ground myself, but the vision is still there, looping, taunting.
“What did you see?” he demands, voice rough. “Was it Malrik?”
I nod, unable to speak.
“What did he show you?”
I look up. Meet his gaze. And in that moment, I see it—the flicker of fear. Not for himself. For me. For what I might believe.
“He showed me the truth,” I whisper. “You signed her death warrant. You laughed as she burned.”
His face goes still. Not denial. Not anger. Just… grief.
“It’s not true,” he says quietly.
“Then why does it feel real?”
“Because Malrik is a master of illusion. He twists memory. He corrupts truth. He shows you what you’re most afraid of.”
“And what am I afraid of?”
“That you were wrong about me.” He cups my face, his thumbs brushing my cheeks. “That the man you’re starting to love is still the monster you came here to destroy.”
I close my eyes. “I don’t know what to believe.”
“Then believe this.” He pulls me into his arms, holds me tight, his chest a solid wall against my back, his breath warm at my ear. “I didn’t laugh. I didn’t sign that order willingly. Malrik forged my signature. He used blood magic to make it real. And when I found out—when I saw what they were doing to her—I fought. I begged. But they overpowered me. Bound me. Forced me to watch.”
I press my forehead to his shoulder. “And the laughter?”
“I didn’t laugh.” His voice breaks. “I screamed. For days. For weeks. I screamed until my voice was gone. And when they finally let me go, I swore I’d burn the Council to ash for what they did.”
I believe him.
I do.
But the vision lingers. It’s too vivid. Too detailed. Too real.
And worse—
What if part of it is true?
What if he didn’t laugh, but he didn’t stop it?
What if he tried to save her, but failed?
What if he’s not a monster—but he’s not innocent?
I pull back. “I need proof.”
“I don’t have it.”
“Then find it.” I stand, my legs shaky but determined. “There has to be a record. A scroll. A witness. Something.”
“The Council destroyed everything.”
“Then someone remembers.”
He stands too, reaching for me. “Vivienne—”
“No.” I step back. “I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep choosing you over the truth. I need to know.”
“And if the truth destroys us?”
“Then it should.” I turn to the door. “Because I won’t live a lie. Not even for you.”
The palace corridors are silent—guards standing at attention, eyes down, fangs hidden. I don’t look at them. Don’t acknowledge them. Just walk, my spine straight, my pulse racing. The sigils on my arms pulse faintly, reacting to the bond, to my fear, to the storm building in my chest.
I need to find Maeve.
She was my mother’s closest advisor. She was there the night they took her. She knows what happened.
And if she won’t tell me—
I’ll make her.
I reach the hidden passage behind the bathroom vent—the same one I used to sneak into Cassian’s study. I slide the panel open, crawl inside, and close it behind me. The tunnel is narrow, damp, the air thick with the scent of old stone and magic. I move quickly, my hands brushing the walls for balance, my breath echoing in the dark.
And then—
A whisper.
From ahead.
“You shouldn’t be here.”
I freeze.
“Maeve?”
“Come out,” I say, voice hard. “Now.”
Light blooms in the tunnel—soft, silver, like moonlight on water. And there she is.
Maeve.
Her silver hair is braided down her back, her face lined with age and power. She wears a simple gray robe, her hands clasped in front of her, her eyes—pale blue, knowing—fixed on mine.
“You’ve been watching me,” I say.
“I’ve been protecting you.”
“By lying?”
“By waiting.” She steps closer. “You weren’t ready to hear the truth.”
“I’m ready now.”
She sighs. “Malrik showed you a vision.”
“He showed me Cassian signing the order. Laughing as she burned.”
“And you believed it.”
“I don’t know what to believe.”
“Then let me show you my memory.”
Before I can react, she grabs my hands.
The world tears.
I’m in the Council chamber—same room, same obsidian table, same torchlight. But this time, I see it from the shadows. I see everything.
Malrik stands at the head of the table, holding the scroll. Cassian is there—his face pale, his hands bound with silver chains. He’s struggling, snarling, fangs bared. “You can’t do this! She’s innocent!”
“She consorted with a witch,” Malrik says. “She bore a hybrid child. She is blood treason.”
“She loved him,” Cassian growls. “And she was your queen.”
“And now she is nothing.” Malrik dips a quill in blood—Cassian’s blood—and forges his signature on the scroll. “The Blood King has spoken.”
Cassian screams—raw, broken, human. “You’ll pay for this! I’ll destroy you all!”
But they don’t listen.
They drag him out.
And then—
They take my mother.
I see her carried to the altar. See the flames rise. See her scream.
And Cassian?
He’s there.
Chained to the wall, forced to watch, his face streaked with blood and tears, his body shaking with silent sobs.
He doesn’t laugh.
He breaks.
The memory fades.
I’m back in the tunnel, on my knees, gasping, tears on my cheeks. Maeve still holds my hands, her eyes full of sorrow.
“He tried to save her,” I whisper.
“He did.”
“And Malrik—”
“Forged his signature. Used blood magic to make it real. And then made him watch.”
I press my palms to my eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because you needed to hate someone. You needed a mission. Without it, you would have collapsed under the grief.”
“And now?”
“Now you have something stronger.” She cups my face. “You have love. And it’s more dangerous than any revenge.”
I don’t answer.
Because she’s right.
And that terrifies me more than any lie.
I stand, wiping my tears. “Malrik will come for us.”
“He already has.”
“And we’ll stop him.”
“Not just you. Not just Cassian.” She steps closer. “Us.”
I nod. “Then we fight.”
“Together.”
I turn and walk back through the tunnel, the bond humming low and steady beneath my skin. The vision is gone. The doubt is quiet.
And for the first time—
I know what I am.
Not an avenger.
Not a pawn.
Not a claimant.
I’m Vivienne Amarys.
Daughter of a queen.
Heir to a bloodline.
And the woman who will burn the world for the man she loves.
When I return to the warded chamber, Cassian is waiting.
He doesn’t speak. Just pulls me into his arms and holds me, his breath warm at my ear, his heart steady against my back.
“You know the truth,” he murmurs.
“I do.”
“And you still came back.”
“I never left.” I press my forehead to his. “I just needed to be sure.”
“And now?”
“Now?” I kiss him—soft, deep, honest. “Now we end this.”
He doesn’t answer.
Just holds me tighter.
And somewhere in the shadows, Malrik watches.
And for the first time—
He fears.