The Court

The court faded. The music dulled. The room was full of eyes, but in that moment, they didn’t exist.

Lucien didn’t speak. He didn’t need to.

His hand found my waist, his other fingers lacing with mine. He pulled me closer than anyone else had dared—closer than I’d let anyone. Our bodies moved in perfect sync, my pulse fluttering despite myself.

“I warned you not to test me,” he murmured against my temple.

“You did,” I said, breathless. “But I’m not very obedient.”

His lips ghosted over my cheek. “I know.”

And just like that, we stopped moving. Our faces were inches apart. His eyes held mine with the weight of a thousand unsaid things.

I could have pulled away. Should have. But I didn’t.

Our mouths hovered—so close the air between us crackled, my heart beating like a war drum.

Then a cold hand gripped my arm.

“Enough,” Saelene said, her voice a velvet blade. “Your little captive’s in high demand tonight, Lucien. You’ll have to share.”

Lucien’s jaw tightened, but he released me. Saelene didn’t wait for permission—she pulled me from the ballroom and into a side passage, deeper into the heart of the castle.

And as the door closed behind us, cutting off the music and light, I realized—

This night was far from over.

“Where are we going?” I asked, breath still shallow. My heartbeat hadn’t calmed—worse, I didn’t know if it was fear or something else fueling it.

She didn’t answer. Just cast a sharp look over her shoulder. “Keep up, little flame.”

We passed through velvet-curtained archways, winding stairs, and towering doors marked with ancient sigils. I kept track of every turn, every room. I might need to run again. Or hide.

The weapons I’d stashed under the folds of the crimson dress were still secure: a poisoned pin in my bodice, twin blades along my thighs, and a thin wire sewn into my corset stays. Improvised, but effective. And I had the feeling I might need them soon.

Finally, Saelene halted before a heavy blackwood door. She rapped twice. It opened from within.

The room was starkly different from the glittering court—dark walls, bookshelves stuffed with leather-bound volumes, and a central round table surrounded by seven shadowed figures.

Five were already seated. I recognized Dorian, lounging with bored elegance. Azren, silent and stiff. A female vampire with dark braids and icy eyes I hadn’t met yet. And two others—strangers, both unnervingly still.

Saelene released me and crossed to her seat. “We’re all here now.”

I lingered at the threshold, scanning the room for Lucien.

Not here.

Good.

But also… confusing.

“Sit,” said the braided woman coolly. “You’ve been summoned.”

“Summoned?” I echoed. “Why?”

Azren’s voice cut in like a sword. “Because you’re disrupting the balance. And the king listens when his balance shifts.”

“I haven’t done anything,” I said, stepping inside slowly, wary.

“That’s the problem,” Dorian murmured, chin propped on his fist. “You haven’t chosen anything yet. But you’re already making waves. Lucien dances around you like you’re some long-lost melody, and Gwynne—well, Gwynne doesn’t get interested in mortals unless they break things.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” I muttered.

The braided woman arched an elegant brow. “We’re not your enemies. Not yet. We’ve gathered because we want to know one thing—”

“What do I want,” I finished for her.

There was a brief pause.

Then she smiled. “Exactly.”

I didn’t sit. I stood tall, eyes sweeping them like they were prey. “I want to live. I want Lucien dead. And I want to tear this castle down with him.”

They all watched me with unreadable expressions.

Dorian smiled faintly. “You really do have a flair for drama.”

“Lucien won’t let you leave,” said Azren. “He’s already decided. You’re part of the court now.”

“He doesn’t get to decide that.”

Saelene’s lips twitched. “You still don’t understand what he is. Who he is.”

“I understand perfectly,” I said. “He’s a tyrant who thinks he can collar the fire.”

A soft chuckle came from the shadows behind the table—one of the silent vampires finally moved. “He doesn’t want to collar it. He wants to be burned.”

That silenced the room.

And it chilled me.

“So what’s the point of this meeting?” I asked. “If no one’s here to kill me, is this a warning?”

Dorian tapped the table thoughtfully. “Consider it… an opportunity.”

“For what?”

“For choosing. Allies. Enemies. A path forward.”

“She could be useful,” Saelene said. “If sharpened properly.”

Azren nodded once. “Or dangerous, if left unchecked.”

The braided woman rose, moving toward me with fluid grace. She extended a slender hand. “My name is Irisa. I speak for the ones Lucien no longer listens to.”

I didn’t take her hand.

“I’m Arabella Everleigh,” I said, “and I don’t take sides without knowing what they cost.”

Irisa smiled like I’d passed some kind of test. “Wise. You’ll need to be.”

Then the door opened.

Lucien’s presence filled the threshold like thunder.

“I believe this meeting is over,” he said, voice cool, deadly.

The others stood. Not in fear. In formality.

Irisa turned to him with a dip of her head. “We were merely getting acquainted.”

Lucien’s eyes never left me. “She doesn’t need your acquaintance. She has mine.”

And gods help me—when he said it, it didn’t sound like protection.

It sounded like possession.