Chapter 9

“Seraphina,” I whispered, my voice barely audible.

She didn’t turn. “Please… just go.”

The words hit harder than any blade ever could. I felt hollow, gutted, as if she’d reached into my chest and torn out whatever piece of me still clung to hope.

I didn’t argue. Couldn’t. Instead, I turned and followed the guards in silence, my steps echoing through the high-vaulted corridor like the tolling of a funeral bell. The morning light filtered through stained glass windows, casting fractured patterns across the cold marble floor. Shadows crept long behind us—as though the palace itself sensed what was coming.

Each guard we passed offered a respectful nod, but even their usual stoicism seemed strained. Like they too were waiting for something… darker.

At the end of the hall, the gilded doors to the throne room stood shut, looming like the gates of some ancient tomb. Two guards stepped forward in sync, grasping the heavy ring handles. With a groan of metal and wood, the doors swung open.

The room was empty.

No nobles. No whispers. Only silence.

I hesitated.

The velvet carpet stretched down the gleaming floor like a blood trail, ending at the twin thrones atop the dais. My father sat upon the larger one—King Malachar, regal and imposing in midnight robes. Queen Ravenna, my mother, sat to his left, her black eyes glittering like obsidian shards. The smile on her lips was faint… and unreadable.

“The court has been dismissed,” the king announced, his voice rolling through the chamber like thunder. “We have private matters to discuss.”

I stepped forward, every instinct screaming to turn and run.

“You summoned me?” I asked, my voice hollow.

My mother’s expression tightened. “That tone, Lysander,” she chided softly. “A little respect for your king.”

I offered a tight nod, forcing the words out. “Yes… Mother.”

She seemed satisfied, though her eyes never stopped studying me.

I stopped before the dais, my gaze locking with my father’s. “Yes, Father?”

He tapped a clawed finger against the armrest, studying me like prey. “Tell me… how fares the princess?”

My heart clenched. Images flashed—Seraphina’s haunted eyes in the garden, her voice when she asked, Do we really want this peace treaty?

“She’s… adjusting,” I said finally. “As well as anyone could.”

The queen’s lips curled. “She’s done more than adjust. She thrives—and that’s because of you. You’ve done well, Lysander.”

I said nothing. Inside, the guilt twisted like a blade. If only they knew how divided I truly was.

King Malachar’s eyes narrowed. “Something weighs on your mind.”

I didn’t want to say it. I knew what would happen once I did. But the words pushed forward, bitter and relentless.

“I know what the engagement represents,” I said carefully. “What it means for our people, for peace between our kingdoms. But I… made promises before all of this. Promises I haven’t forgotten.”

Queen Ravenna stilled. “What promises?”

But my father already knew. His jaw clenched. “Rosalina Darro.”

My mother’s expression soured like spoiled wine. “That girl?” she hissed. “Still? Lysander, that common fae is nothing but a distraction. She walks these halls like she owns them.”

“She’s Kieran’s sister,” I said, tone sharpening. “I swore a blood oath.”

The king’s voice thundered. “And I said enough. You will not dishonor the fated bond by chasing old ghosts. Rosalina is of no use to this court, and I forbid you to speak her name again.”

I gritted my teeth. “You speak of use like it’s all that matters. She’s more noble than half the sycophants who kneel at your feet.”

My mother rose to her feet, furious. “Watch yourself, Lysander—”

“Ravenna,” the king warned, lifting a hand.

She fell silent, her glare searing into me like flame.

The king leaned forward, his gaze icy. “You will do your duty. The time has come to present Seraphina to our allies. At the next full moon, you will introduce her to the court… and complete the Shahar.”

The breath left my lungs.

Not the Shahar.

Not that.

The ancient rite—performed before the entire kingdom—would bind us irreversibly in the eyes of the realm. No more secrets. No more escape.

“Do I make myself clear?” he asked, his voice like stone grinding against stone.

“Yes, my king,” I forced out, though bile burned in my throat.

“Good. You’re dismissed.”

I bowed stiffly and turned, every muscle in my body aching with restraint. As the doors shut behind me, the fury erupted—I felt my talons unsheathe, slicing into my palms, blood hot and crimson.

She was a common fae, he’d said. As if that diminished her worth. As if Kieran’s sacrifice—her brother’s blood oath—meant nothing.

I stormed toward the gardens, the rage barely leashed.

Laughter floated ahead. I caught sight of Seraphina, smiling as she spoke with three attendants. The sound of her joy cut deeper than any insult my parents had thrown. It reminded me of everything I stood to lose—and everything I wasn’t sure I deserved.

She noticed me. Her smile faltered the moment she saw the blood dripping from my claws.

She dismissed the others with a quiet word. They bowed and scattered like frightened birds.

“Lysander,” she said, walking toward me. “What happened? What did your father say?”

I couldn’t tell her. If she knew what I’d tried to do—if she knew the king nearly cast me from the bloodline—I wasn’t sure she’d ever look at me the same.

I turned away, jaw clenched.

“Lys,” she whispered, her fingers brushing my arm. “Look at me.”

Slowly, I did.

Her eyes searched mine. “Is it… that bad?”

I tried to smile. It cracked halfway through. “Depends how you feel about public humiliation.”

Her brow furrowed. “Lysander—what’s going on?”

I hesitated.

Then I said, “You’re to attend a royal ball with me.”

She blinked. “That’s it?”

“No,” I murmured, voice barely audible. “That’s just the beginning.”

And somewhere deep within the palace—someone was listening.

And they weren’t pleased.