LOGINLADY SERAPHINE'S POVNo one was moving.My nails bit into my palms as I stood at the foot of the throne, staring at the frozen circle of guards surrounding Saphra. Their blades were drawn, their bodies poised… but their feet might as well have been rooted into the marble.Useless.All of them.My gaze snapped to Lucien.His arm was raised, sword trembling above her throat, black veins crawling across his skin, the darkness that should have already ended this pathetic display.And still, he hesitated.Rage surged through me.“Why are you waiting?!” My voice cracked through the chamber, sharp as glass. “Finish it!”Nothing.The guards shifted, uncertain.Lucien’s arm shook harder.And Saphra, that wretched foolish girl she knelt there like she had already accepted death, whispering to him as though this were some lover’s meeting instead of an execution.I could feel my control slipping.“No…” I breathed, my pulse quickening.This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.He was supposed to brea
SAPHRA’S POV The marble beneath my knees is colder than I expect. It seeps through the thin fabric of my dress, biting into my skin, anchoring me in this moment, this terrible irreversible moment. The throne room is too quiet. Not peaceful. Not calm. Just....heavy. I keep my head tilted back. Keep my throat exposed. Keep my body still. Every instinct in me screams to run. To fight and to survive. But I don’t move because this isn’t about survival anymore. This is about him. My gaze never leaves Lucien. Even now...especially now. He stands above me, framed by shadow and power, a king carved from darkness. I see the wrongness in the way he holds himself. The stiffness in his limbs. The unnatural stillness before motion. Like something else is wearing him. My chest tightens. You’re still in there. You have to be. His hand moves slowly and it wraps around the hilt of his sword. The motion sends a ripple through the room. I hear the sharp intake of breath from the guards,
LUCIEN’S POVI did not remember drawing breath, yet my chest rose and fell like a war drum.Everything inside me was chaos.Darkness pressed against the edges of my mind, a living thing that was hungry and whispering death. It had teeth. It had claws. And it wore my face better than I did.Kill her.The command slithered through me.Kill her now.My fingers twitched at my sides, curling as though they already felt the hilt of my sword. My lips parted.“Execute her.”The words came out cold. Clean. Commanding.The guards moved instantly.Steel rang softly as blades were drawn. Boots struck marble in synchronized steps as they advanced from every direction, closing in around her.A perfect circle.And she didn’t move.Not even a flinch.My pulse stumbled.Run.Fight.Scream.Do something.But Saphra…She simply lowered herself further.Kneeling in the throne room.Slowly.“No…” The word formed somewhere deep inside me, but it never reached my lips.Saphra tilts her head back exposing h
SAPHRA’S POVEveryone is watching him.Waiting.For judgment.For death....For my death.But I’m not watching the crowd.I’m not watching the guards inching closer, their hands tightening on their weapons, their eyes flicking between me and the balcony.I’m only watching him.Lucien.His hands are still gripping the stone railing, cracks spiderwebbing beneath his fingers. His body is rigid, locked in place like something is holding him there.His eyes...They flicker. The war inside him is visible and I feel it through the bond.That fragile thread I followed back here It isn’t fragile anymore.It’s alive, burning, pulling me forward.I inhale slowly and I move.The first step echoes louder than it should.Gasps ripple through the crowd.“She’s moving...”“What is she doing....”“Stop her...”Hands reach for me.Guards.Their grip closes around my arm but I wrench free before they can fully restrain me.“Don’t touch me,” I snap, my voice steady despite the chaos trying to claw its way
LUCIEN’S POVThe noise reaches me before I reach it.Distant at first.A low, restless hum beneath the heavy silence that has consumed the palace these past weeks.Then louder.Voices.Too many voices.Raised.Uncontrolled.I sit in the dark of the throne room, unmoving, staring at nothing as the sound builds and builds until it presses against my skull like something trying to claw its way inside.Make it stop.The thought isn’t entirely mine.It never is anymore.My fingers curl slowly against the arm of the throne. There’s something inside me that stirs at the chaos.Something that likes it.Feeds on it.No.I push the feeling down, grinding my teeth as a sharp pulse of pain cuts behind my eyes.Focus.But focus is getting harder.Everything is getting harder.Voices blur together.Memories slip.Time fractures.Sometimes I blink and hours are gone. Sometimes I open my hands and there’s blood on them I don’t remember spilling.Sometimes...No.Don’t think about that.Don’t think ab
LADY SERAPHINE'S POVI refuse to be undone like this.Not by a story.Not by sentiment.Not by a girl who should have been erased the moment she stepped out of this palace.If they want truth, then I will give them truth.The kind that poisons.The kind that burns everything clean.I draw in a breath.And when I speak, my voice cuts through the chaos like a blade.“Enough.”It’s not louder than before.But it’s sharper.And this time, It works.The noise falters, stumbles then stills.Not completely.But enough.Enough for me to take it back.All of it.“You want to know who she is?” I say, my gaze sweeping across the crowd.Curiosity flickers.I turn slowly and for the first time since this began, I look directly at her.Saphra.Standing behind Marcus, still, silent watching and waiting.There’s no fear in her face.No panic.No scrambling for escape.And that, that almost irritates me more than anything else.Because she should be afraid.She should be desperate.But she isn’t.Whic
SAPHRA'S POV The fever breaks quietly. There is no dramatic moment, no sudden gasp or jolt of relief. It simply… loosens. Like fingers unclenching from my spine one by one. I wake to stillness instead of fire, to warmth that is merely warmth and not a threat. My skin no longer feels stretched to
SAPHRA'S POV By the third day, I know the exact sound Lucien makes when pain wakes him.It’s not a cry. It’s a breath, so sharp, pulled too fast into lungs that refuse weakness. I hear it through the door before I enter his chambers, the sound threading straight through my bones as if the bond its
MARCUS’S POVI tell myself the excuse is sufficient.Security protocols are always sufficient. No one questions them openly, not when they come from me. Still, even as I walk the familiar corridor toward Saphra’s quarters, the words feel thin in my mouth, like a poorly forged document that might cr
SAPHRA'S POV Lucien had barely been healed before the members of the council called a meeting. The throne room always feels colder during council meetings.Not because of the stone, those walls have held winter for centuries but because of the people inside it. Power gathers here like a storm clo







