chapter 2

The Marking

The door slammed shut behind her, and the click of the lock was final.

Elira stood in the center of a stone chamber lit by hundreds of flickering candles. They lined the walls in neat rows, throwing long, shifting shadows across the cold floor. There were no windows. No exits. Only a high-domed ceiling and thick iron doors behind her.

And him.

King Kael Vortigan stood across the room, shirtless, silver eyes glowing in the half-dark. His chest was scarred, the muscles tense, jaw locked like he was holding back a snarl. The tattoos across his arms twisted as if alive — ancient Lycan symbols, pulsing faintly like a second heartbeat.

She didn’t move.

He didn’t speak.

Only the sound of the flames and her own pulse filled the silence.

“You can’t keep me here,” she said.

He tilted his head slightly. “I already am.”

“I didn’t agree to anything.”

“You were bought,” he replied, stepping closer. “That was the agreement.”

“I’m not a thing.”

Kael stopped just a breath away. His gaze dropped to her wrists — raw and bandaged now. One of the guards must’ve wrapped them after she passed out. He didn’t touch her. Just stared.

“You fought,” he said.

“Harder than you expected?”

His mouth twitched. A smirk — but not kind. “I like a little fire in my queen.”

“I’m not your queen,” she hissed. “You don’t even know who I am.”

Kael stepped in, chest brushing hers. His hand lifted, slow and deliberate, until his thumb grazed her jawline. “Oh, but I do.”

His touch was heat. Unwanted. Confusing.

“I know you’re not just human.”

Her body went still.

“I know there’s something in your blood… something old.”

He leaned closer, voice lowering.

“And I know,” he murmured, “that if I don’t mark you tonight, they’ll kill you before the sun rises.”

Elira flinched.

“Who?”

“My court,” Kael said simply. “They don’t want a human on the throne. Especially not one with untested blood.”

She stared at him. “Then why buy me?”

“Because your blood may be the only thing that can save my kingdom.”

His voice dropped to a growl. “And because I wanted you.”

A hundred voices screamed in her head. Run. Fight. Scratch his eyes out.

But her body didn’t move.

Kael stepped back, just slightly, and reached into a carved box on a stone table behind him. He pulled out a silver dagger, its curved edge gleaming with runes.

Elira tensed.

“It’s ceremonial,” he said. “The old way.”

He didn’t offer more explanation.

He didn’t need to.

She’d heard the stories. The bond between a Lycan king and his queen was made in blood — literal and magical. The marking sealed their connection. Once done, it couldn’t be undone.

Unless one of them died.

Kael sliced the blade across his palm. Blood welled instantly — dark, thick, and almost black.

He walked toward her slowly, eyes never leaving hers.

“I’m not doing this,” she said.

Kael stopped. “You already are.”

And then, with one swift move, he reached out — grabbed her wrist — and pressed her hand against his bleeding palm.

Pain exploded.

His blood soaked into her skin like fire, burning up her veins, latching onto her bones. She screamed, dropping to her knees.

The fire didn’t stop.

It crawled through her — alive and vicious. Her heart pounded. Her vision blurred. Her breath shattered.

And then—

Darkness.

She stood in a forest.

Not hers.

Not now.

The air was thick with mist, trees blackened and bare. The scent of ash and blood hung heavy.

She was barefoot again. Wearing white. But her hands… her hands were soaked in red.

A boy stood across from her.

Barely thirteen. His eyes were silver. His hands shook.

“Do it,” someone growled behind him.

The boy lifted a blade.

“No,” Elira whispered.

She couldn’t move.

Couldn’t scream.

The blade came down.

The vision shattered.

She gasped awake, lungs desperate for air.

Kael was crouched beside her, his eyes wide — not with rage, but something else.

Fear.

“You saw it,” he said.

“What the hell was that?” she choked.

Kael didn’t answer right away. His voice was low, rough.

“The bond… it works both ways. You’ll see pieces of me.”

She pushed back, crawling away from him until her back hit the wall.

“You killed someone,” she spat.

“I’ve killed many,” he said. “But that… was my brother.”

Elira blinked.

He didn’t look at her.

“My father forced me to choose,” he said. “One of us would be king. One had to die.”

Her stomach turned. “And you chose yourself.”

“No,” he said, finally meeting her eyes. “I chose my brother. I gave him the blade.”

She stared.

“He couldn’t do it,” Kael said softly. “So I took it from him… and I did what he couldn’t.”

Silence.

“Do you understand now?” he asked. “Why I rule the way I do? Why I never take my mask off in public?”

Elira’s chest ached with too many things at once.

Pity.

Horror.

And something worse — something she didn’t want to name.

“You think that story makes you noble?” she snapped.

Kael rose to his full height again.

“No,” he said. “It makes me king.”

The door slammed open.

A warrior entered, cloaked in deep gray.

“Your Grace. We have a situation.”

Kael’s entire frame tensed.

“What kind of situation?”

The warrior’s face was tight. “There’s been an assassination attempt.”

Kael didn’t hesitate.

“Elira stays here. No guards. No doors. If she moves, I’ll smell it.”

And then he was gone — vanishing into the shadows like smoke.

Elira sat alone on the floor, her skin still burning with the remnants of the bond.

She could still feel him.

Like his blood hadn’t left her.

She grabbed a candle and held it close to her hand.

Do it, she thought.

Burn it off. End it.

But her hand trembled too much to touch the flame.

And her heart beat louder than her will.

Minutes passed. Hours maybe. She didn’t know.

But when the door opened again, Kael was different.

His chest was splattered with blood.

His jaw was clenched so tight, it looked carved from stone.

She stood.

“Who tried to kill you?”

“Not me,” he said coldly. “You.”

Her breath caught.

“What?”

Kael’s eyes burned.

“They found your name on a parchment in the traitor’s hand. Along with this.”

He held up a medallion — black iron, shaped like a flame.

Elira’s blood ran cold.

“I’ve seen that before,” she whispered.

“I thought you might.”

Kael stepped forward.

“You’re not just some orphan girl from the Lower Quadrant,” he said. “You were born into the Order of Cinders.”

“No,” she breathed.

“Yes,” he said. “The same bloodline that slaughtered my people two centuries ago. The same that vanished after the Great Burning.”

She shook her head.

“I didn’t know— I never—”

He gripped her chin again, rougher this time.

“You were born to kill me,” he said.

“No!”

Kael leaned in.

“Then why,” he hissed, “did your eyes glow when you stood in the court? Why did the fire obey you?”

Elira yanked free of his grip.

“I don’t know!”

They stood in a breathless silence.

And then Kael spoke.

“Tomorrow night,” he said, “we leave for the Ironwood. The court will judge you. And if they decide you’re a threat…”

His voice dropped lower.

“I’ll have to end this bond myself.”

Elira’s body went still.

He turned toward the door.

But before he stepped out, he looked back over his shoulder.

“Sleep well, Elira,” he said. “You may only have one night left.”