Court of Shadows

The council chamber was colder than I remembered.

Not in temperature—though the air was crisp enough to sting—but in the silence that swept across the room as soon as we stepped inside. Heads turned. Magic stirred. And the moment Cassian’s boot hit the marble floor, the room seemed to inhale.

The demon king had arrived.

Xanden flanked me on the other side, his expression unreadable but radiating danger. He wore no weapons—they’d been confiscated at the door—but he was a weapon. Every movement was measured, deliberate. Fae elegance hiding lethal force.

And me?

I wore black.

Tight. Sleek. Regal.

Not a whisper of the ocean or innocence.

The woman from the night before—Councilor Velryn—rose from her obsidian throne at the center dais. Her smile was more of a warning than a welcome.

“Siren.”

Her voice echoed through the vast hall, amplified by power and centuries of authority.

“Councilor,” I replied, letting the word fall like broken glass from my tongue.

Cassian took a single step forward. “We weren’t summoned.”

“No,” Velryn said, “you came willingly. Which means you understand the gravity of your mistake.”

“Mistake?” Xanden said quietly. “You mean fate.”

A ripple of unease moved through the gathered councilors.

Velryn’s eyes narrowed on me. “You bonded with two unmated dominants, knowing your bloodline.”

“I didn’t choose the bond,” I said evenly. “But I don’t regret it.”

“Then you don’t understand what you’ve done.”

“I know exactly what I’ve done.” I took a slow step forward, lifting my chin. “I survived. I claimed what’s mine. And now I’m done hiding.”

Cassian’s energy surged beside me, a quiet warning to anyone who thought to step closer. Xanden’s presence at my back warmed, supportive but sharp.

“She’s not here to be questioned,” Cassian said. “She’s here to speak. You’ll listen.”

Velryn laughed once. “You think we fear your little queen?”

I smiled.

It wasn’t sweet.

It was siren-deep and cold as moonlit water.

“I think you should.”

Power licked at my skin—deep, ancient, unleashed. I didn’t try to hold it back. Not this time. My voice rang out, not with magic, but with something more dangerous:

Truth.

“You hunted my kind,” I said. “You killed my mother. You buried our history and called us monsters. And now that you’ve failed to control me, you’re scrambling to leash me.”

“You are dangerous,” Velryn snapped.

I stepped forward again, voice low, seductive. “And that’s what scares you, isn’t it? That your kings want me. That your sons dream of me. That your council can’t control me.”

Gasps whispered through the chamber.

Cassian’s lips curled into a slow, dangerous smile. Xanden touched the center of my back—just once—like a spark igniting.

“I’m not your pet,” I said. “I’m not your pawn. I am the last of the siren queens, and I won’t be silenced again.”

The silence that followed wasn’t shock.

It was fear.

And I drank it in.

Velryn’s eyes burned, but she didn’t speak.

She didn’t have to.

Because something else was coming—someone.

I felt it.

A pulse through the floor. A shift in the air. A whisper of deeper magic long buried by politics and tradition.

Cassian leaned close, whispering only loud enough for me to hear:

“You just declared war.”

I didn’t flinch.

I just smiled.

THE GHOST IN VELVET

Lysarien Vale POV

She was supposed to be dead.

Althea Lake.

No—Althea Vaeloria, last daughter of the siren queens.

I knew her power would surface eventually. You can’t kill royal blood with whispers and blades alone. Not when it runs that deep. Not when it’s hers.

She stood in the council chamber now, wrapped in midnight and fury, glowing like something divine and untouchable. She looked like her mother.

Gods help me, she sounded like her.

But where Calista had been all empathy and moonlight, Althea was ocean storms—coiled and ready to drag the world under.

And she saw me the moment I stepped through the far door.

Her expression didn’t change.

Not on the surface.

But I felt the tremor in the bond we used to share. Not a lover’s tie. Not even blood. Something deeper.

I was her cousin.

The one who handed her family over to the Council in exchange for my own life.

And she knew it.

I stood at the edge of the chamber, flanked by council guards, cloaked in gray and violet—colors that marked me as a royal conscript, but nothing close to a prince.

Not anymore.

Not after what I did.

Councilor Velryn’s voice sharpened across the chamber. “Sir Vale. You’re late.”

I ignored her and focused on Althea.

She stood between the demon king and the fae warrior, bare power coiling at her feet. She didn’t flinch as I stepped into view. She didn’t run. Her chin tilted a fraction, her lips parting just enough to reveal a hint of teeth.

Siren.

Queen.

Executioner.

I’d imagined this meeting a thousand ways. I thought she’d scream. Cry. Break. Beg.

But she just stood there, radiant and dangerous and damned. Her voice was calm.

“Well,” she said. “Look who finally crawled out from under the Council’s skirts.”

Cassian moved toward me in a blur, but she raised a hand. Stopped him with a glance.

“Let him speak.”

That was always her flaw. Mercy. Even now.

“I came to warn you,” I said, voice low. “The council doesn’t want to punish you. They want to breed you.”

Xanden let out a sharp, deadly breath beside her.

“They already made the arrangements,” I continued. “Magical suppression. Forced mating. They’re calling it a political merger.”

Althea’s face remained still, but the chamber dimmed as her power curled tighter.

“And why,” she said slowly, “would you tell me this?”

“Because I regret it,” I said. “What I did to your mother. To you. I chose survival. But it didn’t save me. It made me theirs. And I’ve been paying the price ever since.”

“You think this redeems you?” Cassian growled.

“No,” I said. “But maybe I can help you bring them down.”

There was silence.

Then, softly, from Althea: “Help us?”

I stepped closer, holding her gaze. “There’s something beneath this council. A force older than any of us. They want you because they think you’re the key to awakening it.”

“What force?” Xanden asked.

I met Althea’s eyes. “The Deep One. The origin of sirens. The one your mother locked away before the first kingdoms rose.”

Althea went pale.

Not with fear.

With recognition.

“You know the stories,” I said. “They’re not stories.”

“And what do you want, Lysarien?” she asked at last.

I didn’t lie.

“I want redemption. And I want to see the council burn.”