Summoned

Althea POV

The envelope was made of flesh.

Not paper, not hide. Flesh. Smooth as skin, warm as a pulse. It had appeared without warning—curled like a serpent on Cassian’s desk, bound in blood-red wax and sealed with the sigil of the Council of Nine.

Cassian didn’t touch it. Neither did Xanden. The moment we saw it, the air turned heavy.

“They know,” I whispered.

“They always know,” Cassian said coldly, his eyes gleaming gold. “The Council felt the surge of our bond the second it solidified. They’ve been watching since your first scream echoed into the veil.”

I moved forward, pressing my hand flat to the seal.

It burned. Not painfully—but intimately. As if the seal knew me. As if it had always been waiting.

The wax cracked and melted under my palm.

Inside, only four words, written in ancient script that bled down the page:

“Come. Or be taken.”

Xanden let out a slow breath. “Subtle.”

“They’re afraid,” I said. “But they won’t admit it. So they’ll try to test me. Control me.”

“They’ll try to divide us,” Cassian corrected. “They’ll frame it as diplomacy—but it’s judgment.”

The portal opened an hour later.

Not by our hands.

It tore through the air like a jagged wound, rimmed in cold fire, swirling with Council magic. Formal and invasive. An invitation… backed with a threat.

Cassian offered his hand.

“You don’t have to go.”

Xanden’s voice was softer. “But if you do—we go with you.”

I took both their hands.

“I was born in exile. I grew up hiding what I am. I’ve never had a voice in this world.” I looked between them. “Until now. I won’t run from them. I’ll face them.”

Together, we stepped through the portal.

⸻

The Council Chamber

The air was razor-thin, thick with magic and expectation. Nine thrones sat in a half-moon, each occupied by the most powerful, terrifying beings in existence.

Witches. Vampires. Shifters. Ancients. Gods in everything but name.

At the center stood Lysarien.

She met my gaze—and for the first time since the vision, I understood the depth of her betrayal. She hadn’t just abandoned me to protect me.

She’d abandoned me to protect them.

“Althea Lake,” High Lord Thaniel said, his voice echoing unnaturally through the hall. “You stand before the Council of Nine, bonded illegally with two unmatched supernaturals—”

“There’s no law that forbids it,” I cut in.

Murmurs rose like sparks off dry tinder.

Lysarien’s eyes narrowed. “There is law, and there is tradition. And tradition keeps the balance.”

I took a step forward, feeling Xanden’s warmth at my back, Cassian’s fire curling protectively around my magic.

“I am the balance,” I said. “You think I’m a threat because I carry the blood of a drowned queen, because I didn’t ask your permission to claim power that’s rightfully mine. But you know what I am?”

I lifted my chin.

“I am the heir. Of the sea. Of the crown. Of a legacy your Council tried to erase.”

Thaniel’s smile was shark-like. “Then prove you are not the weapon the prophecies warned of.”

“How?” I asked, voice like a blade.

Lysarien stood. “By surviving the Trial of Harmony.”

Cassian snarled. Xanden swore.

Because they knew what it meant.

It wasn’t a test of power.

It was a test of control. Of restraint.

And it had killed dozens before me.

I looked them both in the eyes and whispered, “Don’t hold me back.”

BETWEEN THE STORM

Althea POV

The portal closed behind us with a hiss, sealing away the echo of the Council’s judgment.

The moment we were home again—back in Cassian’s obsidian-walled sanctuary—I could breathe. Barely.

I wasn’t afraid of power. Not mine. Not anymore.

But I was afraid of what the Council would force me to do.

They didn’t want me to prove control. They wanted me to crack.

Cassian’s arms were around me in seconds, his fire magic already coiling protectively around my skin. “You shouldn’t have to do this.”

“But I will,” I whispered into his chest.

Xanden stood nearby, his jaw tense, his usual gentleness veiled by an edge of rage. “They think they can test our bond like we’re some unstable experiment. But you’re not theirs to measure.”

“No,” I said, reaching a hand to him. “I’m yours. Just as you’re mine.”

His hand closed around mine like I was something sacred.

“I need you both tonight,” I whispered. “Not just your strength. You. All of you.”

Cassian growled low in his throat. Xanden exhaled like the breath had been punched from him.

They didn’t speak.

They moved.

Cassian swept me into his arms like I weighed nothing, carrying me to the bed framed in blackened steel and silk shadows. Xanden followed, already undoing the clasps of his tunic, his moon-silver eyes devouring every inch of me.

Their fear for me came out not in hesitation—but in hunger.

Cassian kissed me like it might be the last time—slow, deep, devastating. His lips claimed mine with heat that curled through my core and made my toes curl.

“You’re ours,” he whispered against my throat. “And we’re going to remind you.”

Xanden’s fingers trailed fire of their own—softer, more reverent. He kissed the hollow of my neck, then lower, while Cassian laid me back and peeled away every layer of armor and hesitation.

I moaned their names between kisses, between gasps, between the flood of magic already building between our bodies.

I was the tide—rising with each stroke of their touch, with every worshipful kiss and commanding thrust. Cassian’s dominance burned through me like wildfire, and Xanden’s gentle, hungry love undid me from the inside out.

And when they took me—together—there was no fear. Only heat. Only us.

Cassian moved behind me, strong and relentless, his hands branding my hips with every thrust. Xanden kissed me from the front, every touch grounding, anchoring, lips at my pulse like he was tasting my soul.

I shattered between them—again, and again.

And as we collapsed in a tangled heap of sweat and magic and breathless love, Cassian held my face between his hands.

“You survive this trial,” he growled. “And when you take that throne, we’re the ones who crown you.”

Xanden kissed my temple. “You’re not alone, Althea. Not for a single heartbeat.”

I pressed my face to his chest and let them hold me, limbs entwined, souls bound tighter than ever.

Outside, the sky cracked with the beginning of the Trial’s storm.

But in here—in this bed—I was fire, and moonlight, and tide.

And I was ready to make them all bow.