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T he Crown’s guard delivered me to an enormous vestibule.

Beams of light poured in from impossibly high skylights.

A set of large wooden doors were the only thing that stood between me and my beasts.

I could hear the din of the crowd, and a shiver ran down my spine.

What was happening out there? The blasts had finally stopped—or perhaps we’d reached a part of the castle where we could no longer hear them.

I’d stopped fighting, choosing to conserve what little strength I had left for whatever might come next.

Johan stood at the center of his entourage. A gangly valet preened over him, adjusting a gaudy golden crown that was far too large for his head.

“Simply marvelous, Your Highness. The way the new crown sits upon your head is absolutely splendid. No one will notice your limp. The healers have done a masterful job. Once you place the Bloodstone Sigil on your finger, no one will be able to deny your status,” the valet gushed.

“Yes, yes, that’ll do, Hysserion,” Johan said, waving him off as he pulled a necklace from under his doublet.

A thick ring hung at the end of the chain.

He eyed the band—the infamous ring of power—rubbing at the red blisters encircling his finger.

With a deep breath, he slipped it over the angry skin.

A muscle ticked in his jaw, and sweat beaded on his brow.

The ring was affecting him. And not in a good way. But what did it mean?

“Your Highness,” the captain called. “I’ve brought the human, sir.”

He dragged me forward until I stumbled. His bruising grip was the only thing keeping me from falling on my face. Everyone in the vestibule fell silent as I straightened, making a show of smoothing the ink stains on my dress.

The sneer on Johan’s face when he saw me was worth whatever punishment he had in mind. “What’s the meaning of this?” His eyes flicked from one guard to the next.

“This is how we found her, Your Highness. And due to the urgency of your request, we didn’t want to keep you waiting. The lady’s maid has been relieved of duty. Everything else has been done to your specifications.”

“Those damn peasants are completely useless.” Johan strode toward me, a thick velvet cape trailing behind him. “Lift her dress.”

I stood stoic, closing my eyes as they exposed me yet again—this time for his inspection. He sucked in a breath through clenched teeth, then licked his lips like he was tasting the air.

“A bit more crude than I would have preferred, but it’s enough to plant the illusion.”

“This was your doing?” I hissed, allowing my anger to take over for the broken girl beneath the surface.

“As you well know, I’d planned to do it myself. But our little run-in last night derailed my surprise for the sons of Artos. Speaking of—how is Jase this morning?” A cruel smirk twisted his lips, and I cracked.

“You bastard! I’ll kill you!”

I lunged for him before I could think better of it, my hands going for his throat. Even the light in the room seemed to darken with my wrath, but it was short-lived. Strong arms held me in place as I seethed, desperate to wrap my hands around his throat and watch the life fade from his eyes.

“Humans,” Johan tsked. “Rather emotional creatures, don’t you think?

” His entourage laughed at my expense. “Chain her ankles. I don’t want her getting any bright ideas in front of the court.

If she cannot uphold decorum, I may need to find that lady’s maid she’s so fond of and hang her along with the others.

A little incentive to mind your manners. ”

“Go to hell,” I growled as the guards locked the iron shackles around my ankles. My skirts hid them completely as they fell back into place.

“So ungrateful. Here I am, about to give her this beautiful gift, and yet she speaks to me as if I’m not her king.” He stepped in close, waiting to see how far I’d push him.

“I don’t want your gift. Let them go. Then I’ll be thankful.”

“Ha! Let them go? I’m doing you a great service by severing your fated bonds. Then you’ll be free. Free to bear my offspring. Children immune to this terrible plague that’s culling the lesser of our kind. We’ll usher in a new era for Hiraeth. Eventually, you’ll learn to respect me.”

“Nico will kill you before he lets that happen. They all will,” I shot back, allowing myself that small fraction of hope.

“I’ve already apprehended the imposter,” he said coolly.

I studied his face. The deep furrow in his brow, the slight tick in his jaw—he was bluffing. “I don’t believe you.”

“Nico’s capture is a foregone conclusion. You, my lovely, are the bait he cannot resist. Fitting, don’t you think? My consort, single-handedly responsible for the fall of the House of Bruin. The news will spread far and wide. Hiraeth will thank you for cleansing the realm of their bloodline.”

“No matter what you do to this body, I’ll never be yours,” I choked out. It was weak, but it was true. My beasts might die today… because of me.

“Shall we? Let’s not keep our guests waiting.” He reached for my hand and tucked it into his arm, leading me toward the grand wooden doors. My destiny waited just beyond this threshold.

The sunlight was blinding. It took a moment for my eyes to adjust, the muted tones of the courtyard slowly coming into focus. Johan led me onto a raised stone dais, waving to the crowd as we reached the railing.

The sea of people stretched beyond the gates. Peasants in drab clothing stretched out before us. It was sickening, how many had come to watch the execution of innocents. I scanned the crowd for familiar faces, but there were too many.

A wall of guards stood between us and the masses.

More were scattered throughout, on high alert, as if they knew danger was already among them.

The crudely constructed gallows rose from the center of the courtyard.

Six wolfsbane nooses swayed gently in the breeze.

Smoke rose from the northern and eastern wings of the castle, but the crowd remained.

If anything, the air crackled with a grim anticipation—as if the realm was preparing for destinies to be made or lost this day.

Johan lifted his arms, and the crowd fell silent. He let the moment stretch, milking the tension before finally shouting, “Bring them out!”

An ominous drumbeat echoed through the courtyard and the crowd erupted. A smug smile curled Johan’s lips as they came into view.

A line of battered servants stumbled onto the gallows, their tunics torn, faces bloodied, hands bound with wolfsbane ties.

Rook.

My breath caught. The young page who had helped Mirabelle dress me the night of the Crownspire. His solemn gaze found mine as they pushed him into place, fitting the noose around his neck. Despite it all, defiance burned in his eyes. The sight gave me strength, even as my tears fell.

An old sage stepped onto the platform, pushing up his sleeves before addressing the accused.

“We commit your souls to the Divine, to cast their ultimate judgment. Let your spirits find peace beyond the veil, carried upon your sacred breath. In life, they stood against the crown. In death, may they stand before you. So it is spoken. So it shall be.”

“Let this be a lesson to all who would conspire against my reign,” Johan bellowed. He raised a gloved hand.

A black-masked executioner yanked the lever. All six dropped.

I flinched as Rook’s body jerked, his strangled gasp lost beneath the crowd’s collective exhale. The ropes creaked. Their feet twitched. One by one, the fight left them, until they hung limp, swaying like broken marionettes.

Bile burned in my throat. I wanted to scream. To fight. But I was frozen. Useless. Shackled and forced to watch the slow unraveling of everything I held dear.

They wasted no time discarding the bodies and marching out the next prisoners. My heart squeezed when I saw Sawyer’s massive frame leading the way. Blood matted his silver hair and wolfsbane bindings dug into his wrist as they dragged him forward.

Johan stood. “This one gave us more trouble than all the rest. But like the others, he is nothing before the crown. His death will cripple that pitiful rebellion. No one will rise against me again.”

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to ignore him and come up with something that resembled a plan. I couldn’t let this happen.

I felt them before I even opened my eyes.

The air shifted—the energy pulling taut as Finn and Hunter were marched into the square.

Iron chains hung heavy over the wolfsbane binding their hands.

I gasped at the sight of them. Their faces were gaunt and bruises in varying stages of healing covered their skin.

And still—they walked with their heads high.

The crowd pelted them with rotten food, but they didn’t flinch. Hunter’s piercing eyes burned with restrained fury, but he kept his focus on the gallows. Finn’s gaze locked onto mine.

“Do not look away.” His voice echoed in my head, barely a whisper at the edge of thought. The wolfsbane dulled his magic, but he was still there, pressing against my thoughts.

“Stay with me, Finn. They’re coming. We’ll get you both out of this.” Tears blurred the scene, but I didn’t look away.

The drums began again. Slow. Steady. A death knell ringing over the courtyard. Johan accepted a scroll from his valet and unrolled it with practiced formality. His voice was deep and measured, as though he’d recited this speech a thousand times.

“Finn and Hunter, sons of the fallen House of Bruin. I hereby declare you guilty of treason, conspiracy, and rebellion against the rightful crown.”

The crowd roared as guards tightened the ropes around their necks. I should’ve been searching the crowd for help. I should’ve had a plan. But I couldn’t tear my gaze away from them.

“We’ll have time to love each other in the next life,” Finn whispered .