Page 17 of Blood Marked

SEVENTEEN

SELENE

T he letter came folded into her linens.

No seal. No signature.

Just a cream-colored scrap tucked into her nightclothes like a secret. As if the sender knew she’d be the only one to find it. Knew that she’d read it alone, with shaking fingers and her heart clawing at her ribs.

Her name was written in her father’s handwriting.

That was the first blow.

The second came when she opened it.

Daughter—

I have been informed of the Mark’s manifestation. Of the ritual you are being prepared for. I fear your silence, though I understand its necessity.

You must tread carefully. I know the bloodline. I know what they want. The Houses will not protect you. Nor will the wolves who claim they do.

You are a key—more than a symbol. And they will bind you for it, Selene.

Use your proximity to Kael Fenrir. Use his desire. Use his guilt. Escape while you still can.

– E. Morwen

Selene stared at the words like they might rearrange themselves into something she could understand. Something that didn’t burn.

But they didn’t change.

Not even when she folded the letter.

Not even when her hand clenched into a fist around it.

Her father, Ambassador Elias Morwen, the man who had molded her into a diplomat from the moment she could read—had finally reached across the Veil to speak to her.

And it wasn’t to ask if she was safe.

It was to remind her that she wasn’t.

She sat on the cushioned window bench long after the suns dipped behind the Veil mountains. Her cloak wrapped around her shoulders. Her boots untouched. The hearth crackled softly in the background.

Kael hadn’t come again.

That stung more than she wanted to admit.

But this?

This letter carved out something deeper .

Not because it was cruel. Her father had never been cruel. But because it was cold . Because it was strategic . Because he knew.

He knew about the Mark. The bond. The ceremony.

He knew things she hadn’t been told. Not by Kael. Not by the court. Not by anyone on this side of the damn Veil.

Selene had spent days trying to make sense of what the Mark meant—why the court was circling her like vultures, why Kael burned so hot then turned to ice. She thought Kael didn’t know how to talk to her. That he was avoiding vulnerability.

But maybe he was just avoiding the truth.

Because her father had it.

And Kael hadn’t said a damn word.

Selene stood too fast. The cloak slid from her shoulders.

She moved to the writing desk in the far corner, dragging her fingers through the notes scattered across it. Transcripts from her studies. Symbols from the Stone of Binding. Half-finished letters to herself she hadn’t had the courage to send.

And now this.

Now this goddamn reminder of the world she’d left behind. The one that had used her as a symbol and now wanted her back—as a weapon.

Her father wanted her to manipulate Kael. To exploit the crack between his honor and his instincts. To run.

And the worst part?

A small, traitorous voice in her chest agreed with him . Because if Kael really cared, why hadn’t he warned her? Why hadn’t he told her what the ceremony would mean? Why had he kissed her like she mattered and then turned her into an obligation?

She thought of the way his hands had trembled when they touched her. The way he whispered her name like it was a confession.

And then how quickly he left. Like he couldn’t bear what he’d done.

What if that kiss wasn’t about her at all?

What if it was about the bond? The prophecy? The fucking ceremony that would tie her to this mountain until her bones turned to dust?

Selene pressed a palm to her mouth and took a shaking breath. She wanted to hate him, but she couldn’t. She understood too well and too little all at once.

When the knock came, her pulse jumped.

For a second, she imagined him. His broad frame filling the doorway. His eyes dark with some realization that made it all better.

But it wasn’t Kael.

It was one of the guards he’d assigned to her after the attack. A broad-shouldered woman with pale scars across her cheeks and a look that said she’d rather be hunting than delivering messages.

“Lady Morwen,” the guard said, bowing slightly. “You’ve been summoned to the ceremonial fitting. The High Priestess will oversee your attire for the rite.”

Selene stared.

So it was true.

It was happening.

Kael hadn’t told her because he didn’t have to because it was already in motion. Because her body and her blood and her bond had been claimed the moment the Mark burned into her skin—and she hadn’t even known it.

She nodded once. Silent.

The guard left.

Selene sat back down, numb.

She traced the folded letter on the table’s edge, then there it into the flame of the candle burning on her desk.

She didn’t know what she was going to do yet.

But she was done waiting.

And if Kael thought he could carry this like a war he had to fight alone…

He was about to learn that fire didn’t burn out when ignored.

It devoured.