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I slammed into obsidian marble, gasping for breath as Estrella released her grip on my collar. Pain flashed through my knees from the impact. The vampire female had carried me from the thrall quarters over her shoulder, her hold on the metal at my neck just tight enough to cut off my screams. It had been uncomfortable but not painful, not really.

Not compared to éamon’s experience.

Tristan dragged him behind like an afterthought, one finger looped through his collar. The vampire had stayed behind his soulbound the entire way, forcing me to watch every second. éamon twitched, his eyes rolling back as the vampire cut off his air supply. The only reason he wasn’t dead was the rune Tristan had drawn the second before he grabbed him. Endure . It was the same one on the body in the forecourt garden, the one capable of keeping a vampire alive through impalement and flaying.

What was a little strangulation in comparison?

éamon went slack on the ground beside me, choking in a pained breath. His collar had bitten into his skin, the red mark around his neck bleeding where the silver had cut into him.

My collar suddenly felt too tight. A familiar ache curled in my lower stomach, the stress jabbing my illness’s fingers into my gut.

“Are you causing trouble already, little curiosity?”

I forced myself onto an elbow, my breath uneven. Silver eyes glowed at the top of a long flight of white stairs. Luc. I had vaguely registered Estrella carrying me into a large room, but only now did I see where I had been brought.

We sprawled at the bottom of the grand staircase, the Imperial Throne rising before us. Four councilors stood as sentinels, while two kings watched from their daemium seat. Luc lounged on the left, the silver buttons of his high-collared, form-fitting doublet stark against black fabric. To his right, Jules grinned, draped in a gold-embroidered tunic, every inch the glittering, bejeweled King of Dawn.

But it was the crowns that held me captive.

Made of daemium, their sharp spires breathed shadows, the darkness drifting through the tousled strands of Luc’s dark hair and Jules’s pale gold waves. They were crowns forged for the Conqueror and the Butcher, imposing, otherworldly, brutal.

The dull pain in my stomach twisted harder.

I tore my gaze away, drifting upward. The audience hall was the antithesis of the Abyss, a bright, gilded room with solid marble columns stretching impossibly high. On the ceiling, a mural showed hundreds of meteors blazing through a midnight sky. Their golden flames trailed against a backdrop of stars. The godsfire dimmed the closer the meteors were to the ground until only the black of a demon’s shadows remained. The artists had layered magic over their depiction of the Second Godsfall, the entire painting wavering like flame.

I gaped. How did Maire and the other thralls keep their heads bowed day after day when Dawnspear looked like this? Every single thing from the architecture to the art was a feat no human could ever achieve. Everything in Mabon was drab and dull in comparison. No wonder Lady Delphine and Lord Raul always looked angry.

Then again, the thralls didn’t have much choice. The few I had witnessed in the hallways scurried along, terror in their steps. There were a thousand eyes on them, most silver and gold, but there were flashes of color here and there from vampires older than Mabon itself.

And now those thousand eyes were on me.

Two far brighter than the others.

I turned my focus back to the kings. A small curve tugged at Luc’s lips at my distraction. Little curiosity, indeed. I shot a glare at the bastards as I slowly pushed onto my knees. I wished I could blame the decision entirely on oxygen deprivation, but I really couldn’t.

Estrella stepped toward me. I closed my eyes, bracing for the hit—

“No,” the kings said as one, the firm command of the Imperium.

Estrella stilled immediately. Within a blink, she kneeled, her head bowed toward her kings. “Forgive me, Imperators. She is yours to discipline, not mine.”

Luc rose to his feet and prowled down the stairs, a predator approaching its prey. “And what exactly has our bride done to require discipline?”

“We found her in the thrall quarters.”

Luc stilled.

A breathless silence swept through the courtiers, whispers strangled mid-sentence, shuffling footsteps frozen in place. Even the runelights seemed to hold their flickering breath.

Jules let out a low whistle, slicing through the hush. “Naughty girl. How did you manage that?”

I opened my mouth, but before I could find my voice, Estrella answered. “We believe she was led there by her thrall attendant. But as we were stationed outside your apartment, we can’t be sure how she left.”

Luc linked his hands behind his back. “Cédric, check the wards on the apartment.”

“At once, Your Majesty.” Without so much as a glance at me or éamon, Cédric headed toward the open doors at the far side of the audience hall, the entryway wide enough to fit a wagon.

Luc approached slowly, his imposing frame blocking out the throne behind him. I glanced up, up, up until I met those molten eyes. I could have stared for minutes easily, but Luc slowly arched a single brow. The movement snapped me back to reality, dragging my attention down like a weight around my throat.

Shit.

I dropped my gaze immediately. I needed to ignore my strange comfort around the kings, especially in public. I was just something to bite, fuck, use, and discard. Nothing less, nothing more.

I knew that. I had always known that.

Luc’s attention flickered to éamon, motionless at my side. “This one is yours, Sabas?”

“He was,” the vampire replied coldly.

I shuddered at the tone. He was . How did two simple words sound so final? éamon flinched, but he didn’t raise his head from the floor. Was that what they expected of their thralls? No wonder half the attention in the room was on my back.

I was about to command all of it.

A fresh wave of nausea crept up my throat, tangling with the pain curling in my gut. I swallowed hard, forcing both down. I didn’t know what the punishment was for endangering the covenant, but it couldn’t be good. If anyone was going to suffer for my choice, it should be me. I was the Mortal Bride. They couldn’t kill me.

Not right away, at least. They’d need a replacement first.

If the kings disappeared for a couple weeks around the next harvest, then I’d worry.

I exhaled slowly, my pulse pounding as I forced my head back up. Luc’s sharp jaw came into view first, then the faintest curl of his lips. Making eye contact with the Conqueror himself, I said, “This is my fault, Your Majesty. I should bear the punishment for it.”

The chamber didn’t stop this time. It reacted . A ripple of unease passed through the courtiers, an almost imperceptible shift in posture, a few quick inhales sucked between teeth. Hundreds of gazes pinned me to the marble floor. But no one spoke.

Luc tilted his head, imperious as ever, but the slight curl to his lip betrayed his amusement. “Who said we didn’t intend to punish you?”

My heart rate spiked. In my periphery, Jules leaned forward in his seat, a wicked gleam in his eyes.

I dug my nails into my palm. “I asked him to take me. éamon shouldn’t be punished at all for that.”

Luc cocked his head ever so slightly. “You’re lying.”

“I’m—I’m not.” Shit, I was. I had asked Maire not éamon. “Why would I lie?”

“To save your fellow human unimaginable pain?”

éamon shuddered but didn’t make a sound. I didn’t know the man, not enough to try to comfort him. And even if I did, it would only make things worse.

So I didn’t.

“I wasn’t forced from your apartment. It was my decision.”

“Which is why you’ll also be punished.”

Jules grinned at Luc’s words. Shit. Anything that made that beautiful maniac happy was bound to be terrible.

I frowned, my chin lifting the barest inch. “But—”

“Careful, Miss Halloran.” Luc’s voice dropped to a rasp, something rough and predatory. A warning. “I’m not known for my mercy. You’re expecting me to spare a thrall and allow your obstinance?”

Stars, I wanted to slap that smug arrogance off his face. “I’m not expecting anything. You’re the Conqueror. I would only expect you to be a monster.”

I regretted the words the moment they left my mouth. They weren’t a lie. They weren’t even rude, as far as I was concerned. Luc was a monster. But for a long moment, he didn’t move or speak. Neither did anyone else. I hunched my shoulders as the King of Dusk simply loomed, the full weight of his attention entirely on me. The audience hall waited with bated breath for his response.

A whisper of breath ghosted against my ear.

Fuck.

I had been so focused on Luc that I forgot Jules. And now the Butcher crouched beside me, too close, too warm.

“A monster?” Jules murmured, brushing a strand of hair from my cheek. “What a cruel thing to say about my soulbound, lovely.”

I turned and met the Butcher’s golden eyes. “Did I speak falsely?”

Jules’s pupils visibly and immediately dilated, stark hunger on his face. He traced along my jawline. “Not at all.”

My stomach twisted, nausea curling at the edges of my awareness. This was not going well. What had I been thinking? Bargaining with the Imperium, demanding things as if I had any power here? As if I could outmaneuver them? I spent most of my time in a bookshop talking to my cat. I didn’t belong in this world.

Pain twisted low in my stomach. I clenched my fists, digging my nails into my palms. What else did I have to offer them? Nothing. My body had already been claimed, marked, twisted into something they owned.

The realization slammed into me, cold and final.

I couldn’t save éamon.

The admission scraped like broken glass inside my ribs. I had sacrificed what little autonomy I had to save my sister. I had nothing else. I closed my eyes and breathed in. I will not cry. I will not scream. I will not let these monsters break me.

But I didn’t even have the power to guarantee that.

I forced my eyes open, pulse hammering as I met the Imperium’s gazes.

Luc remained poised, his quiet intrigue nearly imperceptible.

Jules…

Jules was grinning. Something dark flickered beneath his amusement, something sharpened by anticipation.

A chill licked down my spine. They were enjoying this.

“If you’re going to punish me, let’s get on with it.”

Luc’s lips curved into a smirk, but it was Jules who answered. “Oh, we will. But not in the way you’re thinking.”

His words alone should have cooled the heat creeping into my limbs, but then Jules traced a slow line to my neck. His knuckles settled against my thundering pulse.

Jules hummed. “Most people fear pain the most, but that’s not true for you, is it, Nessa? You’ve lived such a painful life.”

His fingers stroked along my throat, slow, deliberate, nefarious. A shudder rippled through me, straight to my core. A sharp flash of discomfort followed the desire. My illness was creeping closer, worsening with every second of stress.

Fuck. What were the changes the kings would replace my soothing rune now? Slim to none.

Being bitten, on the other hand…

I forced my voice steady. “I still fear pain.”

“But not the most,” Jules said. “That honor belongs to public humiliation.”

A cold sweat broke across my skin. “Haven’t you already humiliated me enough?”

Jules snorted and sprang to his feet. “Not at all.”

“What—?”

A hand fisted in my hair—Jules’s—and yanked me up. I screamed, pain lancing through my scalp. I stumbled forward, my hand landing hard on Jules’s muscular arm under a layer of silk.

The King of Dawn leaned into me and brushed his thumb against my lip. “How about this? Your punishment will be a kiss.”

I stopped breathing.

“Excuse me?” I gasped out as Luc arched a dark brow. Jules wanted me to kiss him? As a punishment? In front of hundreds of vampires? The thought was so ridiculous, so absurd, that I almost laughed.

Almost. Instead, nausea curled in my stomach. Maybe he was onto something.

Jules placed his hands on my shoulders and turned me ever so slightly toward the King of Dusk. “I want you to kiss Luc.”

I blinked. The world tilted. “ What ?”

Fuck, how was that worse? Jules was friendly and approachable… for an absolute psychopath. Luc was sharp and cold and intimidating. I glanced over at Luc’s hulking frame, my gaze catching his for half a second too long. The silver in his irises gleamed, but he only assessed me. Watchful and waiting.

I looked away fast. My stomach revolted, a tangle of emotion rising in me, twisting tight. Jules wasn’t just punishing me, he was toying with me. He wanted me to fail at kissing his gorgeous, brooding soulbound. He had seen my nerves last night when he touched me. He knew I was inexperienced. Having sex once didn’t change that.

My brow furrowed, something flickering at the edges of my mind. That was wrong. Like a thread I couldn’t quite grasp—

Jules grinned. “You did call him a monster, after all.”

“I was calling you both monsters technically,” I mumbled.

“If you want to kiss me, too, you need only ask.”

“I wasn’t saying that.”

He leaned in close, voice dipping into something lower. “Weren’t you?”

I shot him a glare, but heat flooded my face, betraying me.

“But we’re not entirely cruel—”

Luc chuckled. “Aren’t we?”

“—so if you kiss Luc…” Jules glanced at his soulbond, his smile growing by the second until Luc nodded. The King of Dusk raised his wrist before me, and the King of Dawn drew a small rune on his skin. Bargain . “If you kiss Luc right now before the High Courts, he’ll free éamon.”

Shadows flared from the rune before sinking into Luc’s skin. My jaw dropped. Karra had used a bargaining rune once. It meant the kings couldn’t break their word. I glanced down at éamon, but he still hadn’t looked up.

Shit.

I exhaled slowly. I could do this. To save a life, I had to do this. It didn’t matter that a thousand mocking eyes were on me. It didn’t matter that the kings were among them. It didn’t matter that I had never kissed anyone and didn’t know where to start.

I took one hesitant step toward the King of Dusk. Why did he have to be so huge? Just standing this close to him made my palms sweat. My eyes flashed to his, then dropped lower, but tracing the hard lines of his perfect jaw was no longer the safe choice, not with those soft, almost-smirking lips so close. My stomach twisted. I hoped I didn’t puke on him.

After what felt like a thousand years, I stopped a foot away from him. Luc considered me, his irises almost entirely swallowed by black. Only a small line of silver appeared between his pupil and shadow rim.

“In my experience, kissing requires touching.”

I winced. “If it was easy, it wouldn’t be a punishment.”

Luc chuckled softly. “That is true.”

I wrung my hands before me. How did one even start kissing someone? I’d have to rest my hands on his broad shoulders and stand on my toes just to reach. Maboni women were expected to save their first kiss for their husband on their wedding day. Before my body decided it hated me, I’d never been bold enough to steal one in secret.

And now, I was expected to go from nothing to kissing a vampire king.

Jules yawned dramatically at our side. “Time’s up.”

“What?” I spun to him. “You didn’t say there was a time limit.”

“I just did.”

Fuck me. I twisted back toward Luc, pressed onto my toes, closed my eyes, and quickly brushed my lips against his. A mere breath of contact. I dropped back down to my feet just as fast.

There. Done.

When I opened my eyes, the weight of silence pressed in on me. The kings stared, clearly unimpressed. A laugh rippled through the chamber. Not loud but unmistakable. Heat rushed to my cheeks. My skin prickled, heat crawling up my neck.

A spectacle. That’s all I was.

“What was that?” Luc asked.

I wished the ground would open and swallow me whole. It was a good thing we weren’t in the Abyss, because I’d have thrown myself over the edge. “A kiss?”

“Was it?” Luc raised his gaze from mine. “What say the Kings’ Council? Was that a kiss?”

Roxiana snorted. “Hardly.”

“I have to agree,” Isabeau added, arms crossed, expression sharp.

Sabas only shook his head. Possibly in exasperation, but it was an answer to Luc’s question, too.

A part of me wanted to shrivel up inside. Laughter whispered through the hall, weaving into old memories, echoes from my youth. Judging voices, mocking smiles, the weight of my humiliation. But it was worth it, if it saved a life. I could handle the judgment, the embarrassment. No one had ever died from being mocked.

If that were possible, I wouldn’t be here.

A large hand cupped my cheek. “This is a kiss, Miss Halloran.”

I didn’t have a chance to react, to process the words, before Luc leaned over me and kissed me. No hesitation. No softness. His lips claimed mine, not teasing but testing—an assessment, a demand.

One I had to obey.

One I needed to obey.

Luc didn’t kiss. He conquered.

He swept in, taking, consuming, until all I could do was yield. Until yielding was the only thing I wanted to do. Heat coiled in my stomach, winding through my limbs, leaving me weightless. I didn’t even notice my body’s rebellion. My fingers dug into his doublet, the last anchor keeping me upright.

Kisses had always seemed like messy things. But Luc kissed with precision, with brutality, with the same meticulous control that ruled impires. I moaned into his mouth, melting into him.

Surrendering before he could even demand it.

It ended just as quickly as it started. Luc pulled back and released me. I almost stumbled into Jules, his gaze locked on us, the gold nearly overtaken by black. The King of Dusk smirked down at me, arrogantly confident.

I tensed my legs, determined to stay standing. The Conqueror wouldn’t fell me with a single kiss, no matter his reputation. It was just a kiss. A punishment.

So why was my heart still racing? Why did my lips still burn?

“Did you kiss me, Miss Halloran?” Luc asked, voice measured.

I blinked at him. “What?”

“If that was a kiss, did you kiss me?”

“...no.”

“I’m glad we agree.” He turned, facing éamon—

No.

My hand shot out to his shoulder, desperation drowning every ounce of self-preservation. It worked. The heat of him, the strength beneath his doublet, sent a shiver up my spine.

Luc stopped to stare down at where I touched him.

I snatched my hand back. “But I… we…” Get it together, Nessa. “My lips touched yours. You didn’t specify anything else.”

Jules’s laughter cut through the air. “She’s got us there, Lucey.”

“You’re right, Miss Halloran. My apologies.” Luc’s voice was smooth. Too smooth. My skin prickled in warning. Something wasn’t right. “Rise, éamon.”

éamon trembled as he pushed to his feet, his hands clenched tight, his shoulders curled inward. This time, when Luc turned toward the thrall, I didn’t move to stop him. I liked my hands attached to my body.

Luc approached the redhead. With deft fingers, he unhooked éamon’s collar and let it fall to the floor. The sharp clatter rung through the hall.

“You’re free to leave.”

For a second, hope unfurled in my chest. I turned toward éamon, willing him to run, to move, to seize his chance before the kings changed their minds.

He didn’t.

He didn’t even lift his head.

Why wasn’t he moving ?

I saw it before I understood it—the vampires courtiers watching, the cruel amusement in their gazes, the way éamon’s hands curled into fists.

My hope froze. Cracked. Shattered.

The whisper of fabric. Jules circled me, his presence heat and silk and menace. He trailed his fingers along my shoulder, sending a shudder through my body. “Would you like to tell her, éamon?”

éamon finally raised his head and met the Butcher’s, his green eyes burning with raw hatred. “Fuck you.”

My breath caught.

Those hateful green eyes disappeared behind a broad back clothed in fabric dark as midnight.

“Is that any way to speak to your king?”

I couldn’t see éamon through Luc’s form, but I heard his response, a wet choking sound. Luc turned ever so slightly—and he brought éamon with him. The thrall dangled two feet off the floor, Luc’s grip around his throat unyielding.

Fuck, fuck, fuck . My heart beat faster with every curse.

“Since éamon here is incapable of answering a simple question, I will,” Luc said. “Outside of a harvest feast, an uncollared thrall can be hunted, captured, and killed without recompense.”

A slow, dawning horror filled my chest.

“You said you’d free him.” My voice was barely above a whisper. I turned to the King of Dawn, but Jules chose that exact moment to move, circling me like a predator until I couldn’t keep them both in my line of sight. “You sealed it with a bargaining rune.”

“And our bargain is concluded,” Jules said. “Luc removed his collar and told him he was free.”

“He wouldn’t have gotten very far.”

“That wasn’t part of the bargain.”

Fucking bastards. They hadn’t lied to me. They had tricked me. Panic surged, clawing up my throat as éamon thrashed, his fingers grasping in vain at Luc’s wrist. I couldn’t watch this. I couldn’t.

“Instead he insulted my soulbound,” Luc said. “And as he’s uncollared…”

Luc’s lips parted, shadows curling over his teeth, lengthening into black-tipped fangs.

He buried them in éamon’s throat.

éamon’s body arched in agony, his scream splitting through the chamber. A high, ragged sound. I flinched back, a sob rising in my throat. When Jules had bitten that man on the road, I hadn’t known whether his screams were from the wound in his gut or the fangs in his neck.

Now I knew.

Luc had said most thralls only tried a dry bite once. If this was the pain it caused, it was no wonder why.

Tears burned down my cheeks. I didn’t want to watch this. I didn’t need to see another person die. And another and another. When would it fucking end? I turned my head—

Jules closed a hand on the back of my neck and forced my gaze to éamon. “You’ll watch the entire thing.”

I shut my eyes. It didn’t stop éamon’s fading scream, his wet choking, but I refused to watch. “No.”

“Excuse me?”

“No. You can’t make me.”

That hand suddenly wrapped around the front of my throat. “I certainly can.”

He didn’t squeeze. His thumb stroked against my pulse. I shuddered. But still, I kept my eyes closed.

“What a brave thing you are.” Jules’s breath brushed my cheek. “Foolish, but brave.”

“And for a second, I thought you were actually complimenting me.”

“Do you need compliments?” he purred. “Will that endear you to me?”

I clenched my jaw. “A thousand compliments couldn’t endear me to you.”

The room around me had quieted, making Jules’s reply all the more clear. “I do love a good challenge.”

Something hit the floor, something soft and limp. My eyes flashed open. Luc stood over éamon’s pale body. The thrall’s dead eyes were open, pain and terror etched onto his face. A sharp gasp ripped from my throat. I slapped a hand over my mouth, choking back bile.

Jules brushed my throat, a trace of heat at his fingertips. I barely had time to process before my nausea vanished, smothered in an instant. I met his piercing gold gaze for a fraction of a second before I turned away.

But the sight that greeted me wasn’t any better.

Luc wiped away a thin trail of blood from his chin.

I didn’t want to look at either of the murderous beasts who owned me.

But I didn’t want to see éamon’s corpse, either.

I didn’t have to for long. Luc dropped his hand and drew the lines of a shadowed rune. Incinerate . éamon’s body collapsed into dust. The particles scattered, swallowed by nothingness. Like he had never existed. Like nothing had happened. Like they hadn’t killed a man to punish me.

Luc turned on his heels, climbing the stairs to the throne as if it were just another day. “What’s next, Chancellor?”

Roxiana tapped on her wrist, activating a runespell. Archive. Extract. Reveal . Lines of text appeared in the air before her. “The tribunal on the anarchists who destroyed the Dufresne Abattoir has reached a verdict.”

“Excellent.” Jules looped an arm around my shoulder. “Up we go, bride.”

My body locked up. But I didn’t have the strength to fight the King of Dawn as he swept me up the stairs to the Imperial Throne. Estrella and Tristan had taken position at the bottom of the stairs, blocking my escape. Not that it mattered. Even if they weren’t there, there was no escape. Not from this life.

Not from these vampires.

I felt the moment we reached the top, not from the shift in height but from the weight of attention. Four sets of silver-gold eyes locked onto me. I barely kept my footing under their scrutiny.

Roxiana. Isabeau. Sabas. Luc. Maire had said the former Mortal Bride fed the kings and their council. My stomach twisted, a dull ache curling low. Walking naked through the Abyss had been humiliating enough. But to be passed between six vampires?

I swallowed hard. I would have to find a way.

My gaze dropped to the daemium throne, shadows breathing from the stone. Anything but the kings. Anything but the council. Anything but the image of éamon’s face—

No.

Not here. Not now. I clenched my jaw, forcing my mind away from him. Was this a replica of the one in the Abyss? It looked identical, right down to the carved runes lining the wide base erupting from the floor. That the Azarasians had enough daemium to forge not one but two massive thrones spoke to the Impire’s wealth.

“Bride.”

Luc’s firm voice ripped me back to the present. He gestured to the floor at his feet. “On your knees.”

The words rang through me. They settled into my bones like they belonged there. My body resisted, muscles locking tight, but I swallowed past the lump in my throat. Slowly, carefully, I sank down until my knees pressed against the cold, unforgiving stone.

The kings’ gazes followed me, a singular weight, a shared hunger.

The chill of the floor bit into my skin, grounding me. I latched onto the sensation, onto anything real. I was alive. I would remain alive.

I would not break.

I would not—

Luc’s knuckles skimmed along my cheek. “Good girl.”

My breath hitched as I shuddered at the touch. But not from fear. From something far worse.

My mad need for the Conqueror and the Butcher wouldn’t break me, either.

Would it?

I repeated it over and over as the kings resumed their audience, their voices a melodic lull over my head.

Like if I thought it enough times, it might come true.