Page 50

My eyes didn’t know where to fall first.

Floor-to-ceiling windows stretched across the right wall, opening onto a terrace that overlooked the distant blue expanse of the lake. Shelves of pale wood lined the room, meticulously arranged with hundreds of books and scrolls. On a recessed stretch of parquet flooring, eight plush red lounge chairs surrounded a circular gilded table. Bodies twisted in strokes of gold, white, and red on the ceiling, like an artist had rendered a revelry in paint.

Stars, I would never tire of simply looking . After a lifetime of dull human constructions, every room I entered was like stepping into a dream.

Even if this one was more of a nightmare.

Isabeau and Roxiana rose from their seats as the kings entered, dipping into shallow bows. But their attention flickered to me almost immediately, examining me with the cold interest of a predator.

A shiver crawled down my spine. Something was wrong. The creeping sense of unease coiled tighter. What had Cédric discovered from analyzing my blood? It couldn’t be good if the entire Kings’ Council was staring at me like I was their enemy. We didn’t know each other, but our few interactions had been cordial until this point.

Now, hostility thickened the air of the Council Chamber.

Luc pressed a hand lightly against my lower back. I had stopped near the doorway, caught in the weight of those unreadable, silver-gold stares.

Estrella and Tristan shut the chamber doors with a thud.

Without a word, Luc guided me forward toward the table, where the council had reclaimed their seats. No chair looked more important than the others, but we rounded the table toward the two directly facing the entrance. Luc pulled a chair back for me.

As soon as I sank into the plush cushion, Jules took the seat beside me. The council followed his lead, settling back into place.

Luc remained standing. He didn’t fidget or shift, only studying the gathered council like he would a battlefield. But beneath that stillness, a muted thrum of apprehension ran through him.

Then, finally, he spoke. “You discovered a signature?”

“I did,” Cédric said with an incline of his head, those golden eyes flickering to Luc before cutting briefly to Jules.

The King of Dawn lifted a brow. If I noticed the council’s intensity—and hesitation—then they certainly had, too.

“And?” Luc asked with a hint of annoyance. His tone was as even and unaffected as usual, but it itched through the bond.

Sabas exhaled through his nose, already impatient. He wasn’t one to tiptoe around unpleasant truths. “It was Allegra Isaura.”

The kings went predatorily still. Their reaction was so visceral that my entire body clenched, too. But within, my heart kicked into a hard, erratic rhythm.

Allegra Isaura.

The name echoed through my mind, ice sinking into my bones.

He had to be mistaken. How? Why? When? But that didn’t matter now.

This was not good.

Rage slammed through my chest. I sucked in a sharp breath, caught off guard. I had never felt anything that intense from either of the kings besides their pleasure. It didn’t feel like my emotion, but it battered against me.

Six sets of luminous eyes locked onto me, but I saw only one. Luc’s. His silver gaze burned, bright as molten light, sharp as his axe’s blade. She had been given to us by the one person I wanted dead more than anything.

The woman we’d hunted for centuries, since we silenced the Isauran rebellion.

The woman we’d hated since she sent witches carrying the everlife rune into Duskfell and caused the deaths of hundreds, Corinne included—

I yanked myself from Luc’s mind. Sweat beaded along the back of my neck. “I didn’t know.”

My words were soft, barely a whisper. I was nervous, but I should have been terrified. The bond fought to push that terror down, muffling it beneath a manufactured sense of safety. It told me I was fine. I was protected. But out of all the enemies Luc and Jules had, Allegra was the worst possible option for who cast the soulbond and glamour rune on me.

She wanted the kings dead.

They wanted her dead.

And I was standing in between them.

Cédric cleared his throat. “There’s more.”

“Is it worse?” The softness of Jules’s tone sent another chill through me. I forced my gaze away from Luc. The King of Dawn sat perfectly still at my side. He wasn’t smiling. He wasn’t laughing. There wasn’t even a glint of wicked amusement in his golden eyes.

Cédric winced. “Yes.”

“What could be worse than Allegra?” Luc almost growled.

Cédric hesitated.

Luc’s irritation sharpened. “Cédric.”

The Crown Mage straightened. “Allegra cast more than a soulbond on her. I can’t tell for sure what’s under the second glamour rune, but…”

Roxiana leaned back in her chair, arms folding across her chest. “Cédric, if you don’t spit it out, I will.”

Cédric shot her a flat look. “Allegra was an expert at casting. She wove the first glamour rune over the soulbond, and then the second glamour over a secondary rune.”

Before Luc could snap at the Crown Mage again, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a vial of blood. The same one he’d used to collect my blood in the throne room? Probably. He handed it to Luc.

With a slight crease between his brows, Luc lifted the vial, his silver eyes fixed on me. I couldn’t breathe. The room was too quiet, too still.

He unstoppered the vial.

He went stiff as the dead.

The rage stopped. Gone in an instant as Luc inhaled. It was like the bond had gone numb. But that wasn’t possible, was it? I tentatively reached out to it, but in place of any emotion, I only found a glacial, endless void.

The chair beneath me jerked violently back.

I yelped, gripping the armrests in a desperate attempt to steady myself. A large hand slammed down over mine, pinning it in place. Luc leaned in, his towering frame blotting out the room.

The Conqueror looked out from his eyes.

From the nothingness of the bond came a burst of anger so scorching it burned. In his other hand, the vial of blood gleamed between his fingers. “Is there anything you’d like to confess , bride?”

Confess? There was a bite to the word I didn’t like. Something sharp and dangerous beneath the smooth, patient tone. Stars, why couldn’t I feel petrified? The dissonance was as disturbing as the unnatural quiet now leaching through the soulbond from Jules. Usually the King of Dawn was all fire and passion, the King of Dusk ice and intensity, but they had swapped.

“No?” My voice came out uncertain. I glanced over my shoulder at Jules. He had risen from his seat, no longer lounging but standing behind me. A shiver trailed my spine at his silence. “What’s wrong?”

Luc’s stare remained locked on me. “This is a vial of witch’s blood.”

My heart attempted to gallop out of my chest. Then it couldn’t be my blood. Why had it upset the kings so much? I fought to keep my voice even. “Okay?”

Luc didn’t waver. “It’s also a vial of your blood.”

I stared.

And stared.

And stared.

The floor felt too far away, like I was floating, untethered.

“What… do you mean?” I whispered.

Luc released my hand, once again towering over me. The moment he let go, I clenched my fists on the chair’s armrest. I had nothing to hide. Nothing to fear. But stars save me, I couldn’t stop myself from shifting under their gazes.

The silence stretched.

I licked my lips. “I’m not a witch.”

Luc didn’t react, but the bond fluttered with surprise. He could tell if I was lying. He had to be able to tell. My statement had been simple and clear. I was not a witch. There was no way to twist that.

Still, no response.

“That can’t be my blood.”

“We can all smell it,” Jules said at my back.

The hairs on my neck stood at his eerily soft tone. “But—”

Luc put the vial to his lips… and tilted it back. He swallowed my blood in one bob of his throat. Then, without breaking eye contact, he flicked the empty vial toward Cédric.

The Crown Mage caught it easily.

“It’s your blood,” Luc confirmed.

My stomach dropped.

No.

No, no, no. “But you… you’ve consumed my blood before.”

“We consumed your glamoured blood,” he said. “Cédric stripped all the runes from this sample.”

I opened my mouth, struggling to form words. “I think I’d remember if I was a witch.”

But even as I said it, doubt slithered in. Demonic couldn’t be taught. Only those with demon blood knew the language, reading runes as innately as their once-divine ancestors.

I’d always been able to read runes. Not fully. Not clearly. But the meanings had always been there, like whispers curling at the edge of my mind. Karra had described them as screams, so I assumed I only carried traces of demon blood like many humans did.

The kings didn’t need to know I could read runes. I’d never revealed it, and now was the worst possible time. But I needed to know. A question couldn’t be a lie, right?

I wet my lips. “If I were a witch, I’d have magic and be able to understand runes, right?”

Luc ignored the question. His silver gaze flicked to Cédric. “The secondary rune is a suppression rune?”

A suppression rune? Like what they carved on witch collars? Why would I…?

Oh, shit.

I barely heard the reply over the rushing in my ears.

“A strong suppression rune,” Cédric said. “Stronger than I’d ever advise casting on someone for a prolonged period. But if it wasn’t, she would have been discovered during her physicals when she healed too fast for a human.”

Luc met Jules’s gaze over my head. “Take it off.”

“Gladly.” Jules grabbed my wrist and pulled my hand up, my knuckles facing him. I tried to tug from his grasp. He was too strong. Shadows flared from his fingers, but they didn’t turn to claws. Instead, he traced a rune through the air.

Halt .

My every muscle stiffened. I couldn’t move at all.

A slice of metal split the air.

My heart jumped into my throat. I couldn’t turn, but in my periphery, the glint of a blade appeared, blackened metal drinking in the light. The Butcher’s dagger. It wasn’t his skinning blade, Adé, but the other one. Thérèse, with her sharp tip and curve for slashing.

Fuck. A fresh wave of panic clawed up my throat. Jules wasn’t going to cast a rune with shadows, he was going to—

Jules started carving.

I braced for the pain. A sharp flare, a burn, something. But Luc had refreshed his soothing rune on me before we left the palace this morning. The numbing magic still held. But I saw the blood. It dripped down my arm, obscuring most of the runes, but I felt the shape in my skin.

Jules started with a curve at the top, the tip of his blade pressing just deep enough to catch on flesh. Then, a steady downward stroke. The bond between us remained empty. He felt nothing. Not satisfaction. Not anger. Not even cruelty. Just that terrifying, unreadable calm.

He pulsed magic into my hand. The twisting shadows gobbled up my blood.

Unravel. Suppress. Unravel. Soothe .

Pain ripped down my arm, sudden and blinding. A scream attempted to rip from my throat. But I couldn’t open my mouth, couldn’t move anything beyond my eyes. All I could do was sit there, tears spilling silently down my cheeks, as my nerves caught fire.

With a final burst of heat, it stopped. I opened my eyes. The magic had devoured all the blood down my arm, but my skin still screamed, the rune cut into my open flesh.

Unravel. Suppress. Unravel. Soothe.

I blinked rapidly at the shapes. They were different now, not whispers against my mind, but stronger.

Like screams.

My chest rose and fell in short, frantic bursts. Pain twisted in my gut. No. This wasn’t happening. That still didn’t mean I was a witch. Maybe these were just… stronger runes.

But deep down, I knew.

Blood started seeping from the open wound. Jules hadn’t drawn a healing rune. Was he going to leave me with the cut? Daemium injuries didn’t heal on their own. I would bleed forever—or until an infection killed me—

Before I could spiral further, Jules lifted my hand. His grip was almost gentle now, his breath warm against my skin. He swiped his tongue over the wound. When he released it, my flesh was healed, not a trace or scar left behind.

Luc moved at last. He lifted a hand, drawing a final rune into the air. Release .

My body unlocked. I slumped forward, sucking in a sharp, desperate breath.

Stars save me. I was a witch?

Oh, no. No, no, no. I couldn’t be a witch. How the fuck did that make any sense? My breath rushed out of my lungs in heavy pants. The walls of the Council Chamber pressed in. The scent of blood— my blood —still clung to the air, coppery and thick.

This wasn’t real.

It couldn’t be real.

But I knew it was.

Witch. The word echoed over and over, rattling inside my skull. Allegra. The soulbond. The suppression rune. The room was suddenly too small to fit all these revelations.

I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t fucking breathe. My fingers clawed at my chest, trying to loosen something—anything—beneath my ribs.

I squeezed my eyes shut. Tried to focus. Tried to count.

One, two, three—

My vision swam. My stomach clenched. My nausea rose.

Four, five, six—

My ears buzzed.

I was falling apart.

And they were all watching me do it.

“Is that it?” Isabeau asked, her tone as dry as ever.

I jerked. The council had all watched the kings remove the suppression rune with stoic expressions. Now they were all staring. Isabeau’s slight frown. Roxiana’s furrowed brow. Sabas’s narrowed gaze. Cédric’s wide golden eyes, a mix of curiosity in his confusion.

My stomach swirled again, a harder twist. “Is what it?”

“I’d have thought she’d have more power, too, given she survived the bonding,” Cédric said, ignoring me.

More power? “What are you talking about?”

“The suppression rune was strong enough to suppress every trait passed along by her demonblood,” Luc said. “If she’s been wearing it since infancy, it might have caused permanent damage to her power.”

Cédric nodded. “Possibly.”

Sabas leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. “Then how did she survive the onslaught of your power during the bonding? That part never made sense to me, but her being a witch clearly wasn’t the answer.”

“Her mother revealed the soulbond was cast during pregnancy to improve compatibility,” Luc said. “Even though she has little power now, she was likely born strong enough to survive the bonding.”

“Wait.” My voice came out strangled, barely a breath. “Are you saying my magic is broken?”

Luc finally looked at me, tension still rigid in his jaw, the bond straining to dull his fury into something softer. “It appears that way. You still look entirely human because of the second glamour, but without the suppression rune, we can sense your power… or what little remains of it.”

The words landed like a slap.

My magic was broken.

Broken .

Just like the rest of me.

A laugh bubbled up, sharp and wrong. Then another. Then another. My head tipped back against the chair as I tried to stifle it, tried to press my lips together, but it kept slipping out between gasps.

“Is something funny, witch?” Luc’s words were calm, but his wrath simmered.

“No, not at all. Not at all,” I said, choking back another laugh. But it didn’t stop. “It’s just… it’s just my luck that I turned out to be a witch with broken magic.”

Cédric tilted his head, the faintest trace of a frown between his brows. “It’s damaged power—”

“Same thing,” I hissed, cutting him off.

A hand fisted in the back of my hair and tugged. A sharp squeal tore from my lips at the flash of pain, my head jerking back.

Jules stared down at me, detached and composed. “Such attitude, witch. It’s like you’ve forgotten who you’re speaking with.”

I tried to turn my head, to twist from his grip, but he held firm. “You can’t hurt me.”

“We can’t kill you.” Jules’s fingers untangled from my hair, his knuckles grazing my jaw as he circled my chair. “There are so many options between here and death.”

I shuddered. “You can feel my pain.”

His smile widened. “Mhm-hmm. But our bond is new, so it won’t hurt us that much.” He flicked his gaze to Luc, who gave a single nod. “What’s a little pain if it gets us the answers we want?”

My heart thundered at the chill in his voice. He grinned, but the emptiness behind it made my blood run cold. It went beyond ice. Not even Luc could numb himself like that.

I had been wrong. I thought I had witnessed every part of Jules.

It was time I really met the Butcher.

I swallowed. The bond tried to smother my panic down, but I clung to it. “You haven’t asked me any questions.”

“We have before.” The Butcher crouched smoothly before me, all predatory grace. “I don’t know how you lied, but this time, you’ll tell us all your truths.”

“I didn’t know.” My voice shook. My eyes darted between them. Safe. Unsafe. Safe. Unsafe. I couldn’t decide which they were anymore. “I can’t… I can’t be a witch.”

“Except for the fact that you are.” The Butcher stroked his fingers through my hair, tucking a loose strand behind my ear. It was the only gentle thing left in the King of Dawn. The usual warmth, the levity, was gone from within him.

It was a lie. It wasn’t right. What had he done to himself?

I met his eyes, pleading. “But I didn’t know.”

“Give me your hand.”

“Jules—”

“You have no right to use his name anymore, witch,” Luc cut in.

I swallowed and raised my hand from the chair’s armrest. It trembled slightly. But when the Butcher took my hand in his, the shaking stilled. The panic in me started to ease.

Safe. Safe. Safe.

Lie. Lie. Lie.

His fingertips trailed along my index finger, slow and deliberate. My thumb pressed lightly against the side of her knuckle, my other fingers tracing the delicate bones beneath her skin. So soft. So breakable. “Why did you volunteer for the harvest?”

“I already told you—”

I sighed. What a shame. Why did they always start with lies? Predictable. Luc and I braced for her pain. If only my godcurse could dull the sensations my soulbound felt. But it was no matter. Pain and I were old friends.

My grip shifted. My thumb dug in, my fingers wrenched, and with a sharp, practiced twist—

Snap.

Agony burst through my hand, dragging me back into my body. White-hot. Blinding. A ragged scream tore from my throat.

Jules broke my fucking finger .

I jerked violently, but I didn’t get far. Luc was behind me in an instant, his hands slamming down onto my shoulders, forcing me still. My muscles locked beneath his grip, trapped between them.

My vision blurred.

My breath stuttered.

The Butcher’s grip only gentled. His thumb brushed slow circles over my palm, as if he hadn’t just shattered something inside me. “See, we don’t trust you. When you were just a human, we could maybe believe your innocence.”

Luc’s voice was a dark cut of sound behind me. “We wanted to believe it.”

“But you’re a witch.” The Butcher almost sounded fond. “And Allegra cast the spells on you.”

“I didn’t know,” I whimpered.

The Butcher hummed as if considering that. “Why did you volunteer for the harvest?”

“Jules, please.”

He leaned in, his lips trailing along my jaw, my cheek—

He licked the path of my tears.

When he reached my forehead, he murmured, “Why?”

I sucked in a breath, forcing the pain down. I would survive this. I had to. “To save my sister.”

“She’s not your sister,” Luc said. “If you’re a witch and your mother’s human, your father can’t be human, too.”

The words landed like his axe in my ribs. I stared at him, stunned. Disoriented. My breath slowed. My pulse didn’t.

No. That wasn’t…

Aislin was my sister.

She had to be.

But the math was simple. Two humans couldn’t make a witch. My stomach twisted violently.

“Why, Nessa?” The Butcher’s voice was soft, almost coaxing.

I swallowed hard, steeling my spine even as my breath shuddered in my lungs. “My answer hasn’t changed.”

His touch drifted, a deliberate caress over my middle finger.

My stomach clenched. “No, please don’t—”

A sharp snap.

Pain exploded through my hand. It didn’t come in waves. It was immediate, all-consuming, radiating from the broken joint in brutal pulses. I screamed, the sound raw and ragged. “You fucking bastards—”

Luc’s hand slid from my shoulder to my throat. My voice cut off with a strangled gasp.

The Butcher sighed. “You’re usually such a good girl for us, witch. When we ask a question, we expect an answer.”

“What does your Exalted Mother have planned?” Luc asked, his hatred spiking at the mention of Allegra.

“I don’t know.” I didn’t want to sob the words, but I couldn’t hold them in. “You know I’m telling the truth. And if you didn’t, I’ve spent far too many days in pain to ever choose it when there’s another option. Please don’t—”

Snap.

A fresh bolt of agony splintered through my bones. A broken, gasping sound tore from my throat. I clenched my jaw, but the tears still fell.

I couldn’t get away.

I couldn’t stop this.

I was held in place by my soulbound, surrounded by four other vampires in the center of a castle filled with them. An impire filled with them.

The kings didn’t believe me. I couldn’t even blame them. I wouldn’t believe me, either. But I didn’t know Allegra. I didn’t know her plans. I didn’t know why she’d placed a soulbond on me before I was even born or what she hoped to gain by binding me to the Imperium.

I was entirely helpless to stop this pain—both the kind radiating through my hand and the kind crushing my soul.

I wasn’t special. The kings wouldn’t change. The happily ever afters of my romance books weren’t real, were never real, not in this world, not for me. Never for me. My fate was sealed, no matter which path I took.

All that awaited me was agony and apathy.

I didn’t want to fucking do this.

“What does—”

“I don’t fucking know what Allegra has planned,” I said, cutting Luc off. “I’ve never met her. I didn’t even know her name two weeks ago. I volunteered to save my sister . I understand that’s too much of a coincidence for you to accept, and maybe Allegra planned it somehow, but from my perspective? I was saving my fucking sister from you .”

The Butcher didn’t move, but his focus sharpened, unwavering as he kneeled before me. Behind me, Luc’s grip remained firm on my throat. A silent warning. A reminder of who held me in place.

Both of their eyes darkened.

My breath hitched, my mangled hand pulsing. But fuck it, I had already started yelling. “Why doom Aislin when this was my fate either way? I couldn’t fulfill your stupid, fucking child quota. Even if I wasn’t fucking infertile, it hurts just to get aroused.” A bitter laugh choked me. “Maybe if it didn’t, I’d have at least tried, like my mother did. But I couldn’t even do that, so it wasn’t a choice. It was an inevitability. One I couldn’t do anything about.

“Just like I can’t do any-fucking-thing about this. Someone else made the choice, and I just pay the price.” I lifted my chin, glaring down at the Butcher even as Luc’s hand pressed tighter against my pulse. “Just break the rest of my fucking fingers already. I don’t know anything, and I’m fucking tired of this.”

My chest rose and fell, breath shuddering past clenched teeth. Beyond it, silence. The council didn’t seem to be breathing. The Butcher didn’t answer. The Conqueror didn’t move.

I could feel them, though. Watching. Processing. Deciding.

I had given them everything.

Still pinned beneath Luc’s grip, I felt it the moment he made the decision. His fingers loosened a fraction, just enough to tell me the worst was over.

The Butcher exhaled slowly. Then, with the same care he’d taken before, he stroked his thumb over my shattered hand. As if he’d merely bruised it, as if the bones beneath my skin hadn’t been twisted and ruined by his hands.

The torture was done.

For now.

His thumb finally stilled over my palm. “Very well, witch. We can pick this up later.”

A fresh shudder ran through me.

Luc let go of my throat. I gasped, air rushing back into my lungs as I sagged back against the chair. My mind reeled from the abrupt shift.

I barely had time to think before Luc snapped his fingers toward the door. It opened. Estrella and Tristan walked in and bowed.

“Take her to our chambers,” Luc said, his voice smooth and cold. “Lock her in the Mortal Bride’s bedchamber.”

The Butcher leaned back on his heels, still crouched before me, his golden eyes a strange mix of satisfaction and something darker. He lifted my hand between us and inspected his work. His lips twitched slightly, as if debating whether to say more.

But in the end, he didn’t. He only kissed the back of my knuckles, his mouth brushing over broken bones. I flinched, pain shooting through my hand. I barely held in my whimper.

But even my ragged inhale was loud enough for a vampire to hear.

The Butcher traced a quick pattern. Heal . The pain vanished in an instant, bones snapping back into place as if they’d never been broken. He’d mended my fingers just as easily as he’d shattered them.

I glared at him. I wouldn’t thank him for healing me, not after he injured me in the first place.

A faint frown tugged at his mouth. No other emotion surfaced, but if one had, it might’ve been confusion. Like he didn’t know why he’d healed me.

I didn’t have time to question it. A second later, strong arms lifted me out of my chair. Tristan. His grip was firm, careful, but not gentle. I didn’t have the strength to fight him. Didn’t have the will.

The kings looked away as Tristan carried me out, Estrella at his side. Luc turned his focus to the council, his expression carved from ice. The Butcher lingered a beat longer before he exhaled, the void in him thawing suddenly.

When he rose, he was once again the smiling charmer. “Well. That was illuminating.”

Sabas leaned forward, fingers steepled. “Was it? She didn’t tell us anything.”

“She told us plenty.” Luc’s silver eyes cut toward the Crown Enforcer. “But our bride isn’t the priority now. Allegra is—”

The door shut with a heavy thud, like the closing of a coffin.