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CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

BELLE

T he servant’s dress was scratchy and too big. The coarse fabric clung to all the wrong places. My wings were pinned inside. They ached from the confinement, but I couldn’t afford even a flicker of magic to alleviate the discomfort. I needed to blend in, to be invisible.

The streets of Pridehaven were alive with unrestrained joy. The entire city was caught in the thrall of celebration and anticipation. Overhead, the Hunter's Eclipse loomed massive and luminous, its pale crescent edge slowly turning black as Lunaterra began to pass between Avarix and Lyra.

Banners of gold and white hung from every window, the sigils of Adom’s royal house rippling in the soft breeze. Flowers were everywhere—lavender and white lilies, their heady scents mingling with the aromas of roasted meats, sugared pastries, and spiced wine. Children darted through the crowd, their laughter rising above the strains of music played by a troupe of fae musicians on a nearby stage.

Dancers spun in circles, their movements as bright as the sunlight glinting off their sequined costumes. A shifter in wolf form howled at the darkening moon, and the crowd erupted in cheers. The rhythm of the drums thrummed in my chest as I weaved through the revelers, keeping my bonnet pulled low over my face. The air buzzed with energy and the promise of something greater—a union that would bring peace and prosperity, or so everyone believed.

A ripple of excitement spread as the daylight began to shift. People tilted their heads to watch the slow encroachment of Lunaterra's shadow on the moon. Conversations hushed, replaced by a collective breath of awe. I slipped out of the vibrant scene, my steps purposeful as they carried me toward the prison.

The moment I crossed the threshold into the prison, the air shifted. It reeked of mildew, unwashed bodies, and the sharp tang of despair. The weak flicker of torchlight cast jagged shadows on the damp stone walls, their surfaces streaked with grime and moisture.

The lively sounds of the impending eclipse and wedding festivities faded into muffled echoes, replaced by the harsh scrape of metal against stone, the rattling of chains, and the occasional low groan from a prisoner buried deep in their misery. A chill seeped into my skin, biting through the coarse fabric of the dress I'd borrowed from Charlotte to disguise myself. Though borrow was the wrong word. I knew she wouldn't want this back.

My fingers tightened around the pardon papers I held. My fingertips whitened as the weight of what I was doing pressed down on me like the cold, damp air around me. I set the papers inside a window, my knuckles cracked as I coaxed my fingers to release their hold.

“Pardon papers.”

The guard's thick fingers unfolded the papers I presented him, his brow furrowing as he scanned the page. The prince’s seal glinted in the dim torchlight. I held my breath, praying I'd done it right. I'd taken the seal from Adom's desk after climbing out of his bed last night.

With a grunt, the guard retrieved a heavy ring of keys from his belt. “Follow me.”

He led me down a dim corridor, the keyring at his side jingling with each heavy step. The walk likely took five minutes, but it felt like hours. Finally, we arrived at a cell in the darkest part of the prison. The figure inside was just a shadow slumped in the far corner, motionless. The guard unlocked the iron bars with a grunt and swung the door open.

“He’s all yours.”

Jorge emerged, his gait uneven, and it was only then I realized why. He favored one side, the side where he was armless. Stripped of the technology that made him a formidable warrior, he looked smaller somehow. Vulnerable. But his glare—sharp and unyielding—held no weakness.

His eyes landed on me, and I felt their weight immediately. He knew. He knew I wasn’t Charlotte. The silence was crushing, but I didn’t break it. Instead, I stepped forward, my arm outstretched to help steady him.

He recoiled from my touch, jerking back as though I was about to gut him. I couldn’t blame him. The lies, the betrayals—they were a knot so tangled I couldn’t tell who was the most guilty. Him, Charlotte, Adom… or me. All I knew was that none of us would escape this unscathed.

The walk to the prison doors felt endless. Neither of us spoke. When we reached the entrance, the guard handed Jorge his prosthetics, piece by piece. The gates clanged shut with the two of us on the other side.

Outside, the Hunter’s Moon dominated the sky. Avarix's once-bright surface was nearly consumed by Lunaterra’s shadow. A deep, coppery hue spread across his face, the pale silver glow replaced by a haunting red. The air felt heavier, as if the eclipse had drawn the breath from the heavens.

Jorge sat on a raised stone and began to put himself back together. I stood back, silent, as he methodically reattached his prosthetics. There was something ritualistic about the way he secured the straps, tested the joints, and flexed his mechanical fingers. With each addition, the man who emerged from the cell became the warrior again, piece by piece, until he was whole—or as whole as he could be.

“Let me guess. She traded herself for my freedom.”

I nodded, unable to meet his gaze.

“And you agreed because you love him.”

I turned away, my throat tightening. Words wouldn’t come.

“Yeah, I understand.” Jorge gave a humorless laugh. “I had every plan to kill that bastard, but he got under my skin, too.”

The breath I’d been holding slipped out, half a laugh, half a sigh. “Adom acts like he’s a monster. But he’s really just a cub who wants to cuddle.”

Jorge actually gave an amused laugh this time. “I’m sure he’ll appreciate hearing that from the woman he loves.”

I glanced at him, surprised, and found his grin mirrored my own. Two strangers bound by a shared burden. It was a fleeting connection, but one I desperately needed.

Then the wedding bells tolled.

The actual vow part of Lunaterran weddings was the fastest part of the rituals. It would all be over in ten minutes. There was no way we could make it to the palace in time to stop it. Even if that had been a thought in Jorge's mind, he didn't move from the rock. I sank down beside him.

Ten minutes passed. I doubt either of us breathed once during that time.

Something would go wrong. Adom would realize the fairy he was marrying wasn't me, and he'd call it off. Charlotte would get cold feet and run away again.

The wedding bells tolled a second time, announcing that the vows had been said. It was done. Adom and Charlotte were married.

In silent agreement, Jorge and I shifted our weight on the rock to move to standing. We rose on unsteady feet and looked around us. Overhead, the shadow of Lunaterra was fully seated over Avarix. The First Moon had a red tinge across its face, as though it had been scarred. I don't know about Jorge, but I certainly felt like a blood sacrifice.

And then a roar shook the ground.

It rolled through the city like thunder, raw and guttural, resonating with primal power. It wasn’t a roar of celebration or triumph. It was rage—and heartbreak.

Jorge and I shared another look. This one was filled with the smallest hint of hope. Before we could move, we were surrounded. Guards poured in from every direction. Not shifter guards. These were fae. Jorge’s body tensed beside me, his mechanical limbs whirring faintly as he prepared to fight.