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~ D evin ~

The Tower was quieter at night.

Not silent—never silent—but still. The kind of stillness that clung to ancient places, where the weight of memory lived in the mortar, and magic never truly slept. Torches burned low in their sconces. The walls hummed faintly with old wards. And below The Spire, the Rift pulsed in the dark, whispering to the shadows.

I stood by the stone balcony that overlooked the western cliffs, the wind cold and briny on my face. The stars were bright. Clear. It should have felt peaceful.

But it didn’t.

Behind me, Kassio leaned against the railing, arms crossed, a wineglass in hand, his expression unreadable. “She said yes,” he said at last.

“Yes,” I replied.

“And you haven’t told her.”

My jaw clenched. “Told her what?”

“That you love her.”

I didn’t respond.

He exhaled slowly, swirling the wine in his glass. “You’re a fool, brother.”

“She’s not ready to hear it. She’s been through enough the last few days.”

“No, you’re not ready to say it.”

I turned to face him. “It doesn’t matter. The ritual binds us. She’ll be protected. That’s all that matters.”

His smile was thin and sharp. “That’s what you told yourself when you were bleeding in my arms outside the Blackwall. When you nearly died trying to save a village of people who spat your name.”

I didn’t want to talk about the Blackwall. I didn’t want to talk about Cleo either. Because if I said what I felt—if I let it rise—then I wouldn’t be able to hold the curse at bay.

Love and shadow didn’t mix.

Not for me.

“She’s more than I expected,” I said quietly. “More than any of us deserve.”

Kassio nodded. “And yet, she’s yours.”

He took a slow sip of wine, then sighed. “There’s something else.”

I knew it the moment he said it. “Jarrik.”

Kassio nodded. “He returned to the Tower last night. Filed a formal complaint with the Council of Seven. Claims she’s his betrothed. Presented a signed marriage contract. My father will have to listen to their claim.”

My stomach turned to stone. “She’s mine.”

“Your word against his. He claims you used coercion to steal his bonded Starborn. He says you attacked him unprovoked and endangered a sealed contract of The Spire.”

“It wasn’t sealed,” I growled.

“It bears the Matron’s mark. Technically, Cleo’s guardian. Her mother. The law is clear.”

My hands curled into fists. “Cleo is not a child. Nor is she property to be bartered or sold. What did Jarrick give that old hag?”

“Who knows? He’s trying to use the old law,” Kassio added, gaze darkening. “The blood-right clause. If he convinces the council that Cleo’s power was bonded to him first—even momentarily—he can challenge you.”

“No,” I said, voice low. “She was never his.”

“He doesn’t care about the truth. He’s desperate. You humiliated him. And you’ve already won her heart.”

I turned away, breathing hard. I didn’t want to have to kill him, but I would. “If he touches her, he dies.”

And then Kassio said the words that made everything worse. “The king has summoned The Knight Eternal.”

My heart skipped. Void take me. The Knight Eternal was the king’s magical form, a mage without emotion or bias. His magic was so powerful, the king’s personality withdrew completely. It was like speaking to an entity from beyond the Void. For all intents and purposes, a god without concern for the cares—or passions—of mere mortals. If Jarrick could convince him of his lies, the outcome would be dire.

“The council requests formal judgment,” Kassio said. “They’re invoking blood precedent. You know what that means.”

I did. The Knight Eternal wasn’t just the king of The Spire. He was its oldest living pillar. A descendant of the first human soul to cross through the Void from Earth—a man whose blood had merged with shadow and become something else. Something immortal. His magic had helped seal the Rift during the first eclipse. His power kept the council from tearing itself apart.

He was Devin’sfatherby blood. But he was not a father in any way that mattered. He was an immortal being inhabiting a feeble, mortal shell.

“He won’t side with me,” I said. “The Matron did sign the betrothal agreement. Jarrick traveled with her for an entire day before I caught up to them. He could claim—” Claim he’d touched her. Kissed her. Made her his.

“No, he won’t side with you,” Kassio agreed. “But he might side with her. ”

That possibility hadn’t occurred to me.

“The Knight Eternal has seen many things,” Kassio murmured. “But even he hasn’t seen a Starborn choose a Death Mage for a mate. Not in five centuries.” He clapped me on the shoulder. “So, maybe don’t keep her in the dark much longer, hmm? Tell her how you feel? Give her a reason to fight for you.”

And with that, he vanished down the stairs, leaving me alone beneath the stars, with the weight of my bloodline and the whisper of her name already on my lips.

~ Cleo ~

The scroll burst into flames the moment I touched it.

“Again?” I shouted, flinging the smoldering parchment across the stone floor. “That was the fifth one!”

“Seventh,” the mage beside me muttered, brushing soot from the sleeve of his once-golden robe, now more of a scorched brown with edges that curled like dried leaves.

Mistress Elarra had lived through seven magical wars, three plagues, and the accidental banishment of a minor god. She looked like it. Her spine hunched with age, her hair fell in brittle wisps to her belt, and her right eye twitched whenever I so much as looked at another spell.

“I thought this was a controlled exercise!” I said, still watching the charred remains of the scroll.

She grunted. “It was. Until you touched it. ”

My hands tingled with residual magic—golden fire pulsing just under the skin, wild and untamed.

“I don’t understand why I can’t control it,” I muttered.

“Because you were born with a fire no one’s seen in five hundred years,” she said, shuffling across the room with a limp. “And because I, unfortunately, am not a Starborn.”

I stared at her.

She smiled—faint, dry, and far too cheerful considering her left eyebrow was still smoking. “Do I look like someone who has any idea what they’re doing?”

“You’re the royal tutor for The Spire. You train all the Death Mages. Necromancers. Even the vampires respect you. Unless the chatter around the breakfast table was all lies.”

“I’m also two hundred and twelve years old. The last Starborn died three hundred years before I was born. Everything I know about your kind is written in tomes older than The Spire, secrets preserved from the other side of the Void.”

“From Earth? My bloodline was from Earth?” The planet was long past legend and into mythical territory. If the fae and Vampires didn’t have elders older than the stones themselves, all memory of the human home world would have long been forgotten.

“So, you really don’t know what you’re doing.”

“Not a damn clue,” she said, cheerfully. “But I’ve never exploded in the same place twice, and I call that a win.”

I groaned, turning away as yet another spell fizzled uselessly in the center of the training hall. The ancient stones beneath my boots pulsed with barely contained magic. Everything in this place was too full—too loud. My own power sparked against the walls like it wanted to fight.

I felt like I was going to explode.

Again.

I gathered my things—mostly singed scraps of parchment—and one relatively intact book on Starborn lore that I’d stolen from the restricted shelf while Mistress Elarra pretended not to notice.

“I need a break,” I muttered.

“Just don’t set anything on fire that isn’t trying to kill you first, ” she called after me.

“No promises!” I marched out of the training wing and into the cold, echoing halls of The Spire’s main tower. It smelled like magic and stone dust, centuries of secrets soaked into every brick. Tapestries lined the walls—scenes of long-dead mages standing against horrors I could barely comprehend. Some of them glowed faintly, pulsing in time with my heartbeat.

I didn’t care about old books, spells, secrets or myths about old planets. I needed Devin. I needed something solid . Something that made sense.

I turned the corner—and walked straight into a nightmare.

“Lady Rathmore,” Jarrik purred, stepping from the shadows like a smirking cat. “How delightful to see you again.”

I stopped cold. The book slipped slightly from my fingers.

He looked better than he had any right to—his black and silver robes immaculate, his expression carved in smug marble. His hair was slicked back, his boots polished, and his eyes gleamed like shards of obsidian glass. He bowed low, mockingly. “You look radiant.”

“Get out of my way,” I said.

“Tsk. So cold,” he said, straightening. “Not the way a fiancée should speak to her betrothed.”

“You are not my?—”

“But I am.” His smile widened. “You see, your Devin has failed to complete the bonding. Technically, you are still unclaimed. And according to Spire law?—”

“Don’t you dare quote law to me.”

“There is a contract,” he said smoothly, ignoring my tone. “A betrothal contract. Signed by the Matron of your orphanage, your mother.”

I blinked. “She’s not my mother.”

“Your legal guardian. We traveled together, Cleo. Alone. So unfortunate Devin attacked us without warning and stole you from me.”

My stomach turned. “You know that’s a lie. You were the one who kidnapped me.”

“I filed my claim with King Polaris,” Jarrik said, stepping closer. “The Knight Eternal will hear it this evening. You’ll be present, of course. I wouldn’t want to be accused of trying to force anything.” He was close now. Too close.

I held up the book between us like a shield. “Void take you, Jarrik.”

“Perhaps,” he murmured. “The Rift is cracked. The creatures beyond the Void are coming to us.” He brushed past me, the chill of his magic brushing against my skin like frostbite. “Wear something formal,” he said over his shoulder. “This is, after all, a royal judgment, and, most likely, our wedding ceremony. You can hate me if you wish, but we need your Starborn magic to heal the fracture in the Rift. I won’t sacrifice all of Lunaterra for your childish desires.”

And then he vanished down the hall, leaving me rooted in place.

Shaking.

I stared down at the ancient book in my hands, writings so old they had supposedly traveled through the Void from Earth. The ancient title shimmered in golden ink:

The Starborn Legacy: Flame, Fire, and the Veil.

For a long moment, I just stood there. Angry. Confused. Hurt. But beneath it all— something else. Resolve. I wasn’t a child. I wasn’t a servant. I wasn’t a pawn. I was Starborn.

My fingers tightened on the book’s cover.

If they thought I was going to show up in some stupid gown and politely sit through their rituals and judgments while two Death Mages argued over who got to own me like a prize, they were wrong. I wasn’t a prize. I was a damn inferno. And they were going to learn that the hard way.

I turned on my heel and marched toward my room, the book heavy in my hands and my magic already simmering beneath my skin. Let Jarrick and Devin argue with one another. Plead with their king. Let them summon their entire royal court. Every Death Mage. Every Necromancer. Every vampire. Let them try and decide my fate.

Void take them all. I wasn’t a frightened child. I was a woman. A Starborn mage. This time, I was going to choose it for myself.