The kingdom burned the day I was promised to my enemy.

I remember the stench first smoke, iron, blood. It clung to the air like a curse, wrapping itself around every breath I dragged into my lungs. The battlefield stretched beneath me in endless ruin, the grass scorched black, bodies scattered like broken dolls. Above, the sky was a smudge of crimson and ash, as if even the heavens had bled for us.

And yet, through all the ruin, my father’s voice echoed in my head: “Survive, Seraphina. Survive, and take everything back.”

I was the last Duskbane left standing. The Light Court’s line of fire, extinguished.

Now I was nothing more than a bargaining chip, a bride for the Shadow Court’s ruthless heir the man who had shattered my world with a single command.

Prince Kaelith Veyrion.

Even his name tasted like poison on my tongue.

The wedding was held in the grand hall of the Shadow Court’s fortress, a place carved from obsidian stone that seemed to devour every glimmer of light. Thorned vines crept up the black walls, their tips glistening with beads of crimson sap that looked too much like blood. The ceiling arched high above, painted with constellations that flickered faintly, as if real stars had been trapped in glass.

They dressed me in red. Not white, not gold, not the silver gowns of the Light Court brides. No they laced me into a gown the color of spilled blood, its bodice tight enough to bruise, its skirts heavy enough to drown me. My hair, long and black with streaks of silver at the ends, spilled down my back like midnight unraveling. A crown of thorns rested on my head, the tips pressing against my scalp until I felt the trickle of warm blood.

The Shadow Court did not believe in beauty without pain.

“Smile,” whispered Lady Elaris, my only friend left, her voice tight with fear as she adjusted the gown. “If they see weakness, they’ll devour you whole.”

I lifted my chin, forcing my hazel eyes flecked with stubborn gold to glitter like polished glass. Let them look. Let them think I was docile. My dagger, strapped against my thigh beneath the folds of my dress, burned like a promise against my skin.

This marriage would not be my end. It would be my weapon.

The doors groaned open, and there he was.

Prince Kael.

The man who had razed my kingdom.

He stood at the far end of the hall, framed by firelight. His dark armor clung to his tall frame, black steel etched with a wolf sigil that gleamed like silver under the torchlight. His hair, long and raven-dark, was tied back at the nape of his neck, revealing the harsh cut of his jaw. A scar slashed across his mouth, pulling the corner of his lips into something that was not quite a smile, not quite a sneer.

But it was his eyes that trapped me stormy grey, cold, rimmed with an icy blue that glowed faintly, as though the storm inside him could never be contained.

When those eyes locked onto me, my breath stuttered. Not from fear. From fury.

He walked toward me, slow and steady, each step ringing against the obsidian floor. The hall was silent, save for the click of his boots and the pounding of my heart. The nobles of the Shadow Court leaned forward in their seats, hungry for the spectacle, for the moment the broken princess would be chained to their future king.

When he reached me, he didn’t bow. Didn’t smile. Didn’t soften.

He simply leaned close enough for me to smell the steel and smoke on him and murmured, “If you plan to stab me, Princess, aim for the heart. Otherwise, don’t waste my time.”

My throat tightened. My fingers twitched where they hovered near my skirts. How did he

His storm-grey eyes flicked down, to the faint outline of the dagger strapped to my thigh. He smirked, faint and cruel. “I’m not afraid of your little blade.”

I forced a smile, sharp as glass. “You should be.”

The priest’s voice rang out, low and guttural, reciting vows in the ancient tongue. Words of blood, fire, eternity. Words that sounded more like curses than blessings. I repeated them, my voice steady, though inside I was trembling with rage. Kael’s hand wrapped around mine, his grip iron, his thumb brushing lazily against my knuckles as if to remind me of the chains I could not yet see.

When it was done, when the crown of thorns was pressed deeper into my head and the nobles roared their approval, Kael leaned close again, his lips brushing my ear.

“Tonight,” he whispered, voice rough and dangerous, “you will learn that hate burns just as sweet as desire.”

The wedding feast was a blur of music, laughter, and goblets brimming with blood-red wine. Shadows danced on the walls, cast by chandeliers of black iron shaped like cages. The Shadow Court celebrated as if the war had never ended, as if my people had not been slaughtered in the name of this unholy union.

I sat beside Kael at the head table, stiff and silent, every muscle aching from the weight of my gown and the weight of his gaze. He barely touched his food, his eyes on me more than the hall. Watching. Waiting. Studying me like I was both prey and challenge.

I kept my chin high, my dagger closer.

Lady Elaris slipped me a glance from where she poured wine for the lords, her eyes wide with warning. Be careful, they said. He’s dangerous.

But I already knew.

The Shadow Prince radiated danger. It seeped from every line of him, every calculated movement, every curl of his scarred lips. And yet, beneath it all, there was something else. Something darker. Something that made my chest tighten when I should have only felt hate.

I hated myself for noticing.

Night came too soon.

They led me to the royal chambers our chambers now. The doors shut behind me with a thud that echoed like a coffin sealing. The room was vast, lit by fire and moonlight. A bed draped in black velvet dominated the space, its posts carved with wolves and serpents.

Kael was already inside, stripping away his armor piece by piece. Each clang of steel against stone echoed through the chamber, sharp and deliberate. His back was broad, his body honed like a weapon forged in war. Scars etched pale lines across his skin reminders of battles won, of blood spilled.

When he turned, his eyes burned into mine.

I tightened my grip on the dagger hidden beneath my gown.

He noticed, of course. He noticed everything.

“You’re trembling,” he said softly, though his tone was anything but gentle.

“I’m not afraid of you.”

His lips curved into that cruel half-smile. “Good. Fear bores me.”

He crossed the room in three long strides, stopping close enough that I could feel the heat of his body, smell the faint smoke in his hair. His hand lifted, brushing one of the silver streaks from my face, his touch rough, calloused, lingering.

“You burn bright, Princess,” he murmured. “But fire can either warm… or consume.”

My dagger was already in my hand, pressed between us, the blade’s tip grazing his chest. His heart.

Kael looked down at it, then back at me. Unflinching. Unafraid.

“Do it,” he whispered.

The chamber went silent, the flames crackling louder, the air heavy between us. My hazel-gold eyes met his storm-grey ones, and for one terrifying heartbeat, I wanted to. Not to kill him. To kiss him.

I hated myself for it.

My hand trembled. My resolve wavered.

And Kael, damn him, only smiled.

“Not yet,” he murmured, wrapping his fingers around my wrist, lowering the blade. “One day, perhaps. But not tonight.”

His lips brushed the shell of my ear, his voice dark silk.

“Tonight, you’re mine.”