The morning after was nothing like a fairytale.
I woke alone.
Lucian was already gone, the sheets beside me cold.
The massive bedchamber — all black stone, crimson silk, and the scent of sex and blood — felt emptier than a tomb.
A heavy silver chain, delicate but unbreakable, was fastened around my ankle, linking me to the bedpost.
Not a prisoner, I told myself, heart sinking.
A Queen. A claimed Queen.
But the chain told a different story.
A story of possession. Of warning.
You belong to him now.
Forever.
I rose slowly, wincing at the aches between my thighs — a dark, delicious reminder of what we had done.
The thick, velvet curtains covering the windows stirred with a breeze.
A whisper.
I caught it — just barely — on the edge of hearing.
"Seraphina…"
I froze, heart pounding.
The voice was thin, serpentine, not Lucian's.
It came from beyond the thick stone walls, from the shadowed garden outside.
"Come to me…" it coaxed. "Before he devours all that you are."
I ripped the chain from the bedpost with a snarl of rage — a new power surging through me, fueled by the Blood Rite that still burned in my veins.
The heavy silver snapped like paper.
Lucian had underestimated me.
Or maybe he hadn't.
Maybe he'd wanted me to break free.
I slipped through the door, moving barefoot and silent down the torchlit corridors.
The rogue guards didn't stop me.
They watched with wary, reverent eyes, some bowing low as I passed.
They smelled it on me — the blood magic, the dark gift.
They smelled their Queen.
The garden was a wild, cursed place — thorns as tall as trees, black roses blooming under a blood-red sun.
At the center stood a figure cloaked in tattered silver.
Not a rogue. Not a wolf.
Something older.
Something worse.
"You wear his mark," the creature hissed, lifting a skeletal hand. "But your soul is still your own, girl. For now."
"Who are you?" I demanded, my voice stronger than I felt.
It laughed — a dry, rattling sound.
"I am the one who taught Lucian how to break kings… and bury queens."
The blood drained from my face.
This… thing… had made Lucian what he was.
And now, it had come for me.
"You want freedom?" it whispered. "You want power?"
I swallowed hard.
Power.
The word slid through my mind like silk.
The creature extended a dagger — black iron, wickedly curved.
"Cut him down," it said. "Before he cuts you."
I reached out — hand trembling — but before my fingers could close around the hilt, a savage roar shattered the air.
Lucian.
The ground trembled under the weight of his fury.
The creature vanished in a blast of silver smoke, leaving only the dagger behind, glinting in the dying light.
Lucian stormed into the garden, shirtless, blood dripping from his knuckles.
His eyes locked on mine.
On the dagger.
On the choice I now held in my hands.
"Put it down," he growled, voice deadly.
I tightened my grip.
The dagger pulsed — hungry, eager.
Lucian took a step closer, hands raised, palms bare.
"Seraphina," he said lowly, dangerously. "Don't make me hurt you."
The air between us thickened with magic and rage and something far more dangerous:
Fear.
Not mine.
His.
Lucian was afraid.
Of me.
Of what I was becoming.
And a small, vicious part of me thrilled at the sight.
I smiled sweetly, tilting my head.
"Why, my King," I purred.
"Are you afraid your little Queen will bite?"
His mouth twisted into a snarl.
And just like that — the war between us truly began.