The ballroom had been transformed into a theater of power.
The central dais was gone, replaced by a raised platform veiled in sheer crimson silk, behind which the thrones of the Thorne bloodline loomed like ancient specters.
A hundred candles burned along the walls, their flames blue-tipped and eerily still.
The Blood Feast would not begin until moonrise.
But the announcement had already summoned every council seat, every noble with blood thick enough to matter.
And every eye—
—was on her.
Elara stood near the edge of the gathering.
Dressed in black once again, but this time not by Kael's order.
By her own.
The corset was stitched in crisscrossing lines like a ribcage, the skirt long and slashed with thorns of red velvet. A matching shawl hung over her shoulders, its embroidery mimicking claws curled in embrace.
But it wasn't the gown that made the room go silent.
It was the man beside her.
Kael.
He wore no crown.
But he didn't need one.
He stepped forward.
His voice carried through the room like the pull of a blade from a sheath.
"Tonight, we honor the Feast of Bone."
No one spoke.
He continued.
"And tonight, as the blood moon rises, I present the pact-born who walks beside me."
He turned.
Held out a hand.
"Elara Voss."
Her breath caught.
He hadn't warned her.
Hadn't rehearsed this.
But she stepped forward anyway.
Took his hand.
The crowd gasped.
The elders didn't hide their fury.
"She cannot stand beside you," one growled. "She is not of the blood."
"She is not just beside me," Kael said. "She is bound to me. And I will show you how."
He reached into his coat.
Pulled out the bone ring.
The one he'd once left by her side.
The one that had burned when he was bleeding.
Now it glowed.
Kael walked her to the center of the room.
"Before your eyes," he said, "I give her not a crown. But a blade."
He held the ring over a small crucible of silver-fire.
Dropped it in.
The flame turned gold.
Then red.
Then black.
The bone melted into a sharp, rune-branded shard.
Kael took it with his bare hand.
Walked to Elara.
And pressed the point to her collarbone.
"Elara," he said, voice lower now, "do you accept the mark?"
She didn't flinch.
"I accept."
The bone hissed as it met her skin.
The shard carved in slow, burning strokes across her flesh, leaving behind a sigil—half-wolf, half-moon, bound in a ring of fire.
She gasped—but didn't move.
Didn't look away.
Kael's hand trembled as he finished.
When he stepped back, the tattoo glowed red, then dimmed.
Etched permanently into her skin.
A brand.
A warning.
A vow.
Then the silence broke.
Chaos.
"You disgrace the rite!"
"She is unworthy—"
"She wears the mark of the cursed!"
Kael raised one hand.
And the room stilled.
"Elara Voss is now blood-oathed by the ancient vow of kings. Her pain is my penance. Her breath is my blade. Any who challenge her—challenge the throne."
He turned to her.
And lifted a small bundle wrapped in midnight silk.
Elara unwrapped it.
And found a gown.
But not like the others.
This one was laced with silver-tipped thorns.
Real ones.
Pressed into the bodice and down the sleeves, meant to pierce skin as she moved.
Kael didn't speak.
But his eyes asked.
And Elara?
She smiled.
"Help me into it."
They stepped behind the silk curtain.
Kael fastened the corset with gloved fingers.
Each pull of the lace pressed thorn into flesh.
Blood beaded at her ribs.
Her back.
Her arms.
But Elara didn't cry out.
When she stepped from behind the veil—
The room gasped again.
This time—
In silence.
Because the dress was bleeding.
Subtle rivulets of crimson ran along the seams, staining the thorns like blooming roses.
She walked to the dais.
And stood beneath the throne.
Breathing hard.
Alive.
Defiant.
"Afraid of blood?" she called out, voice sharp as frost. "Then perhaps you're not fit to call yourselves wolves."
The court stiffened.
Kael smiled—barely.
Behind her, a curtain of fire snapped to life above the throne.
And silhouetted both their figures in red-gold light.
When Elara turned, Kael reached for her hand.
She gave it.
He brought it to his lips.
Kissed the palm he'd once healed.
And whispered, "They see you now."
She nodded.
But didn't smile.
She looked back at the room.
And said clearly:
"Good. Because I'm not leaving."