The obsidian floor of the throne hall shone like a black mirror, reflecting the flickering torches and the hollow silence of the immortal court. Lena kept her chin high. Her knees felt like water beneath the white silk of her tribute dress. She was no longer a person. She was a signed treaty, a currency of skin and bone delivered to end a war. At the far end of the hall, King Kassian Vael sat motionless. He looked carved from the same dark stone as his palace—ancient, cold, and unreachable.
"Step forward," a voice commanded. Lena obeyed, her pulse a drum against her ribs. She stopped at the foot of the dais. Kassian rose, his movements fluid, predatory, like a god who had forgotten the taste of mercy. He reached out to take her hand in the formal gesture that would seal her life away. When his cold fingers brushed her palm, the world shattered. A searing heat surged through her veins, a golden roar that drowned out the gasps of the watching nobility. Kassian’s eyes widened, the obsidian depths fracturing into gold. His hand tightened around hers, a grip of iron that refused to break. He could command the shadows to kneel, but as he pulled her closer, his breath hitched with a terror she felt in her own lungs.
He tried to speak the ritual words of acceptance, but no sound came.
