Page 11 of Haunted Crowns
She moved like a ghost in silk, barefoot and silent, her eyes glazed as if seeing something distant.
At the bottom of the grand staircase, a cluster of young delegates whispered about post-ceremony scandals—until the stillness hit.
Someone inhaled sharply. “Wait—”
All heads turned.
Eris Dragov, pale and untouchable in the flickering candlelight, moved like something not entirely of this world. A stunned silence stretched. Then came a sharp laugh.
“Is that—? No way.”
“The Dragov Princess,” someone whispered, wide-eyed.
Another smirked. “Should we wake her up?”
A boy grinned. “Nah. This is too good.”
Comm-Orbs flickered to life.
“Witch,” someone muttered.
“Cursed thing,” another scoffed.
Then, running footsteps. The library doors burst open.
“Come quick! You really don’t wanna miss this, everyone!”
Heads turned, some startled, others intrigued. Stephan didn’t move.
A delegate near him sighed. “If this is another prank, Nikolai—”
“Oh, trust me,” Nikolai said, grinning like a wolf. “This is better than any prank I could pull.” He paused just long enough to savor the weight of it, then delivered the blow. “Eris is sleepwalking. Half-naked. In the corridors.”
Stephan’s chair scraped back, empty. He pushed through the crowd and saw it: the sneers, the laughter, the Comm-Orbs capturing every humiliating second. And her, Eris, standing in the center of the hall, lost, unreachable.
He had seen her like this before, a thousand times, and the memory of each one was carved deeper than the last.
Two boys waved their hands in front of her eyes, mocking her trance. Stephan’s blood lit like oil on fire. He didn’t hesitate. He shoved them back, hard. His coat came off in one fluid motion and wrapped around her shoulders.
“Get out,” he growled. The laughter died. “Now.”
The Comm-Orbs lowered as delegates stepped back: no one wanted to test Stephan Dragov’s patience. Then Eris moved. Sheturned and walked right past him, straight into the night, and the heavens split open. Rain fell in sheets, a storm so heavy, it felt like prophecy.
Stephan was right behind her when a voice called from the doorway: “Here!” It was Theon, his closest friend. An umbrella sailed through the air. Stephan caught it without looking, snapped it open, and disappeared into the storm.
From the upper hall windows, they all watched: the princess and the future king. Gossip caught like firelight, but one pair of eyes watched differently. Kareon Duskbane stood at the library window, arms crossed, golden eyes fixed on her. The anomaly of the Dragov House. The future ruler who couldn’t be controlled. A girl like no one else. His eyes shifted to Stephan, shielding her from the storm as if he could shield her from the world. Kareon’s lips curled.
Interesting.
Stephan Dragov was always composed, always restrained, but never with her. And that was something worth remembering.
The rain poured in sheets, drumming against the stone and drowning the world in a steady roar.
Eris stood, barefoot and still, in the middle of the courtyard. Water clung to her chemise, running in rivulets down her skin, but she didn’t shiver. She was listening. Not to the storm or to Stephan, but to something else.
Stephan didn’t move. He knew this part, the waiting. Pulling her back too soon only shattered her faster. So, he stayed, silent, waiting.
The rain pounded around them, a relentless rhythm on the cobblestones and against the canopy of the umbrella he heldover her. His free hand flexed at his side, but he didn’t reach for her. Not yet. Then her lashes fluttered, a tremor rippling through her frame, followed by a sharp inhale, as if breaking through the surface of deep water, and she was back.
