Page 106 of Haunted Crowns
Stillness descended, and the weight of history pressed into every soul.
Then a sound shattered the silence.
A haunting howl rose through the night, joined by others in a chorus that pierced the stillness and shook the palace to its core. Nobles startled. Some turned toward the doors, hands drifting to hidden weapons. Others exchanged wary glances. Never before had the wild sung to the binding of blood and fate, but tonight it did. It was not in protest or defiance, but in recognition.
The howls didn’t surprise Eris, and that was what unsettled her most. It felt natural, as if she had always belonged to them. For a heartbeat, she wondered if she had chosen this, or if it had always been waiting for her.
She straightened, willing strength into trembling legs.
I am still me. I am still Eris.
But the truth pressed back. If she was born to command the wild, what did that make her?
She didn’t know, but for the first time, she felt it in her bones: power and belonging.
Yori broke the silence.
He exhaled, voice resolute. “Dragov has spoken.” He looked to Stephan and Eris. “Tonight, we witnessed not just an oath, but a reckoning. A new era begins, bound in strength and power unseen in generations. Now we honor that strength.” Facing the archway, he raised his voice. “Let us move to the great hall. The Dance of Fire and Shadow awaits, along with a feast worthy of this moment. There, we shall raise our cups. Tonight, we drink to the future.”
Nobles stirred, their composure returning as whispers rippled through the room.
Stephan exhaled, only then realizing he’d been holding his breath. He turned and found her already watching him.
He lifted her hand and kissed her fingers, letting the warmth of her skin steady him. Her fingers tightened around his, and in her gaze, he saw it—them. Together. Always.
“In the halls of Dragov, splendour is law.
Even silence drips gold.”
—Inscription above the Inner Dining Vault
Chapter 22
The sanctum still hummed with sacred residue, but the castle’s heart beat elsewhere.
The great hall blazed gold, chandeliers dripping flame onto groaning oak tables. Silver trays steamed with rare meats, jeweled goblets brimming with spiced, ritual-grade synth-blood. Laughter swelled, steeped in wine and something hungrier.
Stephan and Eris sat at the center of the hall on matching thrones, with Raphael on one side and Yori on the other. Candlelight lit their faces as the weight of ceremony settled over them.
For a breath, they had peace.
Stephan lifted her hand and kissed it, reverently. His breath skimmed her skin, drawing a shiver. Her heart was still racing from the ritual. Below, the stage rose for the Dance of Fire and Shadow, a symbol of Dragov’s ancient pact, a power older than thrones.
His gaze devoured her, slow and consuming. "You are divine tonight, Eris… Even the gods must envy you."
She laughed, breathless and unsteady. "If the gods envy me, they’re welcome to this gown,” she huffed, wriggling. “I can barely breathe."
Stephan chuckled indulgently. A darker spark ignited in his eyes as he leaned in and whispered, sinfully. "Do not trouble yourself, my love…" His lips hovered near her jaw, too close. "You will not be wearing it for long."
Eris inhaled too sharply, heat blooming uncontrollably.
"Stephan," she hissed. "Control yourself, or I swear I’ll forget we’re being watched."
He grinned, wicked, like a man who already knew how the night would end, and how thoroughly he’d undo her to get there.
Then they laughed, hushed, like a shared secret, like when they were younger and used to sneak away from their tutors and disappear into the corridors.
Eris exhaled, steadying herself. The warmth between them still pulsed beneath her skin.
