Page 111 of Haunted Crowns
He didn’t blink. “Do you love Stephan?”
The words hit like a slap.
“What?”
His grip tightened, silencing her before she could speak. “Do. You. Love. Him?”
Her breath shuddered. “Of course I do.”
He dragged her closer, face hovering inches from hers. “Then be quiet. And do as I say.”
A gasp escaped her lips. Then he shoved her through the threshold, the door slammed shut behind her, sealing her in.
Eris staggered, breath ragged, eyes wide. The room was small and ancient, stone walls heavy with cold. The air felt wrong, as if something waited.
Her voice shook. “What does this have to do with Stephan?”
Raphael didn’t answer. He moved to a small altar, arranging unseen items with chilling calm. Eris watched, trembling. A flicker of silver revealed the blade, followed by the snap of shackles. Cold iron clamped around her wrists, yanking her down. A cry tore from her throat, frantic. She thrashed, but the chains held. Steel bit deep.
Raphael crouched before her, one hand on her jaw. He had told himself this was fate. That the throne demanded it. But when had cruelty ever been sacred? “Stop fighting. This will not hurt.”
Her pulse thundered. “What will not?”
He rose, stepping onto the altar like a priest preparing sacrifice. “The Obedience Seal.”
Eris froze as the name coiled through her like a curse. “What?” She wanted to mishear it, but dread had already settled in her stomach. She swallowed and forced the words out. “What does it do?”
Raphael didn’t blink. “It settles in your blood.” He drew a breath. “When a Dragov ruler gives you an order, you will obey.”
The words fell, binding and unforgivable, like iron. Eris’s breath locked in her chest.
“No.” She yanked at the chains, frantic. They held fast.
Raphael remained still. “This way, Seraphina has no hold. No way to use you against the throne or Stephan.”
A weapon. A liability. That was all she had ever been. Not the woman Stephan loved. Not a daughter or a person. Just a problem to solve. The horror struck like ice.
“How can you do this to him?” Her voice trembled with fury. “How can you betray your own son?” Her wrists burned as she pulled harder, skin splitting under the strain. “Uncle, please. If you do this, Stephan will never forgive you. He will hate you. Forever.”
Raphael didn’t flinch. “Then he will never have to know.”
His voice was flat, distant, as if this was nothing but logic. A necessary cruelty.
He turned to the altar, stretching one hand over the silver basin. Eris jerked violently at the chains.
“How can you believe he will not notice?” Her voice cracked. “Stephan will look at me once, and he will know. He will know what you did.”
Raphael exhaled, measured, then smiled. A small, amused curve of his lips. “Or,” he murmured, eyes flicking toward her like she was nothing more than inconvenience, “he will find you…pleasantly more compliant with his desires.” He turned back to the altar. “And what man does not enjoy that?”
Silence fell like a blade. Eris stilled. He was gone, lost to madness. No reason would reach him.
Rage surged, violent, storming beneath her skin. Her fists clenched, nails biting deep. She looked up, gaze cold and burning. “You think you can bend me? You think you can break me? Then you understand nothing. Not about me. And certainly not about your son.”
She spoke it like a curse, but Raphael was no longer listening.
The ritual had begun.
He stood at the altar above her like a judge at a silent execution. Before him lay the Veritas Sanguine Scripta, the forbidden tome of Dragov. Its cracked leather breathed age and power. Its pages, inked in runes, stirred only for Dragov blood. Once, it whispered the past to Stephan. Now it would bind her future.
