Page 114 of Haunted Crowns
More laughter. More teasing. Then a cold gust of wind swept through, brushing Stephan’s ear like a whisper from the grave.
He froze as warmth drained from his skin. He had felt this before, on the day Eris was taken.
There was no sound, only presence.
His gut twisted as his mind locked on her. “I need to find Eris.” His voice was sharp, clipped.
The laughter died. Theon, Adrian, and Cassiel exchanged glances. But Stephan was already moving, pushing through revelry that now felt hollow.
Theon’s smirk vanished. Cassiel lowered his goblet. Adrian’s jaw tensed. They didn’t speak, but they felt it. Something was wrong.
Stephan’s pulse thundered as he forced a breath. “Control yourself. She’s safe. No one would dare touch her. Not after the Crimson Vow.”
But the unease clung to him. Not all threats bowed to vows. Not all monsters wore a rival’s sigil. Some carried his own. The realization struck.
Raphael.
The man who had never hidden his disdain for their love now had every reason to see Eris as a greater threat, especially after Stephan's public claim.
Stephan exhaled, sharply. He turned, eyes sweeping the crowd.
Eris was gone. So was Raphael.
A sick feeling clawed at his ribs. Then he spotted Yori near the far end of the hall, speaking lightly with nobles, unaware.
Stephan moved fast, cutting through the crowd. “Uncle.” His voice rang firm, commanding. Yori turned. “Where is Eris?” Stephan asked.
Yori blinked, glancing over his shoulder. “There.”
He pointed toward the noblewomen who had fawned over her. But she was not there.
Stephan’s stomach dropped. Yori frowned and looked again, slower now. Something in him shifted. His spine straightened.
Stephan’s voice dipped. “Where is my father?”
Yori turned to the place where Raphael had stood beside Lord Gavriel. But Raphael was also gone.
Gavriel remained, still deep in conversation with Lord Hadrian, as if nothing had changed. Yori stilled. His expression darkened, tension cutting through his posture as a memory struck. Raphael’s voice echoed in his mind:
"The Obedience Seal may be the only way to keep her from threatening the throne."
Dread pulsed through him.
No. He wouldn’t. Would he?
Yori’s throat clenched. Fear crept in. He turned to Stephan, voice like a blade. “Move.”
They ran—fast, hard—shoving through the crowd, tearing through celebration that no longer mattered. Stephan’s heart pounded, each step a prayer.
Please, let me not be too late.
They flew down the corridors, past flickering torches that warped in the air, as if a specter breathed at their neck. The air thinned, heavy and cold, as they spiraled into the underground chambers.
Stephan surged ahead, muscles burning. Something clawed at him, a wrongness he could not see but felt, a whisper of something already lost.
Yori kept pace, his face stone-set, his silence carved with dread. Then he stopped and threw out an arm, catching Stephan at the chest.
They both froze.
