Page 17 of Haunted Crowns
“How touching,” the red-haired Turned muttered, leaning forward with mock sweetness. “Didn’t know Firstbloods were such devoted dog lovers.”
Laughter stirred again, but weaker this time. Eris stood, fingers tight around the goblet, eyes glacial.
“I was not aware Turned vampires had lost all sense of dignity,” she said.
The laughter died as the redhead’s smirk faltered.
“Dignity?” he echoed. “Forgive me, Princess, but I didn’t realize Lycans had any to begin with.”
His friends chuckled, but the sound was uneasy.
“Apologize,” Eris said sternly.
Bellara tensed beside her. The Turned stared.
“Excuse me?” the redhead asked, tone light but edged.
Eris tilted her head, chandelier light catching in her emerald eyes.
“You humiliated her for your amusement. You will apologize.”
The amusement soured. A few nobles shifted. The Turned hesitated: the room was watching. It was too risky. She was a Dragov after all. His jaw tightened.
“Fine,” he muttered, flicking a glance at Bellara. “Apologies, pup. Should’ve known better than to expect balance from a tray.”
It wasn’t much, but it was something. Eris held his gaze a breath longer, then gave a small nod.
“I’m glad we understand each other.”
She turned to Bellara and extended a hand. For a moment, Bellara only stared. Then, slowly, she reached out, her fingers trembling. The warmth of Eris’s touch startled her. No one had ever stood up for her. No one had ever made them see her. Not until now.
The Edge of Truth
Eris’s time at the Summit had been a quiet war, marked by fractures: power wielded like a blade, bruises hidden beneath silk, whispers that echoed the slow unraveling of a kingdom in decay. The weight of it pressed against her chest. She wanted to change something, anything. But where could she begin?
The Summit had become a cage. So, she fled. She rode deep into the woods, the wind tearing through her hair, the scent of pine and sea sharp in her lungs. Here, the storm inside her began to still. She belonged to the wind, the trees, the sea.
At the lakeside clearing, she dismounted and tied the reins to a low branch. Sunlight splintered through the canopy as she knelt by the water, cupping her hands to drink. Her reflection fractured in the ripples. Then came a sharp snort. The mare pawed the ground. Eris stilled. Unease prickled across her skin.
“Easy, girl,” she murmured, though her pulse betrayed her calm.
The forest had gone still. The air had shifted. Something was watching.
She leaned toward the water, gaze fixed on her reflection, until a second figure appeared behind her, distorted in the ripples. She gasped and scrambled back, landing on her hands.
Kareon.
He stood over her, arms crossed in a stance both casual and commanding. Sunlight cut through the trees, casting his face in sharp angles, golden eyes gleaming with quiet menace.
“You really shouldn’t wander out here alone, princess.” His voice was smooth, almost lazy, but edged with something harder. “The woods aren’t as forgiving as the Summit.”
Her heart pounded, but she didn’t retreat. Rising in one smooth motion, she squared her shoulders, chin high, defiance burning in her eyes.
“I can take care of myself.”
He smirked, stepping closer. “That’s what they all say… right before they disappear.”
Her eyes flicked left, then right, assessing, calculating. Kareon tracked the movement with a knowing glance.
