Page 68 of Haunted Crowns
A slow, sickening realization settled deep in his gut.
The body he revered, the body he had sworn to protect, had been brutalized by some unworthy filth. His vision blurred with rage, his fists clenching at his sides as his gaze fell. He could not bear to look at her.
Then Eris reached out. Her fingers, trembling yet sure, brushed his cheek, a soft, quiet touch without hesitation. In that moment, he felt it. She was holding his pain, dismantling it, breaking it down, and handing it back as something bearable.
"Stephan." Her voice was a soft whisper, a thread of tenderness laced with quiet command. His breath hitched, and his body locked. "Look at me," she urged.
Silence pressed between them. If he looked, he would break.
Her fingers traced his cheek, grounding, tethering him to the only thing that mattered: her.
"It’s okay, Stephan. I’m here."
A breath escaped him, uneven. His lashes flickered. Then he finally looked and it shattered him.
He saw everything, not just the bruises, or the shadows beneath her eyes. He saw her strength, her fire, the unbreakable force still burning inside her. She looked at him as if he were the one who needed saving, and perhaps he was.
His breath fell apart in pieces. He reached for her hand and pressed his over it, needing, as if her touch could hold him together. She was here, and she was his.
No words passed between them. None were needed. Their souls reached for each other like two flames in the dark, refusing to extinguish. And for the first time in days, Stephan Dragov breathed again.
A voice broke the quiet. "Eris."
She turned. Raphael stood waiting, his expression carved from stone.
"We need to talk," he said, nodding toward the chamber beyond. "Now."
Yori bristled. "She needs rest."
Raphael's voice came back, sharp. "If she can stand, she can talk."
Stephan stepped forward, tension radiating off him, but before he could speak, Eris nodded.
"It’s fine," she said. "I’ll come."
She gently slipped her hand from Stephan’s, but not before giving it a single, steady squeeze, letting him hold onto the solace she had offered, if only for a breath, before duty pulled her away.
And then she followed Raphael into the dark.
The king calls her daughter.
But I swear on the old gods…he’s cradling a curse.
Scribbled Note—Found Beneath a Courtier’s Desk, Burned at Edges
Chapter 14
The sconces flickered dimly against heavy stone, their glow too weak to cut through the tension thickening the air. Eris stepped inside, her expression unreadable, every movement measured. Raphael followed, his posture commanding, owning the space as if it had always belonged to him. Stephan and Yori entered behind them, silent storms trailing the hurricane.
As soon as they entered, Raphael turned, swift and precise, a blade unsheathed. "Sit."
Eris obeyed without hesitation, lowering herself into the chair, her spine straight and composed, a picture of restraint.
Yori moved toward the window, his presence looming, a quiet tempest brewing behind him. His back was turned, but his posture—tight, fists clenched at his sides—spoke louder than words. Stephan sat beside her, unwilling to let her face this alone.
Raphael’s displeasure was palpable. His silver gaze flicked toward Stephan in warning before he exhaled sharply, fingers drumming against the table. "I am extremely disappointed in you."
The words shattered the silence like a whiplash.
