Page 86 of Haunted Crowns
The Den erupted in cheers, and for the first time since her return, Eris let herself breathe.
The Den pulsed with life: drums like heartbeats, laughter curling into smoke, the scent of meat mingling with moss and fire. The celebration surged, but Eris stood still. Kareon stood beside her, silent. Their eyes met. Something heavy and unspoken passed between them.
“Let’s talk,” she said.
Kaelioth inclined his head and turned toward his tent without a word. Eris glanced over her shoulder. Cassiel stood just behind them, arms crossed, gaze sweeping the reveling Lycans like a soldier assessing a kill zone—outnumbered, uneasy, coiled like a blade.
She softened her tone. “Wait here.”
Cassiel did not flinch. “That is debatable.”
Eris smirked and turned to Kareon. “He will be fine, will he not?”
Kareon’s golden eyes sparked with amusement. “That depends.” His smile curved sharply. “If he stands too close to the fire pits, the younglings might mistake him for fresh meat.”
Cassiel stiffened. “I knew it.”
Kaelioth laughed, pushing aside the tent flap. “Relax, bloodsucker. You will live.” He paused, grin widening. “No promises about keeping all your limbs intact, though.”
Cassiel muttered something unprintable. Eris chuckled and stepped into the dark behind the canvas.
The moment she did, the air shifted—thicker now, laced with cedarwood, dried herbs, and something older. Light bled through the tent seams, casting gold across layered furs,scattered runes, feathers, and talismans. The air hummed with unseen energy. Eris sank onto the woven rugs.
Kaelioth folded his limbs with the stillness of stone, incense curling around him like memory.
Beside her, Kareon leaned back slightly, fingers drumming against his leg, watching. His gaze lingered, just a breath too long, on the bare skin of her shoulder. His wolf stirred beneath the surface, restless and barely contained. This was not the time, or the place. But moon above, she made it hard to think. He exhaled sharply and looked away.
“That’s it,” Eris said, voice cutting through the silence. “The time has come for things to change.”
The air thickened, as if the tent itself leaned in. Kaelioth nodded slowly, unreadable. But Kareon’s sharp eyes stayed locked on hers like a blade.
Eris drew a breath. “Tonight, I take the Crimson Vow. Once I do, the Firstbloods will be bound to Stephan and me by the magic in our blood. This is not just ceremony—it is an oath they cannot break. Their loyalty will no longer be in question. Once I am acknowledged as ruler, I will have a seat at the council. I will have a voice. And I will push for the change we have all fought for—a future where Firstbloods and Lycans are no longer at war.”
Kaelioth exhaled slowly and nodded. “Things are moving fast.”
Kareon held her gaze, the corner of his mouth lifting. The fire in her eyes was unshakable. That was what made her dangerous. She made him restless. She made him want.
He leaned forward, forcing himself to focus, forearms braced on his knees.
“It sounds good,” he said. “Too good.” His golden gaze swept over her. “You think they’ll let you rewrite centuries of power because of an oath? Let you speak and not scheme behind your back?”
The Crimson Vow lingered between them, too polished, too easy. For a moment, he wondered: would it shift her loyalty when it mattered? But then he looked at her, and the doubt faded. She had walked through fire and never flinched. He trusted her. The prophecy. The spirits. They hadn’t chosen wrong.
Eris did not flinch. “The Crimson Vow is not just political,” she said. “Once they drink from Stephan’s and my blood, the bond is sealed. They will be physically incapable of harming us. Betrayal will be impossible. That is the nature of the magic in Dragov blood.”
Kareon exhaled through his nose. “That doesn’t mean they will not find quieter ways to silence you.”
She tilted her head. “I am not naïve, Kareon. This will be brutal. It will take time. There will be resistance. But my father and uncle fought the same wars. They were called radicals, heretics, fools. And still, change came. Because they did not break.” Her voice sharpened. “If I waver now, I betray that legacy.”
Kareon’s arms folded tight across his chest. “I still do not trust them.”
Kaelioth dragged a hand along his jaw. “It is complex, no doubt. But if this is the will of the Spirits, we must obey.”
Kareon’s jaw clenched, tension coiled through his shoulders as his expression darkened. “The Firstbloods are one problem.” His voice dropped, golden eyes narrowing. “Avaristo is another.”
Eris felt it then, a slow, coiling dread curling at the base of her spine.
Kareon exhaled hard. “None of this feels right. He let you go too easily, Eris. He could’ve used you as leverage. Held you hostage. Turned the war in his favor.” His fists curled. “That was not mercy. It was strategy.”
