Page 93 of Haunted Crowns
She flinched, the parchment crumpling slightly in her grip. With a breath, she smoothed it. “Come in.”
The door creaked open. Yori stepped inside, familiar enough to calm the storm in Eris’s chest.
He looked at her, eyes gleaming. Then, softly, he said, “You look like a bride getting ready. Beautiful, and already breaking hearts.”
She let out a breathless laugh. “Papa, this is not a wedding.”
He crossed the room, gaze shadowed with the quiet sorrow of a father watching his daughter stand on the edge of something irreversible. “If I am already this emotional,” he muttered, rubbing his neck, “gods help me when you actually get married.”
Eris flushed, flipping the parchment. “It is just an oath,” she murmured.
“No,” Yori said gently. “It is a sacred bond.”
The words settled in her chest. It wasn’t just a rite, but a tether to Stephan, to power, to a throne built on blood and flame. She swallowed hard.
Yori saw it in her and sat beside her, hand warm over hers. “You will be fine, little one.”
She looked at him, fingers tightening on the parchment. “I just…wish I could see Stephan before the ceremony. It would make this feel less like I am doing it alone.”
Yori sighed. “I wish I could promise that.”
Her brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”
“He is not here,” he admitted. “Left after the council meeting. I assumed it was something military.”
Eris’s chest tightened.
Yori squeezed her hand. “He will come. You know him. Nothing would keep him from you tonight.”
She nodded, though the knot in her chest held fast.
Yori’s smile turned crooked. “He is probably pacing a hallway, trying not to choke on how badly he wants to get it right.”
Eris rolled her eyes. “He is not that dramatic.”
“Really? You called him ‘dear’ once and he nearly passed out.”
She flushed. “That was different.”
“Oh, definitely. Because tonight, he gets to swear eternal loyalty to the Firstblood legacy, with the woman who already owns him by his side. No pressure.”
Despite herself, she laughed. “You are enjoying this.”
“Every second.” He stood, smirking. “I should go before I make you blush into oblivion.”
She shook her head, her smile lingering. At the door, he paused and turned back, the teasing gone from his face.
“You will be fine,” he said quietly. “And so will he. I promise.”
Eris nodded, gaze dropping to the parchment. She could only hope he was right, that Stephan would return, and that when the moment came, she would not falter.
A soft knock caught Eris’s breath, not from surprise, but because she already knew. Before the door creaked, before the scent of winter reached her, she felt it.
Stephan.
She turned from the mirror, fingers still caught in crimson ribbon. The room shimmered, braziers low, shadows trembling on stone and silk. Her heart beat like an open wound beneath skin and bone. He stepped in, and something inside her jolted to life.
“Stephan!” She ran to him before the door had fully closed, silk trailing like smoke behind her.
