Page 92 of Haunted Crowns
It was Eris. Of course it was.Damn it.
A low chuckle rumbled from Kareon’s chest. “You really are slow sometimes, Prince.”
Stephan shot him a glare. “Go to hell.”
Kareon’s smirk deepened. “Been there. Didn’t care for the company.”
Adrian and Theon, quiet until now, exchanged a look from the sidelines.
“Would you look at that,” Adrian mused. “They didn’t kill each other.”
Theon let out a low whistle. “Didn’t see that coming.”
Stephan ignored them. Instead, he reached into his jacket and pulled out a small, encrypted signal device. With a flick of hiswrist, he tossed it toward Kareon, who caught it midair, his golden eyes narrowing.
"Watch your borders," Stephan said, his voice even. "And your pack." Then, too casually to be unintentional, he added, "Eris deserves better than an Alpha who lets threats slip through his lands unnoticed."
He turned before Kareon could answer, already walking away.
Kareon said nothing. Taric and Varis stepped in, blades flashing as they cut their men free.
Only after Stephan had disappeared did Kareon exhale. He turned the device in his hand, activated it, and watched. The air shimmered as a grainy but easily discernable image projected: an Obsidian Order convoy moving along the edge of his land.
His jaw tightened. Stephan had told the truth.
The image flickered and vanished, but the weight of it remained. The Order had breached his land, and he had not seen it. Fury tightened in his chest. His fists clenched. He turned, his gaze hardening like drawn steel.
“Taric. Varis. We move. Now.”
He had missed the threat once. He would not miss it again—not to his land, and not to her.
Not ever again.
By decree of the Firstblood Council:
On this night, sanctified by oath and flame, Prince Stephan and Princess Eris of Dragov shall enter the ancient rite of the Crimson Vow.
Let this bond keep the fire of Dragov unbroken. Let the blood remember.
—Official Firstblood Announcement
Chapter 19
The halls of Dragov Castle thrummed with motion. Servants moved in swift silence, their hushed voices merging with the pulse of preparation.
Upstairs, behind the carved doors of one of Dragov Castle’s grandest chambers, Eris sat in silence. A parchment trembled in her hands.
She wore a silken black robe, loosely knotted over a clinging chemise, the fabric pooling as she sat on the bed’s edge. Cold stone pressed against her bare feet, anchoring her against the heat in her chest.
Her auburn hair had been styled, loose waves swept over one shoulder, while the hair on the other side was pinned with an obsidian comb laced with silver filigree. It was meant to signify legacy and control. She felt neither. Her gaze dropped to the words inked in ceremonial script.
In igne, in tenebris, in aeternum.
In fire, in darkness, for eternity.
Her breath caught. She had memorized the vow before, practiced it, but now it felt foreign, as if speaking it aloud might sever something precious.
A knock sounded at the door.
