Dawn hadn't broken yet, but the sky was already a bruised, angry purple.
The town below the palace was frantic. This wasn't the bustle of a celebration; it was the frantic movement of survival. Lanterns ignited like warning flares. Magic cracked across rooftops as decorators worked with trembling hands. Villagers moved breathless and desperate, knowing that a single misplaced flower could provoke a King who could level their homes with a thought.
Inside the square, Krince stood like a commander overseeing a massacre.
"Cake," he barked, his voice echoing off the stone. "Three layers. Elegant. If it looks like a child's birthday, I'll have your head."
"Yes, sir!"
"The fish must be gasping for air until the moment they hit the pan. If it's not fresh, it's poison."
Music began to tune—a discordant, shivering sound. Water bent from the river in silver arcs to fill fountains; fire roared from bare hands to light braziers.
At the edge of the palace, Aideon addressed the guard. His voice was iron. "She is a dragon. Half this kingdom wants her dead, and the other half wants her skin. If a single drop of blood is spilled today, make sure it isn't the Queen's."
Inside the palace, the air was a different kind of cold.
Arastella stood at the window of her chamber, watching the "ants" prepare her prison. The door clicked open.
Cion entered first, wearing a smile that didn't reach his hollow eyes. Behind him were the twins Aiona and Iona and Eina.
"Good morning, my Queen," Cion said smoothly.
Arastella didn't turn. "Call me that again, Cion, and I will carve the title out of your throat."
The twins stiffened, drawing back. Eina, however, stepped forward. Her face was a mask of cold fury.
"You agreed to marry him," Eina said, her voice flat. "Why the theatrics?"
Arastella turned slowly, her violet eyes like shards of glass. "Did I?"
Cion chuckled, backing toward the door. "You did. Whether you remember the moment or not, the world believes it." He slipped out, closing the door with a soft, final click.
"And you let him chain you?" Iona asked, her voice high with hidden spite.
Arastella lifted her wrist. The gold bracelet gleamed—cruel, heavy, and pulsing with Castel's blood.
"You're a dragon," Eina said, her voice sharpening into a blade. "Dragons don't kneel. They burn things. Yet here you are, dressed in silk and waiting for a ring."
"I haven't knelt yet," Arastella replied.
"You think you're clever?" Eina stepped into her space. "You think playing the helpless captive makes you powerful? You're just a distraction. A toy."
"I don't think about you at all," Arastella said.
The words hit harder than a physical blow. Eina's restraint snapped. Her hand flew out, striking Arastella across the face. The crack echoed through the room.
Arastella hit the floor. For a second, there was silence. Then, she laughed. It was a low, ugly sound that started in her chest. She rose in one fluid motion—no magic, just raw, dragon-honed instinct—and drove her fist into Eina's jaw.
Bone cracked. Blood sprayed across the black silk of the bed. The twins screamed, clutching each other.
Arastella stood over her, wiping a smear of blood from her own lip. "I may not have my magic," she said calmly, "but I can still make you bleed."
Eina touched her jaw, her eyes burning with a lifetime of resentment. "He was supposed to be mine. He promised me. He said I would rule beside him!"
"And yet," Arastella whispered, stepping over her, "here I stand. In his room. In his bed. Wearing his blood."
"You stole him!" Eina hissed.
"If he can be stolen," Arastella leaned down, her voice a chilling breath, "he was never yours to begin with."
The door didn't open; it exploded.
The temperature in the room plummeted. Castel stood in the doorway, his black suit making him look like a shadow cut from the void. The power radiating from him was so thick it felt like drowning.
The twins and Eina hit their knees instantly. Arastella remained standing, though her breath hitched.
Castel's eyes locked onto the dark bruise forming on Arastella's cheek.
The pressure in the room became lethal. Gravity didn't just pull; it crushed. The three women were lifted violently off the floor and pinned against the stone walls by an invisible force. Bones began to creak.
"You dare," Castel said, his voice a whisper that shook the floor, "to mark what is mine?"
Eina gasped, her ribs groaning under the weight. Tears streamed down the twins' faces as they clawed at the air.
Arastella moved. She reached out and grabbed Castel's wrist. His skin was burning. "I handled it, Castel. Let them go."
His power faltered. He looked down at her hand on his arm, then back at her face. The pressure snapped. The girls collapsed to the floor, gasping for air.
"You shed blood without my permission," he murmured, his gaze tracing the bruise on her jaw.
"And you nearly killed them without mine," she countered.
A dangerous silence fell. The twins scrambled out of the room on all fours. Eina followed last, humiliated, her jaw swollen and her pride in tatters.
Castel stepped into Arastella's space. "I guess she was your lover," she said quietly.
"Not even close," he studied her face with an intensity that made her skin prickle.
"Did you enjoy it? Watching us fight over you?"
Castel's jaw tightened. "I enjoy many things, Arastella. But I don't share my things. And I don't let them be broken."
Arastella's fingers brushed the front of his jacket. It was a calculated move—a slow, provocative touch. "You enjoy control," she whispered.
"And you enjoy defiance." He pulled her flush against him. It wasn't a hug; it was a collision. He held her there, possessive and predatory. "You think I don't see what you're doing? Playing the submissive bride so I'll lower the wards?"
"What am I doing, Castel?"
"Playing with fire." His thumb brushed the edge of her bruise, his touch suddenly, terrifyingly gentle. "You can hate me. You can plot. But you are walking down that aisle today."
"And when I do?"
His smile was a promise of total ruin. "The world changes."
He released her abruptly and stormed out, his cloak billowing behind him.
Arastella lay back on the bed as the maids rushed in with silks and jewels. She stared at the ceiling, the ancient Varack words slipping from her lips.
"Ota volema zote vagel esie." (You will never have my heart.)
Her fingers curled around the gold bracelet.
"Vollema skoto esie." (But I will burn you alive.)
Eina's Heart: The Truth in the Shadows
I have loved him since we were children.
Before the crowns. Before he became the "King of All." Back when he was just Castel a boy who would sit on the palace roof and count constellations because he thought no one was watching.
He never looked at me the way I looked at him. To him, I was "safe." I was the clever one. I was the sister he never had. I hated that word. I hated the way he ruffled my hair while my heart was shattering.
When he was fifteen, he fell for Larees, that Waterling brat. I helped him sneak out to see her. I lied to the council for him. I watched him climb down walls, grinning like an idiot for a girl who didn't deserve his shadow.
Then, he lost control. His power devoured her. I stood in the blood with him that night. I saw the light go out of his eyes.
He told me, years later, "I can't love like that again."
I thought that was my chance. If he couldn't love, he would need loyalty. He would need me. I spent years carving myself into the perfect shadow. I waited. I was patient.
And then He met her. A dragon from the mountains.
He looked at her once, and the air around him ignited. He didn't shut down for her; he woke up.
Everything I sacrificed years of silence, of being his "clever Eina" he threw it away for a stranger. He pinned me to the wall like a common criminal for touching her. His. He called her his.
He never said that about me.
If he can feel for her, then he lied to me. He chose not to love me.
If I cannot have his heart, I will have his throne. I have loved him through blood and war, and I will not lose to a girl who met him yesterday. I will become the very thing he fears.
The wedding bells began to ring. I wiped the blood from my mouth and smiled.
Let the wedding begin. I want to see how she burns.