The moon hung low and swollen in the night sky, casting a silvery hue over the obsidian spires of the royal palace.
"Severin."
The voice pulled him from the swirl of thoughts like a hook.
He looked over his shoulder.
Calvera de Raveall lay tangled in the silken midnight-blue sheets, half-draped in shadow, her pale skin glowing like pale gold beneath the soft flicker of candlelight. Her platinum blonde hair spilled across the pillows like ink, tousled and gleaming. She propped herself up on one elbow, causing the sheet to slip from her shoulders and expose her ample breasts, pale nipples hardening from the change in the air, her other hand stretched toward him lazily.
"You're brooding again," she murmured. "It's too late in the night to start thinking so hard. Come back to bed."
Severin stood at the edge pf the room, near the arched balcony overlooking the kingdom. The now twilight mist hung low in the air, muffling the edges of the quieting world like a dream refusing to fade. His jaw ticked slightly.
He didn't answer right away.
Calvera's eyes narrowed, though her voice remained teasing. "Don't tell me you're still thinking about her."
His silence was answer enough.
Calvera let out a breath that was half sigh, half laugh, and rolled onto her back, one knee lifting with lazy grace beneath the sheets. "You prince's and your ghosts."
She stared up at the ceiling for a beat, her lips curling into a sneer for the briefest moment. She never liked Lenore, always thought she was something special—walking around with her aunt's favor, acting like she belonged. Calvera had been thrilled when the guards dragged her out reveling in the disgrace etched on Lenore's pale face.
She stretched like a cat, her satisfaction evident in every motion. But beneath it all simmered a flicker of irritation she would never speak aloud. Lenore was gone—chained, discarded. And yet still, her name clung to the edges of conversation. Corvin, Darius and Severin carried her ghost like some treasured wound. It was maddening. Pathetic. Calvera's lips pursed as she thought bitterly, that no matter what chains Lenore bore now, she still managed to linger where it mattered most—inside their thoughts.
Severin didn't acknowledge her comment as his gaze shifted down to the ring on his right hand—the one bearing the crest of House Caldereth. It glinted faintly, catching the sliver of the moon.
Four years, and still the memory of that bloodstained night, Lenore's screams in the courtyard, clung to him like a second skin.
But today wasn't about the past. Not entirely.
He turned back toward the bed, his voice low. "The Blood Moon will come soon."
Calvera's brows rose, a slow, feline smile spreading across her face, "So it is."
She reached out again. This time, he took her hand.
The morning sun filtered through the large glass windows of the royal dining hall, casting golden rays onto the long, polished obsidian table where the royal family was gathered.
Lycan King Alaric sat at the head, regal in dark blue robes that clung almost tightly to his large frame, embroidered with silver thread, his sharp eyes flicking over a scroll of reports. Beside him, Queen Morganna sipped tea in a matching gown with serene grace, her jeweled fingers drumming idly against her cup.
Severin, Corvin, and Darius were seated to their right. Darius picked at a plate of sugared bread and meats while Calvera, seated beside him, fed him strawberries one by one with lazy affection.
"So the northern traders are refusing to honor their last shipment," Morganna said without looking up. "They claim the routes are too dangerous with the rogue attacks recently."
"Which is precisely why we need to send an armed envoy," King Alaric responded. "The outer villages are being strained. If we lose their exports—"
"We lose leverage," Severin finished, his tone flat as ever.
Corvin stirred his tea, glancing toward his elder brother with a flicker of amusement. "You've always had such a gift for diplomacy."
Darius gave a small snort of laughter, his mouth full.
Queen Morganna waved a hand, dismissing the subject. "We'll discuss the envoy at the council meeting. For now, what of the magic contraband the eastern court tried to smuggle through the mines?"
Calvera leaned in slightly, resting her head on Darius' shoulder. "They're getting bolder. Perhaps they think our focus has dulled with these…rogue distractions."
"And those distractions are only growing," Corvin muttered. "Two more outposts fell last week."
Severin's eyes darkened slightly, but he said nothing.
The conversation continued, threaded with idle talk of court gossip and shifting alliances, the weight of rule settling heavily around them like a second skin.
But even in the light of the morning, shadows lingered—unspoken names, half-buried truths, and memories that refused to die.