---
"You did well," Cyrus said, his voice echoing softly against the cold stone walls of the solar.
As usual, Darius stood by the arched window, his silhouette framed by the dying embers of a blood-red sunset. He looked out over the kingdom that was now technically his, though the crown felt more like a leaden weight than a symbol of power. Cyrus watched him, misinterpreting the stiffness in his brother's shoulders as the jittery nerves of a new sovereign. He stepped forward, intending to offer a hand of comfort, but Darius spoke before he could reach him.
"I'm not thinking about the coronation," Darius said, his voice flat, devoid of the triumph one might expect.
"What are you thinking about then?" Cyrus asked, pausing mid-stride.
Darius remained silent for a long moment, the only sound the whistling wind through the casement. When he finally turned, his eyes were sharp, cutting through the dim light.
"Cyrus, you and I both know you're a bad liar," he began, his voice dropping to a dangerous register. "I know there is a calculated reason why you released me from that cell and placed me on this throne. But I want to tell you this—I've been through an emotional hell that would have broken lesser men. I've lost my autonomy, my youth, and my trust. I don't think I'll be able to handle it if you betray me as well."
He took a step toward Cyrus, the shadows clinging to his regal robes. "I'll destroy everything you made me promise to protect, Cyrus. Every brick of this city, every life in this realm. I will burn it all to ash if I find out your hand is turning against me."
Cyrus didn't flinch. "Darius, I'll never do anything against the bro code. We are bound by more than just politics. I made you king for a reason, but for now, the pieces are still moving—I can't tell you everything yet. All you have to do is prove to the people you're not the monster they think you are. Then my efforts won't be in vain."
"What efforts?"
The voice was like a whip crack. Hazel stood in the doorway, her face pale with suppressed rage. She had been standing in the shadows for longer than either man realized. As the words sank in, a surge of pure vitriol rose in her throat, nearly triggering a panic attack. To her, Darius was a 'mistake'—a stain on the lineage that she thought had been safely tucked away into an eternal, magical sleep. She had used every underhanded means at her disposal to bury him, only to find her own son had dug him up.
"Mother, you cannot eavesdrop on the king's private conversations," Cyrus said, his tone hardening.
"Answer me!" she shrieked, her composure fracturing. "What efforts have you wasted on this... this devil "
---
"Lila, come back here!"
The roar of her father's voice sent a jolt of ice through Lila's veins. She didn't look back. She couldn't. She sprinted through the dense undergrowth, the jagged stones and thorns tearing at her bare feet. Bruises mottled her skin, but she felt nothing but the frantic thrum of her heart.
Lila Bellwether was used to running, but never like this. Her father, the Duke of one of the four human states, was a man consumed by ambition. He was obsessed with tethering his bloodline to the throne, and with her elder sister Iris already married off, Lila was the final currency he had to spend. He intended to sell her to the King—a man rumored to be twice her age and possessed of a dark, perverse nature that made the village girls whisper in terror.
"LILA!"
She plunged into the ancient, dark woods where the sunlight struggled to pierce the canopy. Gasping for air, her lungs burning, she ducked behind a massive oak. She prayed to gods she didn't believe in that he would pass her by. Panting silently, she tried to steady her trembling legs. She turned to find a path deeper into the thicket, but instead, she slammed into a chest that felt like solid marble.
---
Darius had returned to the dark forest exactly as he had promised the old witch, slipping away the moment he had handled the headache of his stepmother's hysterics. He had expected to find omens or shadows; he had not expected to find a girl on the verge of collapse.
The moment he saw her, his world tilted. It was her scent—the unmistakable, heady aroma of fresh lavender and rain. It screamed through his nervous system, an ancient, primal recognition. He realized with a shock that she was his mate. He had lived years believing he walked the earth alone, but the truth was simply that she hadn't been born yet when he first began his search.
The girl whimpered, shrinking back, her eyes wide with the terror of a hunted animal. She thought he was with the man shouting in the distance.
"Who is he?" Darius asked softly, his gaze shifting to the portly, angry man breaking through the treeline.
"My dad," she whispered, a small spark of relief flickering in her eyes when she realized the stranger wasn't wearing her father's crest.
"Come here, girl!" the Duke bellowed, spotting them. He adjusted his velvet doublet, his face purple with exertion. Dejectedly, Lila began to take a step toward him, her spirit breaking.
But Cyrus reached out, his fingers closing firmly but gently around her hand. He pulled her back behind him, his presence suddenly looming twice as large.
"You're her father?" Darius asked, his voice deceptively calm.
"Who the f*ck are you to butt into my business?" the Duke spat, stepping forward with a hand on his sword hilt. "Do you have any idea who I am, boy?"
Cyrus tilted his head, a cold, predatory smile touching his lips. "Who are you?"
"I am Duke Bellwether! And that girl is my property!"
Cyrus squeezed Lila's hand, a silent promise of protection. "Not anymore."