My head—Father—where am I? Pain dragged Arastella upward from darkness. It pulsed behind her eyes. Slow. Heavy. Wrong. She inhaled sharply. Silk beneath her palms. Stone walls carved with roses twisting upward like thorns. This was not the forest.
She turned and froze. Castel lay beside her.
Sleeping. Silver hair spilling across black silk. One arm thrown lazily across the bed as though this were natural. As though she had always belonged here. As though she were already his.
Her scream tore free before she could stop it.
Castel moved instantly. He rolled from the bed and hit the floor in a single fluid motion. The air exploded outward in a violent pulse. Candles shattered.
The walls groaned. Invisible force crushed the room.
"Who touched you?" he roared. Arastella scrambled backward, heart slamming against her ribs.
"No one!" she shouted. "You kidnapped me!" The pressure stopped. Instantly. Castel's eyes snapped to her.
"You're awake." His voice had changed.Lower.Focused.
She lunged off the bed, but dizziness slammed into her skull. Her knees buckled. He was in front of her before she hit the floor. Not catching her. Just there. Too close.
"I brought you here," he said evenly.
"You dragged me here."
"I removed you from danger."
"You are the danger." A flicker of something dangerous moved through his expression. She snapped her fingers, summoning her power. Nothing answered.
Her breath stilled. Castel's gaze dropped to her wrist.
The bracelet gleamed. Gold. Heavy. Tight. She clawed at it. It tightened in response.
"What did you do to me?" she demanded. His eyes darkened slightly.
"You are still breathing," he said quietly. "That is more mercy than most receive."
She glared. "You think this is mercy?"
He stepped closer. Slowly. Deliberately.
The air thickened around them—not crushing now, but intimate. Charged.
"You walked into my festival," he said. "You stood in my power. You looked at me as if I were nothing."
"I looked at you as you are."
His jaw tightened.
"And what am I?"
"A monster." Silence. Then—A faint smile.
"You are the only one tonight who did not tremble."
"I don't tremble for monsters."
His eyes flashed. He moved suddenly—pinning her wrist to the stone pillar beside the bed. Not painful.
But absolute. Her breath hitched.
"Careful," he murmured near her ear. "You're very brave for someone wearing my blood." Her stomach dropped. She felt it then. The heat beneath her skin.
The pull. His presence inside her veins. She swallowed.
"You think you own me because you marked me?"
He leaned closer. Close enough that she felt the warmth of his breath along her neck.
"I don't think," he said softly.
"I know."
Her pulse raced. Not from fear. From proximity.
"You cannot keep me here," she whispered.
"I already have."
Her free hand pressed against his chest to push him back—and she felt it. The power coiled inside him.
Contained. Watching. Waiting. He covered her hand with his. Not crushing. But firm.
"You crossed into my world," he said quietly. "You do not get to walk back out."
"Watch me."
The challenge sparked between them like flint against steel. His lips curved faintly.
"I intend to."
A long, suspended moment passed. Then he stepped back. The air loosened.
"You may walk the palace," he said. "You may curse my name. You may test the walls." His gaze dropped briefly to the bracelet.
"But you will not leave." Her throat tightened.
"Karapalo," (please) she whispered. His expression flickered— Just for a second. Then hardened again.
He turned toward the door. Paused. Without looking back—
"You look better in my bed than bleeding on stone."
The door closed behind him. Silence fell.
Arastella pressed her back to the pillar, heart racing.
The bracelet pulsed once. Warm. Alive. And somewhere deep in her veins—Something answered it.
Arastella POV
The door had barely finished closing before I gather myself. I wasn't afraid. Because fear wastes breath.
I pressed my palm against the bracelet again. It pulsed.
The heat beneath my skin wasn't imagination. It moved when he moved. Tightened when he was near. Loosened when he stepped away. I am bound.
Not chained. Bound. There's a difference. I inhaled slowly. The Void. Father. The others.
If the he strengthens the seal further and I am not there— No. Panic is useless. I forced myself to sit upright on the edge of the bed. Silk slid beneath my fingers. Black sheets. Black walls. Roses carved in stone.
A cage made beautiful. He thinks I don't see it.
He thinks this is seduction. This is containment.
I stood and tested the room. The doors. The windows.
locked and visible guards everywhere. I can feel it.
The palace hums with him. The air bends to him.
Every corridor is his bloodstream. I snapped my fingers again. Nothing. The silence where my power should be was suffocating. Castel did not just restrain me. He infiltrated me. His blood coils inside my veins like smoke. I cannot fight him like this. Not yet. I closed my eyes. Think. He wants me. Not dead. Not broken. Wanted. That is leverage. He reacts to defiance. But he burns for resistance. He does not want obedience. He wants conquest.
A slow realization settled in my chest.To leave—
I have to let him believe he is winning. The thought tasted like ash. I would rather tear my own scales off.
But I am powerless. And he is not. The my people need me alive. If I provoke him, he tightens the bracelet.
If I run, he drags me back. If I fight—He enjoys it.
No. I have to do something far more dangerous. I have to play along. My hands trembled. Not from fear.
From disgust. I will smile. I will stand beside him.
I will let the council believe I have chosen this.
I will let him believe he has claimed me. And while he lowers his guard—I will learn the palace. The exits.
The guards' patterns. Where his weakness hides.
Every tyrant has one. He thinks I am trapped.
He thinks this bracelet makes me small. He does not understand dragons. We endure. We adapt. We wait.
I touched the bracelet again. "Fine," I whispered to the empty room.
"You want a queen?"
My reflection stared back at me in the darkened mirror. Violet eyes steady. Cold.
"You will have one." But I will not be yours.
I will make it back to the Void. Even if I have to kiss the devil to do it. And when I leave—I will take something from him. Something he will never recover.
The throne room
The council already knelt when Castel entered.
He was smiling.
"I am to be married tomorrow." The room froze.
"Sire—" The pressure descended.
Bones cracked.
"Beg," he said pleasantly.
"S-spare us—!"
"I am tired," he said softly, eyes glowing, "of you believing you have a say." The force intensified.
Teeth shattered against marble.
"She will be queen," he continued, voice calm and lethal, "even if your heads decorate the altar."
Then—
"Stop!" The pressure vanished. Castel turned.
Arastella stood in the doorway. Barefoot. Unyielding.
He crossed the room instantly. Wrapped her in his arms. Possessive. Protective.
"Why save them?" he murmured into her hair. "Their deaths were my gift to you."
"Because no one deserves this," she said firmly.
The council stared at her like she was divine.
"Spare them," she continued. "And I will be your queen." Silence. Then—Castel laughed. Not boyish.
Not wild. Triumphant. He lifted her into his arms and spun once, exhilarated. The council trembled.
"Get out," he ordered. They fled through the door has if their bodies weighed nothing.
When they were alone, he set her down beside a pillar. His hand slid up her wrist. Pinning it above her head. Not painful. But absolute.
"You are all mine," he whispered against her ear.
The air shivered. And beneath her skin— The king's blood pulsed. Stronger.