Morning came late to Valen Palace, grey skies pressing down on the marble towers, the scent of rain heavy in the air.
Prince Kael Valen stood at his window, watching the courtyard below. Servants crossed the stones like moving shadows. Beyond them, Lady Lyra Arden walked among the roses her steps measured, her expression calm. Too calm.
He had spent half the night replaying the archives: her steady voice, her composed answers, the faint tremor of crimson light he thought he imagined. Now, in daylight, the memory refused to leave him.
“Your Highness,” Sir Arwen Drael said with a bow. “The envoy’s records, as requested.”
Kael took the parchment. “No trace of her before the border crossing. Escort papers clean, but…”
“But?” Arwen prompted.
“Her accent shifts,” Kael murmured. “Sometimes Valen, sometimes Arden. And last night, an outer ward was disturbed.”
Arwen hesitated. “Your mark did it react?”
Kael brushed his thumb across the faint glow beneath his glove. “Keep this between us.”
Arwen nodded and withdrew.
Curiosity stirred in Kael’s chest where anger should have been. He remembered her eyes: defiant, yet shadowed with something like sorrow.
Lyra moved through the rose garden, every gesture flawless, though a small burn marked her skin where the Oath had flared. Eren passed her a folded note as he walked by.
Alone, she opened it.
“The relic you touched binds both bloodlines. Avoid the prince. The Oath reacts to him he is dangerous.”
Her pulse quickened. But she already knew the danger wasn’t him… it was what she felt when their eyes met.
At dinner, Lady Seraphine leaned in close to Kael. “You seem distracted tonight. The envoy must be fascinating.”
“You imagine too much,” Kael said tightly.
“Perhaps,” she replied, her eyes glinting. “But the last man who looked at someone that way didn’t survive.”
Kael’s gaze shifted to Lyra poised, distant, unaware her fate was already threading itself into his.
That night, Kael stood alone in his chamber and removed his gloves. The mark on his palm pulsed with a faint crimson glow. Far across the palace, Lyra paused, fingers at her collarbone as the same light shimmered beneath her skin.
Neither knew the Crimson Oath was pulling them toward each other…
And neither sensed the third presence now watching them from the shadows.
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