Evander
The gates of the Shadow Citadel didn't creak; they groaned like a dying man.
I didn't wait for the stable boys. I kept Ember tucked against my chest, her weight so slight it made my jaw ache with a strange, protective fury. The silence in my head was still there—the first time in years I wasn't listening to the sound of my own mind splintering—but as we crossed the threshold of the main hall, the cold air of the fortress hit us.
My home felt like a place built for ghosts, not people — all cold stone and memories I never asked for."
"Put me down," Ember whispered. Her voice was thin, like a thread about to snap.
I didn't. I couldn't. The moment there was an inch of air between our skin, the black veins on my neck began to itch. I could feel the madness standing at the door, waiting for me to let go of her so it could finish what it started.
"Not yet," I rasped.
"Look at this," a voice drawled from the top of the grand staircase.
"The King returns with a piece of swamp trash. Is this what the Silver Moon considers a princess these days, Evander? Or did you just pick up a new kitchen maid to replace the ones you scared off?"
I stopped, my boots clicking sharply on the stone. My half-brother, Cassian, stood there, his silk robes shimmering in the torchlight. He looked healthy. He looked fed. He looked like a man who didn't have a clock ticking in his blood.
Beside him stood Julian, our youngest brother . He didn't even look at me; he looked at Ember with disgust so plain it made the pulse in my neck thrum.
"Father's crown looks heavy on you today, brother," Julian said, his lip curling. "You're shaking. Is the 'great Alpha' finally rotting from the inside out?"
"The crown stays where it is," I said, my voice dropping into that low, vibrato growl that usually sent servants running. "And the girl is off-limits. If I see either of you within ten feet of her, I'll remind you why our father chose the son of a 'political marriage' over his favourites.
Cassian laughed, but it didn't reach his eyes. "He didn't choose you because he loved you, Evander. He chose you because our mother was a Queen and yours was a contract. You were a business deal. And now, you're a dying business deal."
He leaned over the railing, his eyes fixed on the bruises on Ember's face. "She's a mess. If you're going to use her to stay alive, at least wash the mud off. It's embarrassing."
I hissed.
"Seems you already know who she is ? I asked in a cold tone.
"Come on brother, I have my eyes everywhere let's say a little bird whispered to me". Cassian said mockingly.
"If you had paid this attention to your fighting skills you would have a been a better warrior, don't you think so cassian? I mocked him with a smirk.
"There's no need arguing with a dying man" …Julian replied placing his hand on cassian shoulder pacifying him.
They walked away, their laughter echoing off the high, hollow ceilings. I stood there in the dark hall, the girl in my arms the only thing keeping me from tearing the walls down. My family didn't want a King; they wanted a corpse so they could pick the bones clean.
Ember
He didn't take me to a dungeon. He took me to a room that smelled of cedar, old paper, and a loneliness so deep it felt like it was part of the stone walls.
Evander set me down on the edge of a massive, fur-covered bed. The moment his hands left my waist, a cold shiver raced down my spine. It wasn't just the air; it was the link. I could feel his sudden emptiness. I could feel the way his skin missed mine as if he were losing a limb.
He stepped back, his chest heaving under his armor. He looked at me, and for a second, the "Shadow King" was gone. He just looked like a man who had been drowning for a very long time.
"There is water in the basin," he said, his voice rough. He wouldn't look me in the eye. "And clean clothes in the wardrobe. My mother's... they haven't been touched in years."
He turned to leave, but he stumbled. His hand caught the edge of a heavy oak table, his knuckles turning white as he fought to stay upright.
I should have stayed on the bed. I should have let him suffer. He was the man who had bought me. He was the monster. But the pain coming through the link was a physical pressure in my own skull. It was a weeping, jagged agony that screamed of being unwanted.
I stood up, my legs trembling, and walked over to him.
"Stop," I whispered.
I reached out and placed my hand over his on the table.
The contact was electric. The gold light of the Mark on my forehead flared, casting a warm glow over the dark room. I felt his pain rush into me—the bitterness of his brothers' words, the coldness of his father's ghost, the sheer weight of being a King that no one wanted to see live.
Evander gasped, his head dropping. He didn't pull away. Instead, he turned his hand over and laced his fingers through mine. His palm was hot, calloused, and shaking.
"Why are you doing this?" he choked out. "I took you from your home. I put you in a cage."
"My home was a cage," I said, my voice steady for the first time. "And your family... they're just like mine. They look at you and see a mistake."
I stepped closer, until I could feel the heat radiating off his body. I reached up with my free hand, my fingers hesitating before I touched the side of his face. His skin was stubbled and rough, but as my fingers brushed his temple, the black veins beneath his skin began to fade.
He leaned into my touch, a low, broken sound escaping his throat. It wasn't a growl this time. It was a sigh.
He opened his eyes—they were silver again, clear and piercing. He looked at me, as if I was the first beautiful thing he'd seen in a lifetime of shadows.
"Ember," he whispered.
He didn't move fast. He moved like he was afraid I'd vanish if he breathed too hard. He reached out and tucked a loose, muddy strand of hair behind my ear, his touch surprisingly gentle.
"I've spent my whole life being a weapon for people who hated me," he said, his voice so low it was almost a confession. "I thought I was going to die in the dark, screaming. But then I found you."
He leaned down, his forehead resting against mine. We stood there in the silence, two broken things holding onto each other in a house full of ghosts. For a heartbeat, the "Shadow King" and the "Bastard" didn't exist. There was only the warmth of his breath on my lips and the way my heart beat in time with his.
"Don't hate me," he whispered against my skin. "Please. I don't need you been an enemy. I already have a lot of them in my bosom.
I looked up into his silver eyes, and for the first time, I didn't want to run. I wanted to see what happened if I stayed.