"Dead?" Celeste's voice came out as a shocked whisper. Her legs wobbled beneath her as Martha's words sunk in. "That's impossible," Lyra maintained. "We just saw her in the garden!" Martha shook her head, wringing her hands. "The guards found her body in the maze. There's blood everywhere." Celeste's mind raced. If Seraphina was dead, then who had they seen meeting the masked figure? "Take me to her," Celeste ordered, her heart pounding. Martha stopped. "I don't think that's smart, miss. Everyone is already—" "Now," Celeste demanded, a sudden authority in her voice that surprised even herself. The three women hurried through the quiet halls. The sounds of chaos grew louder as they approached the back gardens—shouting, crying, the stomping of boots on stone walks. The maze garden blazed with torchlight. Guards stood at its door, their faces grim. A crowd had formed, whispering in horrified tones. Martha led Celeste and Lyra past the guards, who stepped aside hesitantly. The maze's tall hedges seemed to close in around them as they followed the way of trampled grass and broken branches. They turned a corner, and Celeste froze. Seraphina lay spread on the ground, her golden hair fanned out around her. Her green gown was stained dark with blood. Her eyes stared sightlessly at the night sky. Celeste's hand flew to her mouth. "No..." Her father knelt beside Seraphina's body, crying uncontrollably. When he looked up and saw Celeste, his sadness transformed into rage.
"You," he hissed, rising to his feet. "What have you done?" "I didn't do anything," Celeste argued, backing away. "Father, you can't possibly think—" "Where were you after you left the ballroom?" he asked. "In my room with Lyra," Celeste said. "Martha came to get us. I never—" "Liar!" her father yelled. "I saw the hatred in your eyes when Orion picked her.
Everyone saw it!" The crowd behind them muttered in agreement. Celeste spun around, suddenly aware that she was surrounded by angry faces. "I would never hurt Seraphina," she declared, her voice cracking.
"She's my sister!"
"The sister who had everything you wanted," someone called out. "The sister who took your mate," another voice added. Magnus Blackwood pushed through the crowd, his golden eyes gleaming with cruel pleasure. "I warned you, Harold," he said to Celeste's father. "I told you what she was capable of." "I didn't do this!" Celeste cried. Footsteps thundered behind her. She turned to see Orion rushing into the clearing, his face contorted with grief and anger. When he saw Seraphina's body, he froze. "No," he whispered, dropping to his knees beside her. He gathered her lifeless form in his arms, holding her against his chest. "No, no, no..." The raw pain in his voice sent a chill down Celeste's spine. Had she been wrong? Had his love for Seraphina been real? "Who did this?" Orion growled, his voice dangerously low. Every eye turned to Celeste. "It wasn't me," she maintained. "Lyra and I saw Seraphina in the garden after I left the hall. She was meeting someone—a masked figure who gave her a vial of blue liquid." Instead of helping, her words seemed to make everything worse. The crowd's whispers grew louder. "She's making up stories."
"Trying to blame someone else." "The jealousy drove her mad." Orion gently laid Seraphina back down and stood up slowly. His eyes, when they met Celeste's, held no trace of the warmth she'd seen earlier that night. They were cold, empty, and filled with hate. "Arrest her," he ordered. Guards moved forward, but Lyra stepped between them and Celeste. "You can't do this," Lyra protested. "She's innocent! I was with her the whole time!" "Then you're her accomplice," Magnus stated. "Arrest them both." "No!" Martha cried. "Miss Lyra is telling the truth. They were in Miss Celeste's room when I went to get them." Orion stalked toward Celeste, ignoring the others. Each step he took made the pain in her chest worse—the mate bond twisting and breaking as his hate grew. "There's something on your dress," he said quietly. Celeste looked down. A dark stain marred the silver cloth near her knee. She touched it, and her fingers came away red. Blood. "That's not—I didn't—" She stumbled backward. "I never touched her!" "Then why is her blood on your dress?" Orion demanded.
"I don't know!"
Celeste felt fear rising in her throat. "I swear, I didn't hurt her!" "And what about this?" Orion reached into his pocket and pulled out a small silver knife. Its blade gleamed with blood. "This was found in your room." Celeste looked at the weapon in horror. "That's not mine. Someone must have put it there!" "Enough lies!" Orion roared. The force of his Alpha voice made everyone flinch. "Seraphina told me what you are. What you're capable of. She warned me you were dangerous, but I never thought—" His voice broke. "I never thought you'd kill her out of jealousy." "It wasn't jealousy," Celeste whispered. "And I'm not what she told you I am." "Then explain this," Orion said, taking her wrist and turning her palm upward. Dried blood crusted beneath her toenails. Celeste stared at her hand in disbelief. "No," she whispered. "That's not possible. I was with Lyra the whole time."
"Were you?" Orion asked, turning to Lyra. "Did you watch her every second?" Lyra paused. "I... I went to get water. But only for a few minutes." That short admission was all it took. The crowd broke in angry shouts.
"Murderer!"
"Monster!"
"Lock her up!"
Guards grabbed Celeste's arms. She didn't fight them—she was too stunned to resist. "Lyra," she called desperately. "Tell them! We saw Seraphina after I left the hall!" But the guards were pulling Lyra away too, ignoring her protests. "Father, please," Celeste begged as they pulled her past him. "You know I wouldn't do this!" Her father wouldn't meet her eyes. He turned away, shoulders slumped in failure. The guards dragged Celeste through the grounds, past the shocked guests, and down a stone staircase she'd never seen before. The air grew colder, damper, as they descended into the bowels of the house. The dungeon was a long hallway lined with iron-barred cells. They threw her into the farthest one, the door slamming shut behind her. "Wait!" she cried, grabbing the bars. "This is a mistake!" Her pleas rang unanswered in the cold stone chamber. Hours passed.
Celeste huddled in the corner of her cell, trying to make sense of what had happened. How had Seraphina's blood gotten on her dress? Who had placed the dagger in her room? And who was the hooded person they'd seen with Seraphina? The sound of footsteps jerked her from her thoughts. Orion appeared at the bars of her cell, his face a mask of cold rage. "Why?" he asked bluntly. "I didn't kill her," Celeste answered, her voice hoarse from crying. "We found the vial you mentioned," Orion said. "In your jewelry box." Celeste shot to her feet. "That's impossible! Someone is framing me!" "Who would want to frame you?" Orion demanded. "You're nobody. A freak kept hidden away for years." Each word was like a knife in her heart. "Earlier tonight, you didn't think I was a freak. You felt our connection." Something sparked in his eyes—doubt, perhaps. But it vanished as quickly as it came. "A trick," he said angrily. "Seraphina warned me about your skills. How you can make people feel things that aren't real."
"That's not true," Celeste whispered. "The mate bond is real." "There is no bond!" Orion slammed his fist against the bars, making her flinch. "You killed my chosen mate. And for that, you'll pay." "I didn't—" "Save it for the tribunal," he snarled. "Your trial starts tomorrow. And when they find you guilty—which they will—I'll carry out the sentence myself." He turned to leave, but stopped at the sound of her broken voice. "What did she tell you?" Celeste asked. "What did Seraphina say that made you hate me so quickly?" Orion looked back at her, his gray eyes cold as winter.
"She told me the truth—that you're not even human. That what runs in your veins isn't blood, but something else entirely. Something dark and old that should have been wiped out centuries ago." With that, he walked away, leaving Celeste alone in the darkness. She sank to the floor, her mind racing. What had Seraphina heard about her? What lies had her family kept hidden all these years? A soft scraping sound caught her attention.
She looked up to see a small piece of paper slide under her cell door. Quickly, she crawled forward and grabbed it. In small, neat handwriting were four words that made her blood run cold: "You weren't the target."