The sun hung cold over the spires of the Castle, casting long, skeletal shadows across the courtyard where the future of the kingdoms stood assembled. At the summit of the grand stairs stood King Elderon, inhabiting the space with a slow, practiced indifference.
A few steps below him, the other sovereigns stood. They watched the assembly from their lower physical standing, a silence hanging over them that smelled of old blood and new ambition. King Elderon smoothed a hand over his velvet coat, his gaze drifting over the assembly as if surveying a collection of vermin.
"This is an auspicious day," Elderon began, his voice carrying effortlessly. "As rulers, we do not simply sit on a throne and watch the world go by. We are active participants. We fight in wars. We bring glory and stability to our kingdoms."
Fox felt the parchment crinkle in her fist. She stared up at Elderon's pristine face. When had he ever fought in any battle? Not in her lifetime. He spoke of war as if it were a poem he'd once read, rather than a choir of screaming men.
"Every year, every marriage market, we push our princesses—our future Queens—to the brink," Elderon continued, his tone airy. "To that very precipice of disaster or glory. Because that is what we face when we are on the throne: Glory or Disaster. We hold the lives of not just Lords and Ladies, but of the people... the peasants... the lower class."
Bella looked away from the King, her eyes landing on the Sentinels. They stood like hollowed-out husks, already having come to terms with death. She wondered if the sovereigns viewed this entire cycle as a failed experiment to be discarded. She glanced at the other princesses, wondering which of them had already signed.
"When so much is offered," Elderon's voice rose, "a lot must be given in return. I have full faith in all of you. To survive. To thrive. To save the people."
"Is he really pretending he cares about the people?" Daniela whispered, leaning into Jasper's side. He wrapped an arm around her waist, anchoring her. He was careful to ensure their skin did not make contact. "We're going there to protect the mine."
Jasper let out a soft chuckle. "The people need the mines... to work in. To find true purpose."
Elderon swept his arms wide in a gesture of hollow grandiosity. "Your journey starts here, but it does not end here. You leave as princesses. You will return as Queens."
As he spoke the final word, Elderon gave a slight, knowing nod to King Michael. Jasper caught the exchange instantly. He recognized that look in a demon's eyes—the look of a cord being struck. King-father Michael looked far too pleased with himself.
"I didn't think King Elderon would bluff," Daniela whispered to Jasper.
"He didn't," Jasper responded darkly. "Michael... I think he made a deal."
"What deal?" Daniela's eyes cut back to the steps, wondering what could be so enticing that the supreme King would pull back from his threats. Elderon hadn't even allowed Prince Eric to stand among the other royals; the boy stood behind his father like a leashed puppy.
When Daniela looked back to the steps, she saw Eric's blood-red eyes tracking her every movement. Jasper immediately stepped into her line of vision, grinning down at her. "Let me worry about it."
Prince Eric stood just behind his father and mother, his pulse thrumming with a quiet, jagged rage. He stared down at Daniela and Jasper. The way they moved together was undeniable. It had only been two days since they had been seen, yet they had returned seeming like a married couple—no longer possessing the awkward, clumsy interactions of the other pairs. He didn't know where they had been, only that they had returned changed. He couldn't stand the sight of it. She was meant to be his. But she would understand soon. Very, very soon. How wrong she was.
Daniela rested her palms on Jasper's lapels. "I will leave some bloodshed for you. This shouldn't take too much time. I'll be back before you know it."
Jasper's gaze dropped to her plump lips. For a fleeting second, he wanted to lean down and kiss her, but the risk was too high. He forced a smirk instead.
"I don't need to worry about that," he said. "I'm coming along as a spectator. I will control the feed that sends the recording back to the courts."
"Sounds very important," she teased.
"Exactly. Jeremiah will make sure no one misses the show. I am merely surveying his work." The slight tilt of his lips gave his excitement away.
A few yards away, Fox stood before Landon. As she looked at the brown fur coating his arms, she wanted to run her fingers through it just once, to know what it felt like. It was a silly wish, but if she was to die, she wanted to know.
"Come to wish me luck?" she asked, her eyes sad.
"Of course. I do not doubt your skills, but I thought it wise to give you a gift." At his signal, his manservant stepped forward with an ornate box.
Landon lifted a Meridian blade from the silk lining. It looked as though it were made of glass. Tears welled in Fox's eyes, freezing into tiny crystals the moment they touched her skin. But as they grew heavy, they slid from her cheek and fell onto the warm cobblestones beneath their feet, melting into small dark circles of water.
"Thank you. This is... really thoughtful."
Propriety be damned, Fox threw her arms around Landon, hugging him tightly. They had never been so intimate, and for a moment, the looming threat of death made everything else disappear.
Pulling away, her normally pale cheeks picked up a slight pink coloring. Overcome with embarrassment at her outburst, she turned and bolted toward her carriage. His fur was as soft as it looked, she thought breathlessly as she climbed inside.
Bella held her breath as Miguel approached. She stared up into his obsidian pits. His jade bone mask allowed no warmth, offering not even the smallest glimpse of the man beneath it. He was like a stone. She expected something—a weapon, a word, a sign.
"Fight well," Miguel said. He didn't stop. He didn't even slow down as he walked past her to rejoin the royal line on the stairs.
Heather, witnessing the coldness, turned toward Deacon. "Am I worthy to you of becoming a queen?"
Deacon sighed, his eyes lingering on Fox's carriage. "I have been courting a great many princesses. I've chosen to reserve judgment until my Queen emerges."
Heather understood. There was no loyalty here yet—only the prize. She marched toward Daniela and snapped her fingers at her maids. "I need a quill."
Without delay, she signed the contract and handed it back. "You have my allegiance," Heather said, her voice strong.
Daniela smiled as they shook hands. The bargain was struck. Heather would be the first to survive the coming bloodbath.