Chapter 2 — Rules for Not Dying
Part 1 — The Empress's Omen
The throne room shifted like it had grown a new skin. The messenger who had burst in was panting, robes askew, his forehead slick with sweat. He dropped to his knees and pressed his brow to the floor.
"Your Majesty," he gasped, "the waters turned black on the eastern canal. The fishermen say it rose like a wave, though no wind stirred it."
A ripple of murmurs spread across the gathered court. The Empress's face remained still as marble. Only her hand tightened on the throne's armrest, a gesture so small I might have imagined it.
"An omen," whispered Lady Naya from the shadows. "The curse grows restless."
I stood frozen, my hand still hovering just above the Prince's. If the doors had not slammed, if the messenger had not entered, our skins might have met. Perhaps I would already be dead.
The Empress raised one finger. Silence fell, sharp and immediate. "The moon warns us," she said, her voice clear and cold. "And she demands obedience."
Her gaze flicked to me. Not long, just enough to weigh me, a scale measuring whether I was stone or feather.
"Take the Fated Bride to the western wing," she commanded. "She must learn the rules of her place before the moon tests her again."
Kael's eyes were still on mine, unreadable, the bare hand he had offered curling slowly back into a fist.
"Yes, Your Grace," the man in gray murmured, already motioning me to follow.
As the guards shifted and the courtiers bent their heads, I caught one last glimpse of the Prince. His expression was not anger, not indifference. It was worse.
It was hunger held in check.
---
Part 2 — Sera's Warnings
Sera was waiting when I was led back through the endless halls. The Empress had dismissed her from the throne room, but she had not gone far.
Her hands tightened briefly on mine before she let go, her eyes darting to the guards who flanked us. "Did you touch him?" she whispered.
"Not quite," I breathed.
Her exhale trembled, then steadied. "Good. You're still here."
The man in gray cleared his throat. "This way."
He led us through the palace's western wing, quieter and darker than the main halls. Torches burned low, throwing long shadows across mosaics of battles and moons. The walls seemed closer, the ceilings lower, as though the palace itself were warning me that grandeur could not protect me here.
We stopped before a set of bronze doors etched with strange sigils. The man in gray placed his hand against the metal, and the sigils flared faintly before fading. He nodded once and gestured for us to enter.
"This," he said, "is where you will learn the rules that keep you alive."
Sera ushered me inside. The chamber was circular, lit by a dozen lamps that cast light upward, making the ceiling look like an inverted bowl of stars. Along the walls hung scrolls in glass cases, their ink faded but their presence heavy.
In the center stood a low table carved of obsidian, upon which rested three objects: a silver dagger, a glass vial of red liquid, and a leather-bound book with no title.
The man in gray's voice carried a weight that pressed into the bones. "These are the tools of your survival. The book holds the rites. The dagger is for defense only when no other path remains. And the vial…" He paused. "The vial is your last mercy."
I stared. "Mercy for who?"
"For yourself," he said flatly.
My stomach twisted.
---
Part 3 — The Rules of Survival
Sera took the book and laid it gently before me. Her hands lingered on the cover. "These rules are not ceremony, Eva. They are lifelines."
She opened the book. The first page bore three lines written in ink so dark it seemed to swallow the light.
Rule the First: Do not touch the Prince's bare skin until the blessing is sealed.
Rule the Second: Do not draw blood in his presence.
Rule the Third: Do not speak his name at midnight.
The rules I had heard before, but seeing them inked felt like chains clasping shut.
Sera turned the page. More rules followed, some practical, some strange.
Rule the Fourth: Do not accept food from his hand unless it is offered before witnesses.
Rule the Fifth: Do not follow him if he walks into shadow.
Rule the Sixth: If he dreams aloud, do not answer.
The words swam before my eyes. "This is madness," I whispered.
"This is survival," Sera corrected.
The man in gray leaned forward. "Every bride before you broke one of these rules. And each of them paid in blood."
"Then why keep sending women?" My voice cracked. "Why not let him live cursed and alone?"
"Because he is the heir," the man said coldly. "Because empires do not kneel to curses. They command them."
I closed the book, the slam echoing louder than I intended. "And what if I refuse?"
The man's eyes hardened. "Refusal is not yours to give. The Mark chose. The moon chose. The Empress decreed. You are already bound."
Sera reached for my hand, her fingers trembling. "Eva, listen to me. Survive long enough, and you may find a way through. The Mark burns for a reason. Perhaps it truly means you are different."
Different. Or doomed in a new way.
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Part 4 — The Prince in the Dark
That night, I lay in a chamber too vast for sleep. The bed was soft, the blankets heavy, but my body refused rest. The rules circled in my mind like vultures.
Don't touch. Don't bleed. Don't speak his name.
At midnight, the palace bells tolled twelve deep notes. The sound curled into the corners of the room. My Mark pulsed once, faintly, as though answering.
I sat up, pressing my wrist to my chest.
The door creaked.
I froze.
A shadow slipped inside, tall and certain, the lamplight bending away from it.
The Crown Prince.
He closed the door behind him without a sound. His coat was unbuttoned at the throat, shadows catching on the line of his jaw. His eyes found me in the dimness, steady, merciless.
"You should be asleep," he said.
"Hard to sleep when I might die if I dream wrong," I whispered.
The corner of his mouth moved, almost humor, almost not. He stepped closer, and the air thickened.
The Mark on my wrist blazed with sudden heat.
Kael's gaze flicked to it, then back to my face. "The Mark binds us. Do you feel it?"
I swallowed hard. "I feel like it's trying to burn me alive."
He came closer, until only a breath lay between us. His hand rose, bare this time, fingers half-curled as if the air itself resisted him.
"You've been told the rules," he said softly. "But rules bend. They always bend."
His palm hovered inches from mine.
The Mark burned hotter, bright enough to light the room with silver glow.
"Tell me, Eva," he murmured, voice a blade wrapped in silk. "Do you fear me… or the truth of what you are?"
The Mark throbbed once, hard, like a drumbeat in my veins.
And I realized, with a horror that felt like desire, that I wasn't sure anymore.
[End of Chapter 2]