POV: Sera
The car was a rolling prison.
Sera sat pressed against the passenger door, as far from Garrett as the seatbelt would allow. The silence between them was thick and heavy, broken only by the hum of the engine and the occasional crunch of gravel under the tires. Outside her window, the world was a blur of joyful celebration. Houses decked with silver bunting, children waving sparklers that traced moons in the dark air, bonfires on the beach where figures danced.
Each happy scene was a tiny knife twist in her heart.
She snuck a glance at Garrett. His hands were clenched on the steering wheel, his knuckles white. His handsome profile was set in a hard line, his gaze fixed on the dark road ahead. He wasn't just tense; he was thrumming with a focused energy, like a soldier before a battle. The excited glint she'd seen earlier was gone, replaced by a cold, grim determination.
What are you planning? she screamed inside her head. But the words stayed locked behind her teeth. Asking would only bring his sharp attention down on her, and she needed to think.
Instead, she focused on the bond. It was a constant, low-grade nausea in her center, a tether that connected her misery to his cold satisfaction. She used to try to soothe it, to send feelings of compliance and peace along it, hoping it would calm him. Now, she imagined building a wall around her heart, brick by mental brick, trying to block the connection out. It never worked, but the effort made her feel less like a puppet.
"Remember the rules," Garrett said suddenly, his voice making her jump. He didn't look at her. "You are my devoted, happy mate. You are proud of my position. You know nothing about Tidecaller politics or ocean magic beyond your basic work. If the King speaks to you, you are humble and grateful. Understood?"
"Yes," Sera whispered, the lie ash in her mouth.
"The Tidecaller line is rare. A curiosity," he continued, as if giving a briefing. "Don't let anyone draw you into conversation about it. Especially not about your sister's… abilities."
Sera's head snapped toward him. "Why?"
Finally, he looked at her. In the dashboard's green glow, his eyes were dark pits. "Because I said so. Your sister's death was a private tragedy. We don't air our pain in public like commoners." The warning in his voice was clear: Talk about Lila, and you will pay.
The spark of defiance from the cottage flared again, hot and sudden. "She wasn't a 'private tragedy.' She was my sister. She was murdered."
The car swerved slightly as Garrett's grip tightened. He pulled the car over to the side of the coastal road with a jerk, the tires spitting stones. The engine idled, a low growl in the sudden quiet. He turned fully in his seat, and the air in the car turned to ice.
"Say that again," he said, his voice dangerously soft.
Sera's courage evaporated, replaced by primal fear. She shrank back against the door. "I… I didn't…"
"You will forget these hysterical theories," he said, each word precise and sharp as a scalpel. "Lila drowned. It was an accident. The investigation is closed. The Moon Goddess gave no answer because there was no crime. The bond between us proves my innocence to everyone who matters." He leaned closer, and Sera could see the faint, almost invisible pattern of scales around his temples, something she'd only noticed in the last year. "The only person still accusing me is you. And that makes you look unstable. Do you want to be locked away, Sera? Do you want to be the crazy Tidecaller who can't accept her sister's accident?"
The threat was real. He could do it. With his connections and her "emotional" state, he could have her declared unfit. She'd lose everything her freedom, her work, any chance of ever finding the truth.
Tears of helpless rage blurred her vision. She looked down at her hands, clenched in her lap.
"I understand," she forced out, the words tasting like defeat.
"Good." He put the car back in drive and pulled onto the road. The rest of the journey continued in a silence even heavier than before.
Sera stared out at the ocean, a vast black expanse to their right. Her Tidecaller senses reached for it instinctively, seeking comfort in its familiar song. But tonight, the song was wrong. There was a discordant note, a deep, throbbing hum of corrupted energy coming from far out in the deep trenches. It made her magic itch uncomfortably under her skin. She'd felt it growing stronger for months, a sickness in the water she couldn't heal.
Was Garrett involved in that, too?
The road began to climb, winding up the cliffs toward the capital city of Tidemark. The festive lanterns became grander, the houses larger. The sense of anticipation in the air grew thicker, but for Sera, it curdled into dread.
Then they rounded a final bend, and the Crimson Palace filled the windshield.
Sera's breath caught. It was monstrously huge, a fortress of deep red stone that seemed to bleed into the twilight sky. It was built on the very edge of the continent, its foundations disappearing into the crashing waves far below. Dozens of towers clawed at the sky, and every window was ablaze with light. It didn't look like a place of celebration. It looked like a predator, hunched and waiting.
"Impressive, isn't it?" Garrett murmured, a strange pride in his voice. "The seat of power. And tonight, history will be made here."
"What history?" The question slipped out before she could stop it.
Garrett's mouth curved into a thin, secretive smile. "You'll see."
They joined a line of sleek, expensive cars crawling toward the palace gates. Guards in formal uniforms checked invitations. When it was their turn, Garrett handed over a thick, silver-embossed card. The guard looked at it, then at Sera, his eyes lingering on her face with a flicker of recognition or was it pity?
"Mr. Stormridge. Miss Blackwater. Proceed."
The gates swung open, and they drove into a vast courtyard already packed with vehicles. The noise hit Sera like a wall as she stepped out of the car: the clatter of hooves from ornate carriages, the babble of hundreds of voices, the distant swell of orchestral music from inside the palace. The air was thick with the scents of perfume, expensive fur, and salt from the sea.
Werewolves in glittering gowns and sharp tuxedos streamed toward the grand entrance. Sera felt a thousand eyes on her, noting her simple dress, her lack of jewels, the wary look in her eyes. She was a stray weed in a garden of cultivated roses.
Garrett took her arm, his touch possessive and tight. "Head high," he hissed in her ear, his smile perfectly in place for the crowd. "Smile."
He began leading her up the massive staircase, weaving through the throng. Sera's senses were overloaded. The pull of the nearby ocean was a physical ache, mixed with the wrongness of the deep-water corruption. The press of so many powerful werewolf auras made her own magic feel small and skittish.
And then, she felt him.
A new presence. Not through the bond, but through the air itself. It was like a drop in temperature, a pocket of absolute stillness in the chaos. It was cold, vast, and hollow.
Her eyes were drawn up, up the stairs, through the towering open doors, and into the blazing light of the Grand Hall. The room was a sea of color and movement. But at the very far end, on a high platform, was an island of perfect calm.
The Silver Throne. And on it, a man who seemed carved from moonlight and shadow.
King Kadrin the Undying.
Even from this distance, Sera could feel the emptiness radiating from him. He sat utterly motionless, his silver hair like a frozen waterfall, his eyes like chips of polished metal. He surveyed his celebrating subjects, and his face was a blank page. No joy at the festival. No interest in the ceremony. Nothing.
A king with no heart, ruling a kingdom of feeling creatures. The stories said he'd been like this for centuries. Cold, but fair. Logical, but distant. The perfect, unfeeling judge.
As she stared, a desperate, crazy thought whispered in the back of her mind. He cannot be swayed by emotion. He only cares about law. About fact.
Could a king like that… believe her?
Garrett's fingers dug into her arm, breaking her trance. "Stop gawking," he muttered, his smile still fixed. "We need to find our position. It's almost time."
He pulled her into the Grand Hall, the noise swelling to a deafening roar. Sera's heart was pounding a frantic rhythm against her ribs. Almost time for what?
Garrett wasn't looking for a place to stand and watch. He was scanning the crowd, his eyes darting from face to face. Sera followed his gaze and her blood ran cold.
There, by a pillar, was a tall woman with a severe bun. She nodded almost imperceptibly at Garrett. Her eyes, when they caught the light, flashed pale green.
Near the main doors, a man in guard's livery but with no official insignia met Garrett's gaze and touched his ear. Green flash.
By the great ocean-view windows, a servant offering champagne glasses winked one green-glowing eye.
They were everywhere. Dozens of them, planted throughout the hall. This wasn't just a ceremony. It was a staging ground. For what?
The music reached a crescendo and then stopped. A hush fell over the crowd. The High Priestess, a woman with kind eyes and silver robes, stepped forward beside the throne.
"The Royal Binding Ceremony commences!" her voice rang out, clear as a bell. "Let the newly blessed pairs come forward and be recognized by your King!"
The ceremony began. One by one, beaming couples approached the throne, knelt, and received the King's toneless blessing. Sera watched Kadrin. He spoke the ancient words, but his voice was flat, automated. He was a machine performing a function.
Garrett was practically vibrating beside her. He kept checking a thin, silver device on his wrist, not a watch but something else. He looked at the ocean windows, then at the green-eyed woman by the pillar. He gave a sharp, single nod.
A low, deep tremor ran through the palace floor, like a giant beast shifting in its sleep beneath the foundations.
Sera felt it first through her feet, then through her connection to the water. Out in the bay, the ocean… shuddered.
The King's empty voice droned on, blessing another couple.
The tremor came again, stronger. A few people in the crowd glanced around, confused.
Then, from deep below the palace, from the very bedrock under the sea, came a sound. It was a low, mournful groan of straining stone and tortured magic. It was the sound of something ancient and powerful… breaking.
Garrett's face split into a triumphant, terrifying grin.
And all hell broke loose.
The giant ocean-view windows didn't just shatter they exploded inward, not from impact, but from a wall of pure, deafening sound. It was a roar so deep it was felt more than heard, the scream of a billion tons of water being forced against its nature. Sera spun toward the sound, and her mind went blank with terror. The ocean was gone. In its place, blotting out the moon and the stars, was a mountain. A sheer, impossible cliff of black water, rising higher than the palace towers, silent and still for one horrifying heartbeat. Then, with a sound that tore the world apart, it began to move, rushing toward the palace not as a wave, but as a falling sky. Garrett's hand clamped on her arm like a vise, his voice a snarl of victory in her ear: "Right on time!"