BOUND TO THE POISON QUEEN

Chapter 2

Metal crumpled like paper. Glass exploded inside the cabin.

My car spun out of control. The world turned upside down.

I saw the concrete barrier of the bridge approaching fast. I couldn't stop. I couldn't steer.

The car smashed through the concrete wall.

For one terrifying second, there was no sound. Just weightlessness. Gravity pulling me down into the black abyss below the bridge.

Then came the impact.

The car hit the icy river surface.

The front windshield shattered instantly. Freezing river water flooded the car. It burned my skin like fire.

Pain screamed through my chest. My ribs were crushed. The steering wheel jammed into my sternum.

I couldn't move my legs. I was trapped.

Water filled my mouth. My lungs burned for air.

30 beats per minute.

15 beats per minute.

Darkness crept in from the edges of my eyes. My conscious mind began to fade.

I didn't scream. I didn't cry.

My last thought was purely logical: Drowning takes four minutes. Suffocation takes three. I am officially dead.

I closed my eyes and let the freezing water take me.

I didn't expect to wake up.

Death was supposed to be a quiet, dreamless void. No pain. No thought. Just absolute zero.

Instead, my eyes snapped open.

My lungs gasped for air. I took a deep, violent breath.

Air hit my throat like hot needles. It burned. It hurt so badly I gasped again.

I was not underwater. I was not in my car.

I was lying on a stone surface. It was freezing cold, but it didn't feel like concrete. It felt rough. Unpolished.

The air was heavy and thick. It didn't smell like river water o formaldehyde.

It smelled like burnt flesh, iron, rust, and damp dirt.

I tried to sit up. A wave of dizziness hit my head so hard I almost vomited.

I looked down at my hands to push myself up.

I froze.

The skin on my fingers was smooth. Pasty white. Pristine.

The scar on my left thumb from a scalpel accident when I was twenty-two was gone. The chemical stains on my knuckles were gone.

My fingernails were long, painted in a deep dark red polish, and sharp.

"What is this?" I whispered.

My voice sounded wrong. It wasn't my low, gravelly voice. It was higher. Smoother. Like velvet.

I looked down at my body.

I was wearing a massive, heavy dress made of black velvet and crimson silk. The corset was laced so tight it bruised my waist. Gold thread was embroidered along the sleeves.

This was not modern clothing. This looked like historical court wear.

Sudden, violent memories exploded inside my skull.

It felt like someone was driving a red-hot nail straight into my brain.

Pictures flash in my mind. A kingdom of dark spires. A throne of black iron. A woman standing over kneeling men with a whip in her hand.

A woman named Aurelia.

Princess of the Lothian Empire. Spoiled.

Corrupt. Vicious. A monster who tortured her own court for pleasure. A woman who bound four powerful non-human leaders to her side using dark blood magic, treating them like wild animals.

Aurelia had been drinking poison an hour ago. Someone had slipped nightshade into her wine glass during a private feast.

She died in this very basement while coming down to torment her prisoners.

And now, I was inside her body.

"Transmigration," I muttered, pressing my delicate, spotless hands against my throbbing temples. "Logical impossibility. Sure. And yet, universe decided to personally deliver me into this mess. How generous."

I forced myself to breathe slowly. 1, 2, 3, 4. Panic was a luxury I couldn't afford.

I cleared my mind. I analyzed the facts. My old body died in a river. My soul or consciousness was now sitting inside a dead princess's body in a completely different world.

Suddenly, a loud metallic rattle echoed from the dark corner of the dungeon.

The sound of thick iron chains hitting stone walls.

A low, guttural growl vibrated through the floorboards. It was deep. Animalistic. Drenched in pure, terrifying malice.

I turned my head slowly toward the pitch-black shadow at the back of the cell.

Two glowing, golden eyes lit up in the dark, staring directly into my soul.

Thick iron cuffs bound his wrists and ankles. A massive iron collar was clamped around his neck, attached to heavy chains anchored into the stone wall behind him.

His hair was ink-black, long, and matted with sweat. Pointed ears poked out through the dark strands.

And then there were his eyes. Bright, predatory gold. Vertical slits for pupils. They glowed in the dim torchlight like two burning embers.

Kael.

Aurelia's memories hit me again like a sharp slap.

He was a beastkin leader. A shadow-shifter from the northern outer territories. Aurelia had captured him during a border raid, locked him in her private dungeon, and spent the last six months breaking him.

Yesterday, she had used a silver-tipped whip on his back for two hours straight just because he refused to bow to her.

He hated her. Every single cell in his body was screaming to tear her head off.

Kael took a step forward. The iron chains snapped taut, jerking him back by the neck. The collar bit into his raw flesh. Fresh blood welled up around the metal.

"Look at you," Kael snarled. His voice was a gravelly, low rumble that vibrated right through the stone floor and straight into my chest. "Stumbling around like a drunk pig."

I stayed sitting on the cold floor. I observed him the same way I used to observe a specimen on my autopsy table.

His breathing was shallow and fast. 110 beats per minute.

His skin was flushed despite the freezing temperature of the basement.

His pupils were dilated, twitching every time the torchlight flickered.

He was in severe shock. But there was something else.

I looked closer at his neck. Around the edges of the iron collar, the skin was turning a sickening shade of deep purple. Black veins were crawling upward toward his jawline like a spiderweb of dead tissue.

"You're poisoned," I said flatly.

My voice was calm. Controlled. No trembling.

Kael blinked. For a split second, the raw rage in his golden eyes flickered with confusion. He slammed his fist against the wall, rattling the chains violently.

"Shut up!" he roared. Fangs flashed in his mouth. Sharp. Lethal. "Save your fake concern, Princess. You're the one who put these irons on me!"

"I know," I replied. "And whoever made that collar coated the inside rim with aconite. High concentration. It's leeching straight into your jugular."

Kael let out a dark, bitter laugh. He spit blood onto the stone floor near my feet.

"Is this your new game, Aurelia?" he spat, his chest heaving with ragged breaths. "Trying to make me beg for a cure? Trying to see if I'll crawl over and kiss your shoes before I drop dead?"

He leaned forward as far as the chains allowed. The heat radiating off his body was intense. He smelled like wild rain, iron, and sweat.

"I would rather rot in this dirt," he hissed. His gold eyes locked onto mine with terrifying focus. "I would rather let the poison melt my heart than give you the satisfaction of hearing me cry."

I pushed myself up from the cold floor. The heavy velvet skirt of Aurelia's dress rustled around my ankles. My head spun for a second, but I locked my knees and stood straight.

I didn't flinch. I walked right toward him.

Kael's posture went rigid. His muscles coiled like a spring ready to burst. He raised his heavy, iron-bound arms, preparing to crush my skull the moment I got close enough.

"Take one more step," he growled. "I'll break your neck before your guards can draw a blade."

I stopped just outside his physical reach.

On a small wooden desk near the cell door sat a ring of heavy brass keys, a half-empty bottle of cheap wine, and a leather whip stained with old blood.

I ignored the whip. I reached out and picked up the ring of keys.