The prince who cursed my fate

“Kill her.” The words rang through the throne room like a verdict already passed. Cold stone pressed into my bare feet as the guards dragged me forward, and I realized too late that this wasn’t a dream. It was a sentence. The room smelled of moonlight and blood. High above, figures sat in judgment—fae nobles cloaked in shadow and silk, their eyes glowing silver, gold, violet. None of them looked human. None of them looked merciful. “On her knees,” someone ordered. I was shoved down so hard the air tore from my lungs. Pain shot through my palms, but I didn’t cry out. I couldn’t afford to. My heart slammed against my ribs. This was it. I lifted my head. At the center of the hall, on a throne woven from black thorns, sat Prince Kaelen Thorne. He didn’t speak. Neither did he move. He just watched me—as if I were something already dead. Fear crawled up my spine, sharp and suffocating. My throat burned as I swallowed it down. If I showed weakness now, they would tear me apart. “She crossed the veil,” a voice said. “A human,” another sneered. “A spy,” someone hissed. “Execute her.” My fingers curled into fists. Think. I said to myself. I have to survive. The prince finally leaned forward. The room fell silent. Those dark eyes locked onto mine, and at that moment I knew—whatever he decided would not be questioned. I opened my mouth before fear could stop me. “I didn’t choose this.” A murmur rippled through the court. The prince’s gaze sharpened. “Explain,” he said. One word, heavy as metal. I sucked in a breath. Three hours earlier, I had been running across a crowded street, late for my shift at the museum, convinced the worst thing that could happen was missing a deadline. I was wrong. THREE HOURS EARLIER By nine p.m., the museum had gone unnaturally quiet. Too… quiet. I knelt in the center of the Otherworldly Artifacts hall, my sketchpad open, flashlight clenched between my teeth. The security guard was asleep at the front desk. I was alone. That was when I saw it… the mirror. No frame. No markings. Just a smooth oval of dark glass mounted on a stone pedestal. It reflected nothing—not even me. My fingers tingled. Don’t touch it, that tiny voice in my head spoke. But… I touched it. Cold flooded my skin, sharper than ice. The surface rippled beneath my hand. “What the—” A c***k split the mirror with a sound like bone snapping underwater. The lights died. The glass pulsed once….twice. Then the world exploded into white. I screamed, but the sound vanished from my chest. The floor dropped away, and something ancient wrapped around me, dragging me through light, fire and screaming air. My lungs burned, my bones screamed. Darkness swallowed me— I wasn’t falling, I was being taken.