THORNS OF DESIRE

CHAPTER ONE The Night of Red Moon The twin moons of Elarion hung low and full, glowing crimson an omen whispered about in ancient songs, a night when the veil between craving and fate grew thin. Princess Lyra stood alone on the eastern balcony of the palace, her silver gown stirring in the warm, enchanted wind. Below her, the Fire Blossom orchards flickered like low flames under the moons’ reflection. She should have been celebrating the Festival of Binding, the night she was meant to formally announce her union to Prince Darius Valen. Instead, her pulse was a restless storm. Tonight the air felt too full, too expectant, as if the entire kingdom held its breath. She wasn’t wrong. The shadows behind her thickened, and without turning she whispered, “You shouldn’t be here.” A deep voice, smooth and dark as velvet yet edged with defiance answered, “If that were true, princess, you wouldn’t have left your guards sleeping against the wall.” Kael. The warlock who’d once pulled her from the jaws of death. The man the kingdom feared. The man she shouldn’t even be alone with especially tonight. Lyra turned. Kael’s tall figure materialized from the shadow, cobalt runes glowing faintly along the strong lines of his forearms. His eyes, an impossible shade of ember gold, locked onto hers with a force that made her breath catch. “You’re bold to come here,” she murmured. “Boldness is not the word you mean,” he replied, stepping closer. “You’re wondering why your heart raced the moment I arrived.” Her throat tightened. “I’m engaged to Darius.” “Engaged,” Kael echoed softly, “but untouched by him. Unclaimed. Uncertain.” Her pulse hammered. Kael always saw too much. Felt too much. Pulled too much out of her with nothing but a glance. Before she could respond, the balcony doors slammed open. Darius stood framed by moonlight, wearing black ceremonial armor that hugged his powerful frame. His storm-blue eyes narrowed instantly at the sight of Kael. The tension between the two men crackled like lightning—old rivalry, old disdain, and something deeper: competition sharpened by desire neither dared name. “Warlock,” Darius growled. “Prince,” Kael replied, voice calm but coiled. Lyra stepped between them. “Stop. Both of you.” But neither man looked at her they only stared at one another, like two wolves circling over the same unspoken prize. “You think you can sneak into the princess’s chambers on tonight of all nights?” Darius snarled. Kael tilted his head, unbothered. “I think she left her doors open for a reason.” Lyra’s breath caught. She hadn’t but gods, part of her wished she had. Darius reached for her waist, pulling her firmly against his side. His hand was possessive, claiming, undeniably dominant. “She is with me,” he said, voice low. Kael’s eyes flicked to the prince’s hand, then to Lyra’s lips. “Funny. I don’t see her pulling away.” She didn’t. She couldn’t. Her heart warred between the two forces tightening around her destiny: Darius power, duty, heat. Kael danger, mystery, hunger. Darius leaned down, whispering at her ear, “You belong to Valens. To me.” Kael stepped close enough that she could feel the warm hum of his magic against her skin. “And still she looks at me first.” Lyra’s breath trembled. The air thickened. The moons blazed crimson, casting the three of them in a wash of fated light. Something in her chest unfurled, slow and dangerous. The night of Red Moons had begun. And nothing duty, desire, or destiny would be the same again.