Elara barely slept that night. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw the Fae prince’s hungry curiosity, the vampire heir’s piercing crimson stare, and the way the palace attendants whispered the word prophecy as if it were a curse. The images tangled together in her mind, forming a knot she could not loosen. Her dreams were fractured, filled with shadows, moonlight, and voices she could not understand.
By morning, she was a breath away from unraveling.
Mira found her pacing the length of her chambers, her steps sharp against the moonstone floor. Her hair was tangled, her eyes shadowed, and her hands shook every time she tried to steady her breath.
“Elara,” Mira said gently, “Her Majesty requests your presence in the Moon Garden.”
Elara nodded, though her stomach tightened. “Is someth
