The citadel halls felt like a cage lined with velvet.
Avelyn walked into the grand dining hall with her chin high, despite the knot of unease curling in her belly. Pillars of obsidian loomed around her, and above, a chandelier flickered with golden light, casting eerie, dancing shadows over the polished floor. The air was thick with old power and older grudges. Seated around the long obsidian table were Kaelen’s inner circle—vampire royalty, ancient, powerful, and proud.
And her? A marked girl with no title, no lineage, and far too many secrets.
Still, she refused to wilt.
Kaelen sat at the table’s head, a vision of composed power in his black tunic threaded with silver. His obsidian crown rested like a whisper in his raven hair, eyes steady, unreadable. Beside him, Queen Seraphine Var
