The forest shimmered with secrets.
A thick mist clung to the gnarled trees like a veil, hiding the pathways only those of fae blood could see. Lyriana's boots whispered against the moss as she stepped into the borderlands of the Thorned Court—her court, once. Now, it was little more than a cursed memory wrapped in vines and betrayal.
Her wings, delicate but battle-worn, flexed behind her. She shouldn't be here. Not with a bounty on her head and a curse knotted tight around her heart. But the rumors were true: the High Lord of the Darkwing Court had returned, and he was making bargains—dangerous ones. And she needed one badly.
Lyriana clenched her jaw, pressing a palm to the rose-shaped scar above her ribs. The curse pulsed beneath her skin like a second heartbeat.
She followed the runed trees deeper into enemy territory, heart pounding with every step. Magic thickened the air, sour with old blood and broken oaths.
Then she saw him.
Perched on a crumbling altar of black stone, wings spread wide like a shadow crowning him, was Lord Kael of the Darkwing Court. His obsidian eyes locked onto hers, unreadable. Unforgiving.
"You look like hell, Princess," he said, voice low and dark as a storm.
"You would know. You put me there," she replied coldly.
Kael stood. The air between them rippled with power and memory.
"And yet," he said, descending the steps toward her, "you've come back."
She lifted her chin, every instinct screaming to flee. "I need a bargain."
His smirk was cruel and beautiful. "Of course you do."
She didn't flinch as he approached, but her wings quivered.
"To seal the curse," she said, "I'll kiss the enemy."
Kael's smile faded. His gaze dropped to her lips, then returned to her eyes—dark and searching.
"Then seal it well," he whispered, as the wind fell still.