The contract was written in blood.
Not metaphorically.
Seraphine watched as Kaelan drew the dagger across his palm, letting crimson droplets splatter onto the yellowed parchment. The firelight made the liquid look black as it seeped into the fibers.
"Your turn," he said, offering her the blade.
She took it without flinching. The sting was nothing compared to the ache in her chest where her heart had been. The blade bit deep—deeper than necessary—and she squeezed her fist until her blood pooled alongside his.
Pip made a sound halfway between a laugh and a whimper. "That's... really not how contracts usually work."
"Shut up, Pip," Rook and Brick said in unison.
Kaelan didn't blink as their blood mingled. "By flesh and fury, you join our cause. Your enemies become ours. Your vengeance, our purpose." His voice dropped to a whisper only Seraphine could hear. "And when the time comes, you'll help me claim what's mine."
She met his gaze. "And if I refuse?"
His thumb brushed the wound on her palm, smearing their blood together. "Then you'll never know which of your family's ghosts are real."
A log cracked in the hearth, sending up a shower of sparks.
Rook cleared her throat. "As touching as this is, we have company."
The crossbow was in her hands before Seraphine could process the words. A heartbeat later, the shutters exploded inward.
Black-clad figures poured through the windows like ink spilled across parchment.
Seraphine reacted on instinct. She threw herself sideways as a dagger embedded itself in the wall where her head had been. The blood-slick contract crumpled in her fist as she rolled to her feet, coming up with Pip's abandoned knife in her free hand.
Chaos erupted.
Brick roared, lifting the oak table like it weighed nothing and hurling it at the nearest attacker. Bones crunched on impact. Rook's crossbow sang, the bolt taking a second intruder through the eye.
Kaelan moved like smoke between the shadows, his own blade flashing. But there were too many of them—far too many for a simple bounty hunt.
These weren't just hired swords.
Seraphine recognized the precision of their movements, the way they fought in perfect, silent unison.
Royal guards.
Tristan's personal guard.
A meaty hand grabbed her from behind, yanking her off balance. She drove her elbow back, felt it connect with something soft, and spun to face her attacker—
Only to freeze.
Captain Voris grinned down at her, his teeth red with blood. "Miss me, traitor?"
The arrow wound in his thigh was still weeping.
Behind him, more guards flooded the room. Kaelan was backed into a corner, his usually impeccable doublet torn and bloody. Rook was down, a dagger protruding from her shoulder. Brick fought like a demon, but even giants could fall.
Voris's breath was hot on her face. "Prince Tristan wants you alive. Didn't say in how many pieces."
Seraphine bared her teeth. "Tell me, Captain—do you still taste the poison in your wine?"
His grip tightened. "What?"
She spat in his face.
The moment his grip loosened in disgust, she struck—not with the knife, but with her free hand, driving her bloodied fingers into the wound on his thigh.
Voris screamed.
She didn't wait. Snatching the dagger from his belt, she whirled—
Just in time to see Kaelan drive his sword through the last guard's chest.
Silence fell, broken only by their rough breathing.
Then the walls exploded.
Wood and plaster rained down as a hug figure strode through the newly made hole in the lodge wall. Moonlight glinted off polished armor, off the jeweled hilt of a sword as long as Seraphine was tall.
Prince Tristan smiled . "Hello darling".