As we approached the gates of Capitol Hill, I felt that tainted dark magic in such extremes that it was a bit hard to breathe. The higher ranking members of the dark veil cult, or maybe their instigator, were inside. I was sure of it. I could feel it the same way I felt my convoy stir uncomfortably as we got closer.

Even from a distance, the sprawling headquarters of the high council of Wridel looked like a fortress against the darkening sky. The carriage hit a slight bump, jolting me back from my thoughts, and Mouriana’s presence coiled tighter around my consciousness.

How quaint, she drawled. To meet the self-proclaimed high lords of the great houses in one place. Tell me, little witch, how many of them would grovel if they knew what you truly carried within you?

“Not now,” I muttered under my breath, mostly because even I didn’t truly know who Mouriana was yet. But I kept my eyes fixed on the tower as I willed our carriages to slow down. I had to finish whatever this was in time to rejoin the witch’s supper. I couldn’t afford to be a no-show at my own emergence ceremony, or the witches would hold a grudge.

Rynel arched a brow in contemplation but said nothing. She’d been unnervingly silent since I’d mind-linked with her earlier. Her posture had remained stiff, and her hands folded tightly in her lap.

“What is it?” I asked her.

“There is a strange feeling in the air here. It feels tainted somehow, your grace,” Rynel whispered, “and it’s making me nervous.”

“I know. Pay no mind to it. Stay behind me and the sentinels, and you’ll be fine.” Then I paused. “Do you have any active abilities?”

With a sad pout, she shook her head. “It’s always been a passive thing. Delegation, nothing else.”

“You make it sound like it’s a useless skill. It isn’t. Wridel would be one of the greatest sovereignties if most of our sovereigns had that gift.” I huffed. “I’m afraid we’re not far off from becoming like the Dominion of Anarion.”

Not on my watch, Mouriana growled. Let’s go.

The carriages slowed as we neared the gates, the wheels crunching over the gravel path. Sentinels stationed at the entrance watched our approach with sharp eyes, their postures rigid with authority. Marcus’s carriage pulled to a halt first, and I felt the faint thread of his mind as he issued orders to his squadron.

We’re here, Your Grace, his voice reached me through the link, and I wondered how he was able to do that. Was it because I left the link connected?

I nodded, even though he couldn’t see it. Good. Stay close and alert. We have no allies or enemies here. We will take stock as we go.

The carriage jerked to a stop, and Edward opened the door, his eyes scanning the area before stepping aside to let me out. The cool breeze hit my skin as I stepped down, the hem of my emerald gown brushing against the cobblestones.

“Your Grace,” Marcus greeted, bowing as he approached. “Lord Irving is inside the main chamber with the high council.”

At the mention of Devon, my pulse quickened, but I kept my expression carefully composed. Did Marcus already sense him from this distance? That would mean I could likely mind-link with him too. Interesting. “Lead the way,” I said as I followed. As I did, I wondered if Marcus may not be more than just another sentinel. Devon had said Edward and Marcus were the best, and I didn’t bother to find out what he meant.

The way to the main chambers was almost suffocating in its grandeur. Vibrant stonework lined the towering arches above, their colours shifting in the light filtering through narrow windows. It was a display meant to awe, to distract, to impress, but it felt hollow.

They certainly know how to compensate for their inadequacies, don’t they? Mouriana’s voice slithered into my mind and it was full of disdain.

I smiled at her comment as my focus fixed on the massive double doors ahead. They swung open with a loud groan that echoed through the hallway, almost as if they had a mind of their own.

The chamber was dark, with an odour that seeped into your lungs and left you tasting ash. My skin prickled as the unmistakable stench of dark magic hit me—a pungent, oily feeling that was foul. Mouriana stirred immediately, her presence flaring like a warning bell.

Sigils, she hissed. The curse is already woven. The tendrils are everywhere.

I didn’t need her to point them out. The dark swirls coiling along the chamber’s walls and ceiling were visible even to me now, faint but pulsing with wickedness. My stomach tightened. The sigils were meant to target the entire chamber. If activated, they’d engulf everyone inside.

And yet, you were about to stroll in like some naive little debutante. Mouriana’s tone sharpened in a way that reminded me of my mother. Wait. Let me undo the sigils first. Leave your servants here.

They’re not servants, I snapped internally. Mouriana’s irritation flared at my rebuttal, but she said nothing.

I turned to Marcus and the others. “Remain here, all of you. If I need you, I will send for you.”

Marcus hesitated for a fraction of a second, his brows knitting briefly before he nodded. “Understood, Your Grace.”

The sentinels fanned out, their eyes sweeping the hallway. Rynel joined them, standing just beside Edward, her posture stiff but ready.

Mouriana slipped from me in a shimmering, twinkling wisp of light, darting away like a flicker of starlight. I glanced around, half-expecting someone else to notice her, but no one reacted. It seemed I was the only one who could see her.

Go on, little witch, she purred. I will join you once I’m done.

I felt her absence immediately, but I straightened my spine and stepped into the chamber. Each step echoed loudly, my heels clicking against the stone floor as the room revealed itself. The high lords and their entourages filled the space, clustered in groups of finely-dressed schemers. Their voices formed a low, buzzing hum of conversation that faltered the moment I crossed the threshold.

Silence fell like a guillotine. Every eye turned to me, assessing, weighing. Devon sat near the far end of the chamber, his presence standing out even among the posturing nobility. Our gazes locked, and for a moment, the sharp grey of his eyes softened—just a fraction, a flicker of recognition that disappeared as quickly as it came. His expression hardened again, the calm, unreadable mask slipping firmly into place.

He’d felt me long before I arrived. That much was clear in how my presence didn’t surprise him.

“Celeste,” Lady Loreleia’s voice cut through the silence as it usually did, like a blade unsheathed. “You’re just in time.”

My chest tightened at the sound of her voice, the sight of her sitting there so composed and unaffected. That conniving elf had Camille’s blood on her hands, and the urge to lash out and bury her in flames and fury was almost too much to control. My fingers curled into fists at my sides as I forced myself to breathe. Gaia help me, I thought bitterly. But she’ll feel my wrath soon enough.

“For what?” I asked coldly.

A scoff from the side caught my attention. “I see you still lack manners,” Lord Dillard said. His lupine features twisted into a sneer that made my blood boil. Why did this Lycan on the Fellowship despise me so much?

I turned to him, and a wicked glint filled my eyes. I let the silence settled between us for a while as I found the thread linking me to his mind. I could see all of it, their minds and how easy it would be to invade the privacy of their thoughts.

“Since when was it customary to address your Luna so recklessly, Lord Dillard?” I asked venomously. Correct yourself, I ordered through a sharp mind-link, the words searing through his defences like a whip.

He startled, lurching to his feet as if struck. His reaction was satisfying, and his shock glaring as he realized the intrusion. “Lady Irving,” he said hastily, bowing low.

“Better,” I replied, letting my gaze sweep the room before stepping further inside, each deliberate click of my heels echoing through the suffocating silence.

You are so incredibly hot right now, C—il.

Devon’s voice slithered into my mind and I felt his admiration. He rose from his seat at the far end of the chamber and approached me. I fought the smile tugging at my lips, but as he drew closer, it became a losing battle.

“Luna or not, you owe the high council your reverence,” one of the lords scolded. “No one summoned you here, Le Torneau. You are in contempt of intrusion!”

I let my senses stretch across the room, searching for the telltale tendrils of dark magic. But nothing. Either the darkness was expertly concealed, or none of these lords was directly involved with the cult. Which meant one of two things: the cult planned to eliminate the entire council, or someone here was working with them in secret.

“Shut up,” I hissed, my patience splintering as I turned to the source of the voice. Lord D—Quan. He and the room collectively gasped at my audacity.

What’s going on? Devon’s voice was calm, but I could feel his unease at my response.

I ignored his question, my focus locked on D—Quan. “I didn’t come here to bow to your fragile egos or entertain your pathetic need for reverence,” I said coldly. “Your chamber is surrounded by sigils to activate a magic eater veil. Isn’t it your job to be on top of these things?”

The council erupted into murmurs, their polished facades cracking as they argued. D—Quan’s face darkened and I noticed how his hand gripped the armrest of his chair tightly enough to make it creak. “Are you accusing the high council of negligence, Lady Irving?”

“I’m accusing you of incompetence,” I snapped without hesitation. “Your negligence has allowed a cult to infiltrate Capitol Hill, endangering every single one of us here—including my mate. That, I do not take lightly.”

The murmurs rippled through the chamber, growing louder. Devon’s hand found the small of my back, his touch steadying me as he stepped forward.

“Enough,” he commanded and his voice cut through the noise like a blade. The room fell silent almost immediately. “If what my mate says is true, we don’t have the luxury of indulging your outrage. We need to locate the sigils and dismantle them immediately.”

“And if she’s wrong?” Lord D—Quan challenged, his voice trembling with barely suppressed fury.

I stepped toward him, my gaze locking onto his with all the rage I felt for all of them. “The nerve of you, you pathetic fool.”

“How dare you!” Lord D—Quan roared, slamming his fist against the desk as he rose, his anger rolling off him in waves. “You think’”

But he never finished. Mouriana materialized between us, her form shimmering into existence like liquid starlight, both breathtaking and otherworldly. Her presence seemed to draw every whisper of air from the chamber, leaving a stunned silence in its wake.

The council’s collective gasp echoed through the hall. Even the proudest among them shifted uncomfortably, their gazes darting between Mouriana and me as if grappling with the reality before them.

“You dare disrespect the one who vessels your divine!” Mouriana’s voice rang out with a venomous edge that made the chamber tremble. Her glowing form grew taller, bigger, even more terrifying. “I should have your soul for such insolence!”

The room dropped in an instant. Faes and Elves alike, even Loreleia, sank to their knees, bowing low with their heads nearly touching the polished floor.

I shifted my focus briefly, scanning the room until my eyes landed on my mother. For the first time in my life, I saw it clear as day. Shock and horror etched across her usually composed face, her eyes wide, lips pressed into a thin, pale line.

Ah, so it was just as I thought. Mouriana had the same effect on them as she did on Julia. Fear, awe, reverence—emotions that no amount of political power could suppress.

I had made the right decision.

This bond, this contract, would change everything.