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The ceremony starts in forty minutes.
I'm standing in a bathroom that costs more than my entire apartment, staring at a wedding dress I didn't choose. White silk. Long sleeves to hide the bruises from last night's shift. A neckline that shows just enough to look like I'm trying.
Kane's people brought it an hour ago. No fitting. No questions. Just a garment bag and a note in his handwriting: *Wear this. Smile. Don't drink anything I don't hand you myself.*
I smooth the fabric over my hips and try not to think about how this dress probably costs more than Liam's next three treatments combined. That's the point, isn't it? Kane throws money around like it's air, and I'm supposed to be grateful enough to play along.
My phone buzzes. Nora.
*Council's sending a full delegation. Minerva Cole is coming. Watch your back.*
Great. The head of the Gifted Council herself. The woman who signed the execution order on Kane's family six years ago.
I text back: *Is Liam safe?*
*Moved him an hour ago. He's asking questions.*
*Tell him I'm working a double.*
*He's sixteen. Not stupid.*
I shove the phone into the hidden pocket Kane's people sewed into the dress. Of course there's a hidden pocket. Of course Kane thought of everything.
Someone knocks. I open the door.
Kane's in a black suit that fits him like a threat. His hair's pushed back, and the shadows under his eyes are gone—glamour, probably, because I saw how wrecked he looked two hours ago. The curse mark on his wrist is covered by a silver cuff, but I can still see the faint glow bleeding through.
"You clean up nice," he says.
I don't smile. "Is this thing actually going to work?"
"The binding's already active. The ceremony just makes it official in front of witnesses." He steps inside and shuts the door. "Once Minerva sees us married, you're under Rook protection. She can't touch you without starting a war she doesn't want."
"And you?"
"I've been a dead man for six years. Tonight doesn't change that." He pulls a small vial from his jacket. Clear liquid. "Drink this before we go down."
I take it. "What is it?"
"Antidote. Someone's going to try to poison you tonight."
My hand freezes. "You know this for sure?"
"I know Minerva. She'll test the bond. If you die and I don't react, she'll know the marriage is fake." His voice is flat. Practical. Like he's talking about traffic. "So you're going to get poisoned, and you're going to survive, and I'm going to lose my mind just enough to make it convincing."
I stare at him. "You're insane."
"I'm efficient." He nods at the vial. "Drink."
I tip it back. Tastes like burnt metal and seawater. My throat closes for a second, then the liquid hits my stomach and spreads heat through my ribs.
"How long does it last?"
"Four hours. Don't eat or drink anything after that unless I clear it first." He checks his watch. "We need to go. The council's already downstairs."
I follow him into the hallway. The house—mansion, really—is all dark wood and soft lighting. Oil paintings of people who probably died a century ago. Kane inherited this place after his family got slaughtered, but he never lived here. Too many memories. Too many ghosts.
Tonight, he's making an exception.
We stop at the top of the staircase. I can hear voices below. Low murmurs. The kind of polite conversation that's really just people sizing each other up.
Kane offers his arm. I take it.
"Smile," he says quietly. "You're madly in love with me."
"I'm really not."
"Fake it anyway."
We descend.
The living room is full of people I don't know and a few I wish I didn't. Minerva Cole stands near the fireplace, a tall woman in a gray suit with silver hair pulled into a bun so tight it probably hurts. Her eyes track us the whole way down. Cold. Calculating.
Beside her is a younger man—mid-thirties, maybe—with a scar running from his temple to his jaw. He's watching Kane like he's waiting for him to make a mistake.
Nora's near the back, half-hidden behind a couple of council flunkies. She meets my eyes for a second. Gives me the tiniest nod.
Kane stops in the center of the room. His hand tightens on mine.
"Thank you all for coming," he says. His voice carries. Confident. Like he owns the room. "I know this is unexpected."
Minerva's smile doesn't reach her eyes. "A Rook wedding. We thought your line was extinct."
"Reports of my death were greatly exaggerated." Kane's tone is light, but I feel the tension in his grip. "Evelyn and I have been seeing each other for a while. We decided not to wait."
"How romantic." Minerva's gaze shifts to me. "And you, Miss Hart. A paramedic, I'm told. You're aware of what you're marrying into?"
I lift my chin. "I know exactly who he is."
"Do you?" She steps closer. "The Rook family was investigated for black-market curse trade and conspiracy against the council. Kane's parents were executed. His sister disappeared. You understand that associating with him puts you under scrutiny."
"I understand that the council's version of events isn't the only one."
Her smile sharpens. "Brave. Or foolish."
Kane cuts in. "The officiant is waiting. Let's begin."
The ceremony's short. Some council-approved officiant drones through the vows. Kane says his part without hesitation. I say mine and try not to think about how my voice shakes.
When the officiant tells him to kiss me, Kane cups my face and leans in. His lips brush mine—soft, careful, like he's afraid I'll break. Or maybe like he's afraid I'll stab him.
Probably both.
When he pulls back, his eyes are dark. Unreadable.
"Congratulations," Minerva says. She's holding a champagne flute. Someone's passing them around. Crystal glasses on silver trays. "A toast. To the happy couple."
Everyone takes a glass. I reach for one.
Kane's hand closes over my wrist. He pulls me close—closer than before—and his mouth brushes my ear.
"The first toast is poisoned," he whispers.
My heart slams into my throat. I look at the tray. Six glasses. They all look the same.
Minerva raises hers. "To loyalty. And the bonds that bind us."
I don't move. Kane takes a glass and hands it to me, then grabs another for himself. His fingers brush mine as he passes it over, and I feel a spark—magic, faint and sharp.
He switched them.
Everyone drinks. I lift the glass to my lips and take the smallest sip I can manage. It tastes fine. Normal.
Kane drains half his glass and sets it down. "Thank you all for being here. Evelyn and I are going to step outside for a moment."
Minerva's smile is thin. "Of course. Newlyweds."
We make it to the terrace before my hands start shaking. I set the glass down on the stone railing and press my palms flat against the cold surface.
"I didn't drink the poisoned one, did I?"
"No. You're fine." Kane leans against the railing beside me. "Minerva just wanted to see if I'd protect you. Now she knows the bond's real."
"And if you'd guessed wrong?"
"I didn't."
I want to hit him. I want to scream. Instead, I take a breath and look out at the garden. The city skyline glows in the distance. Vesper City. My home. The place that's about to get torn apart if Kane's curse breaks loose.
"How long do we have to stay?"
"Another hour. Then we leave before anyone gets creative."
I'm about to respond when I feel it. A cold, creeping sensation sliding up my left arm. I look down.
Blood.
Thin red lines are writing themselves across my wrist. Elegant, looping script. They spell out a name.
*Kane Rook.*
I stare. The blood isn't mine. It's too dark. Too cold.
"Kane."
He turns. Sees my wrist. His face goes white.
"That's not possible," he says.
The name finishes writing itself. Then, below it, two words appear.
*He's mine.*
The blood vanishes. My skin is clean. Unmarked.
But I can still feel it. A presence. Something watching.
Kane grabs my hand and yanks me toward the door. "We're leaving. Now."
"What was that?"
"A message." His voice is tight. "Someone just claimed me. And they used a dead man's blood to do it."
"Dead—"
"The kind of magic that requires a sacrifice." He pulls me through the house, past the guests, past Minerva's sharp eyes. "Someone just killed to send that message. And they wanted you to see it."
We hit the front door. Kane's car is waiting. He shoves me into the passenger seat and floors it before I even get my seatbelt on.
I look at my wrist. Still clean. But I swear I can still see the words burning under my skin.
*He's mine.*