Chapter 23 · The Ring Remembers

Calian's hand locked around my throat before I could reach the ring.

"Don't touch it," he snapped.

The old bloodstone sat in my brother's raised palm, glowing red through the cracks in the black metal. The inner gate behind him had burst open, throwing soldiers across the stone floor. Calian's council scattered in every direction, but the man wearing my brother's face didn't run.

He smiled at me.

"You always were slow, Seraphina."

My stomach dropped. "You died twelve years ago."

"No. Your family buried the wrong body."

Calian shoved me behind him. His shoulders filled my view, broad and tense beneath his black coat. Heat rolled off him, sharp with iron and wolf. His fingers stayed at my throat, not squeezing hard enough to hurt, but close enough to remind me who controlled the space between us.

"Stay behind me," he said.

"Move."

His head turned a fraction. One gray eye cut toward mine. "That wasn't a request."

"And I didn't ask for a husband who gives orders like a prison guard."

The false brother lifted the ring higher. Red light crawled over his knuckles.

"Still fighting him?" he called. "Good. It means the bond hasn't ruined you yet."