We stand there, Damon looking at the ground, each trying to come to terms with the sudden truth. Damon’s breathing gradually steadies.

The twin bond hums between us—not pulling or aching like it usually does, but warm. Settled. Like two halves finally finding each other.

When he finally looks up, his face is blotchy, eyes red-rimmed. He looks younger somehow. More human.

“I don’t care about the throne,” he says, voice rough. “I don’t care about the prophecy or ancient law or any of it.” His hands grip my shoulders. “I just want my sister to live.”

The words hit me square in the chest. My own eyes burn with tears I’ve been holding back.

“Then we find another way,” I say. “Together.”

“How?” His voice cracks. “The trials are sacred. If we refuse to fight, the council will force it. And if we fight but don’t—” He stops. “There’s no way out that doesn’t end with one of us dead.”

“There has to be.” I take his hands, squeezing hard. “Because I just found my brother. I’m not losing him now.”

Something flickers across his face—hope mixed with desperate fear. The twin bond pulses between us, and for the first time since I learned what it was, it doesn’t feel like a burden.

It feels like hope.

But hope isn’t enough. Not against what we’re facing.

“Damon,” I say carefully. “There’s something you need to know. About why the Queen Mother wants this so badly.”

His expression shutters slightly, walls trying to rebuild. “What do you mean?”

“The mate bond. Between me and Theron.” I force myself to hold his gaze. “It’s not real. It was never real.”

He goes very still. “What?”

“It’s fabricated. Artificial magic, forced onto both of us.” The words taste like poison. “Someone created it to keep me weak. To cage me in Shadowpine where I couldn’t discover who I was. Where I couldn’t grow strong enough to threaten anyone.”

“Who?” But something in his eyes says he already knows. Already suspects.

“The Queen Mother.” I watch his face carefully. “She orchestrated it. Years ago, before I even knew what a mate bond was. She hired a dark witch to bind me to Theron artificially.”

The color drains from his face. “No.”

“Malik and I heard her tonight. She was meeting with her loyalists, laying out her plan.” I grip his hands tighter as they start to shake. “She’s been poisoning the King. Slowly, for months. She wants him weak enough that when you take the throne, she can rule as regent.”

“That’s not—she wouldn’t—” But his voice is hollow. He’s already believing it.

“She wants me dead in the trials. Wants you to kill me so the guilt will destroy you, make you easier to control.” The words come faster now, desperate. “She admitted it, Damon. Said she’s been planning this since before we were born. Since our mother got pregnant and threatened everything she’d built.”

He’s shaking his head, but tears are streaming down his face again.

“She killed my mother,” I whisper. “Your mother. Queen Elara. The Queen Mother murdered her.”

“Stop.” The word is choked. “Please, just—”

“She never wanted you to find me.” I can’t stop now. He needs to hear all of it. “She wanted you to kill me without ever knowing me. To make you into a weapon she could control through guilt and pain and—”

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