The sentencing happens three days after the bond breaking.

The Queen Mother kneels in the throne room, stripped of her purple silks. In rough brown cloth, her hair unbound, she looks smaller. Older. Almost pitiful.

Almost.

“Seraphine of House Silvercrest,” the King’s voice rings through the hall. “You stand accused of regicide, conspiracy, poisoning, and forbidden magic. How do you plead?”

She doesn’t answer. Just stares at Damon with pleading eyes.

“Guilty on all counts. The sentence is exile.” The King’s voice is firm. “You will be stripped of title, lands, and power. If you ever return to Lycan territory, the sentence is death.”

Not execution. A mercy the King grants because she did, in her twisted way, raise his son.

Through our twin bond, I feel Damon’s complicated grief—anger and betrayal tangled with memories of a woman who read to him as a child, who held him when he had nightmares.

“I did it for you,” the Queen Mother says, voice breaking. “Everything. I loved you—”

“You loved power,” Damon says quietly. “I was just the means to get it.”

“No—you were my son. I made you strong, worthy. Everything I did—”

“After everything you’ve done?” His voice cuts through her pleading. “Don’t expect me to believe in your love.”

Her mouth opens but no words come. Just a sob that sounds like something breaking.

Guards lift her to her feet. She doesn’t fight, just keeps staring at Damon as they lead her away, tears streaming.

When the doors close, Damon’s shoulders sag. I take his hand, and through the bond I push comfort, understanding, shared grief for the woman who might have been a mother but chose to be a monster instead.

“Are you okay?” I ask quietly.

“No.” His honesty cuts. “But I will be. Eventually.”

The King gestures us forward. “The court must decide the succession. There are… complications now.”

That’s an understatement.

Two living heirs where there should be one. A prophecy that demanded death but got defiance. A kingdom uncertain about what comes next.

“Speak,” the King says. “Both of you. Tell the court what you propose.”

Damon and I exchange glances. We’ve discussed this—late nights planning, arguing, finding compromise. Now we have to convince an entire court.

“The blood trials end,” I say, my voice clear. “No more killing siblings. No more forcing children to murder each other for a throne.”

Murmurs ripple through the assembled nobles. Shock. Disapproval. Fear of change.

“The prophecy—” someone starts.

“The prophecy is wrong.” Damon’s voice cuts through. “My sister and I have proven that. We survived the blood rite. Our magic merged instead of destroying each other. We’re stronger together than we ever could be apart.”

“But there can only be one heir,” a noble protests. “One ruler. That’s the law—”

“Then we change the law.” I step forward. “We propose twin monarchs. Shared power, shared responsibility, shared rule.”

The room erupts.

“Impossible!”

“Unprecedented!”

“It violates centuries of tradition!”

The King raises his hand, and silence falls. “Let them finish.”

“We’re not asking you to trust us because of bloodline or prophecy,” Damon says. “We’re asking you to look at what we’ve done. We survived assassination attempts, political manipulation, and a corrupted system designed to destroy us.”

“Together, we’ve already changed things,” I add. “Exposed corruption. Saved the King. Defied the blood trials. We’ve proven we can work as partners, not competitors.”

“And if you disagree?” A noble’s voice, sharp with challenge. “If you fight? If the shared power becomes a weapon?”

“Then the bond between us will stop it before it starts.” Damon’s hand finds mine. “We’re twin souls now. What hurts one hurts both. We literally cannot harm each other without harming ourselves.”

I feel it—the truth of his words through our connection. The bond that was forged in blood and pain and love. Unbreakable.

“The council will deliberate,” the King says. “But know this—” his eyes sweep the room, “—I’ve already made my choice. Both my children will inherit. Both will rule. Whether you accept it gracefully or begrudgingly is up to you.”

It’s not quite settled, not quite secure. But it’s a start.

Later, I find Theron in the courtyard.

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify