Page 204 of The Sin Binder's Vow

Andthem.

Lucien stands like he’s carved from judgment itself—sharp suit, sharper gaze, his expression unreadable even as his blue eyes lock on mine. Caspian lounges, smirking like he’s amused we actually showed up. Orin is utterly still. Regal. Eternal. His presence heavier than the others, like time bends around him just to stay out of his way.

And between them…

Branwen.

She’s wrapped in silver-gray, her smile too wide, too soft. Like this is a tea party, not a reckoning. Her beauty is impossible—elegant, inhuman. Not a crack in her veneer. But Iknowher now. I’ve felt her rage. Her cruelty. That smile is a weapon.

“Luna,” she calls, voice honey and knives. “You’ve grown.”

Riven moves first, stepping in front of me, his body half-turned like he’s preparing to strike without a word of warning.

“Get behind me,” he mutters, low.

“No,” I say, stepping beside him.

Branwen’s voice winds through the courtyard like smoke—slow, curling, toxic. She doesn’t raise it. The way she says myname, with that honeyed condescension, that echo ofownership—it’s a noose wrapped in velvet.

Her smile doesn’t falter, but her eyes sharpen, catching on every movement I make like talons on silk. She’s still beautiful—cruelly so— but there’s something underneath now. Desperation lacquered in charm. And it’s that desperation that makes her dangerous.

"It seems we have a little mix-up," she says, as if this is some social inconvenience—an accidental dress code violation at a gala. "Because I was here first. And you've taken something from me, Luna."

She tilts her head, studying me like I’m a puzzle with a piece sheusedto own.

"And I’m going to have to take it back."

The words hang in the air, poised, waiting for blood to respond.

I don’t glance at the others, though I feel them bristling behind me. Silas has gone still—which for him is like the world pausing its spin. Riven’s breathing has changed, controlled and shallow, a prelude to violence. Elias mutters something under his breath that sounds like“Oh, this bitch again,”and Ambrose… Ambrose hasn’t moved at all. But I can feel the focus radiating off him like heat. Calculating. Parsing. Choosing.

"You’re going to have to be more specific," I say, letting my voice meet hers, soft but not sweet. "Because if you’re here for attention, I can promise you—it’s beneath you."

Branwen laughs, and it’s the kind of sound that used to make courtiers weep and soldiers defect.

But not here.

Not anymore.

"Dear girl," she says, like I’m still the barely-there thing she could bend in the Hollow. "I’m not here for attention. I’m herefor what’s mine. And if you think your little bonds—your toys—can keep me from it, you’re far more naïve than I thought."

She glances toward the Sins like they’re already hers. Like their loyalty is a performance they’ve simply forgotten how to end.

My jaw tightens. Not because I believe her. But because part of herdoesbelieve it.

And that? That’s the problem.

"You didn’t lose them," I say, stepping closer, my words low and steady. "You broke them. And now they don’t want to be put back together by you."

Her smile fades.

Caspian shifts beside her, finally looking something other than amused. Orin doesn’t move, but his gaze flicks to mine, unreadable. And Lucien—he watches me with something deeper than disapproval. Almost... grief.

"That’s not your choice to make," Branwen whispers.

"No," I agree, nodding once. "It’s theirs."

Branwen’s smile falters, the edges cracking like porcelain under too much weight. Just a blink—but I see it. The flicker. The fracture.

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