Page 53 of Blood Marked

Not since the last time blood had been spilled over diplomacy.

Now, under the weight of assassinations, prophecy, and power plays, it had been called again.

Kael hated every second of it.

He stood in the marbled rotunda of House Fenrir’s High Hall, flanked by his guards, crownless and unarmored, but still every inch the heir. His presence wasn’t for show—it was warning.

Let the other heirs come. Let them posture. He’d bleed anyone who thought they could lay claim to what was his.

Especiallyher.

Selene stood to his right, her cloak fur-lined, her chin high. She didn’t cling. Didn’t cower. She was composed steel wrapped in silk, and it made his chest ache with something damn near reverence.

He hadn’t told her how tightly he’d held her name in his dreams the night before.

He wouldn’t. Not yet.

The first to arrive was Lucien Umbraclaw—tall, lean, with black hair and a smile like a snake stretching in the sun. His eyes were silver, unreadable.

He walked like he owned the shadows, dressed in layered obsidian leathers, his House sigil burned into the shoulder of his cloak.

“Kael,” he drawled, bowing with a mockery of grace. “Still brooding, I see.”

Kael didn’t blink. “Still breathing, I see. Where’s your mother?”

“The Queen decided it was time I attend these alone while she matters some delicate issues at our own court,” the panther prince answered vaguely.

Lucien laughed. “For now.”

Selene tilted her head, studying him. Lucien’s gaze flicked to her, and his smile widened.

“And you must be the famed Bond.”

Kael growled low under his breath. “Careful, Lucien.”

“Oh, come now. I’m beingcharming.”

“She has a name,” Kael said sharply.

Lucien’s eyes gleamed. “I imagine she hasmany.”

Selene stepped forward before Kael could speak again.

“Selene Morwen,” she said smoothly. “Daughter of Ambassador Elias Morwen. Not a Bond. Not a conquest. Try again.”

Lucien’s lips parted slightly, like he hadn’t expected venom from the girl the court had labeled delicate.

Kael fought a grin.

Gods, she was perfect.

Next came Calder Grimhart.

Grimhart had been a presence once already—kind, hawk-eyed though. His pale hair was braided back tight, jawperpetually clenched, much more professional and wound up then the last time Kael had seen him.

He bowed stiffly to Kael.

“Grimhart,” Kael said.

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