Page 70 of Blood Marked

A soft rustle rippled through the court. Heads turned. Even the walls seemed to lean in.

Kael’s hand closed over the ceremonial blade.

She felt her chest clench. “Kael?—”

But he didn’t turn.

“I will do so,” he continued coldly, “with a consort chosen from within the court. Not from the human alliance. Not from outside blood.”

No.

No. That wasn’t what this was.

That wasn’t whattheywere.

The ache started low in her ribs and bloomed outward like poison.

“My relationship with the envoy was forged in necessity,” he said. “But she does not represent this court. Nor this throne.”

Selene stood frozen.

There was no disbelief in the room. No outcry. Not even a raised voice. The courtacceptedit. Like it was expected.

Even Nyra didn’t speak. Her gaze flicked briefly toward Selene—but there was no warning in it. Just… sorrow.

Selene’s throat burned.

Kael didn’t look back once.

Not when she shifted her weight forward, not when her lips parted in disbelief, not when her hands slowly curled into fists at her sides.

A blade through the heart would’ve been kinder.

He had just thrown her to the wolves.

And done it with a voice so smooth, so practiced, she couldn’t tell if ithadbeen real. Any of it. The kiss. The bond. The fucking second bond. The promises.

Had itallbeen part of the game?

She stumbled back, breath catching as humiliation and rage rose like wildfire.

The nobles whispered now, not in horror—but strategy.

Of course. He’d made himself the noble hero. Rejected the foreign threat. Claimed a court-born consort. Secured legacy and bloodline.

The perfect play.

And she had been the perfect pawn.

She didn’t stay.

Didn’t wait for the seal of office. Didn’t wait for him to name the new bride.

She walked out.

Head high. Shoulders set. But fire boiling beneath every step.

And when she reached her quarters—still barely intact from the assault—she shut the door and let her body collapse against it.

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