Lorenzo burst into Mariluna's chamber the next morning, alarmed to find her already dressed in black.
"Who was on the balcony last night?" she demanded.
He stiffened.
"You saw someone?"
Mariluna held up the blood-written note. The edges of the parchment still curled with heat, as if it had been plucked from fire.
He took it, read the message, twice, then went deathly still.
"'Do not trust the king of ash.'"
His voice was unreadable.
"She wrote 'Mother'," Mariluna said. "Is it… her?"
He shook his head once. "She's dead."
"You said the Court took her. You never said they killed her."
"They don't leave bodies to find, Luna."
Mariluna stepped closer, searching for his expression. "What aren't you telling me?"
Lorenzo didn't answer.
Which was not enough.
Later That Day
They traveled to the Court in silence.
The vehicle Lorenzo used was custom—a black limousine with windows charmed to block not just light, but sight. Magic shimmered around the frame like heat.
David drove.
Lorenzo sat beside her.
He hadn't spoken since reading the note.
The silence between them was no longer cold, it burned, crackling like dry tinder waiting for a match.
Mariluna finally spoke.
"Who is the King of Ash?"
Lorenzo's jaw ticked. "That's not a title."
She frowned. "But."
"It's a warning," he said. "A name the Court whispers behind closed doors. A man made of vengeance and ruin."
"Then why say not to trust you?"
His head turned slowly toward her.
"Because they think I am him."
Arrival at the Court
The entrance wasn't a castle.
It was a chasm, wide and endless.
Stairs carved into obsidian descended in a spiral, glowing with faint runes.
Guards waited at the top, dressed in bone-white robes, their faces covered in silver veils.
"Only she enters," one said.
Lorenzo stepped forward, voice cold. "She is under my protection."
"And she is under our claim," the guard replied.
David handed her a dagger.
Forged of black steel, etched in runes. Silent as breath.
"Hide it," he said softly. "They'll search you. But not well."
Mariluna tucked it beneath her bodice.
Then she stepped forward, and descended alone.
Inside the Court
The hall opened like a cathedral carved into a mountain.
Columns rose high above, threaded with crimson light.
The Court waited.
Seven thrones. Seven Unblooded.
And at the center, the Empty Throne, its arms shaped like talons, its back rising like wings, forged of flame-fused bone.
Lady Orasha stood first, cloaked in spider-silk and smoke.
"Mariluna of the Veil," she purred. "Daughter of ash. Heiress to ruin."
Mariluna said nothing.
A man stepped forward from the shadow beside the throne.
His skin was carved with ancient scars. His mouth was too wide.
Veritas.
"We welcome you," he said, voice slithering. "We offer you what was taken. Will you accept the Crown of Shadows?"
Mariluna stared at the throne.
Then at the faces watching her. Hungry. Thirsting.
She thought of Cassandra.
Of the child messenger with black eyes.
Of the blood-red note.
And her mother's name.
"I came to see it," she said slowly. "Not to wear it."
The room was chilled by ten degrees.
Lady Orasha smiled wider. "Then you misunderstand. You are not here to choose. You are here to submit."
A sharp noise cracked through the hall, like bone splitting.
Veritas snapped his fingers, and two robed figures appeared behind her, grabbing her arms.
She didn't fight.
Not yet.
He stepped closer, holding a black crown in his clawed hands.
"This belonged to the first queen," he said, voice reverent. "She who bled the stars."
He raised it above her head.
But just as he began to lower it.
A roar split the ceiling.
Not human.
Not a beast.
Not anything from this world.
The roof of the Court exploded inward.
And from the dust and debris, a figure landed at the center of the chamber.
Wreathed in smoke.
Eyes burning like molten silver.
Lorenzo.
His voice was thunder:
"Touch her again, and I'll rip your heart out through your spine."