Slade’s posture changes — straightening, shoulders settling into the quiet authority of someone who was born to command. He inclines his head, the faintest acknowledgment. “Your Grace.”
Lucifer’s attention shifts to me. And the air seems to inhale. Not a curse spike — not fear — just an awareness, electric and sharp, threading through the space between us.
“So,thisis the witch.” A faint smile plays at the edges of his mouth. “The Bellamyspark. I wondered when she’d appear.”
Slade moves instantly, stepping half a pace in front of me — not blocking my view, but placing himself firmly between us. His hand finds the small of my back with a possessiveness so quiet it’s almost tender.
“She stands with me,” Slade says.
Lucifer’s smile deepens. “That much is obvious. The realm noticed the moment you arrived.”
A murmur moves through the gathered nobles — soft, restrained, dangerous. The soundof minds recalculating. Of old families adjusting their expectations.
No shrieking whispers, but a court registering a shift in power. The curse reacts to the attention — a low heat blooming beneath my skin, magic bending subtly toward Slade like a compass finding north.
Lanterns flicker in a soft ripple. Shadows lengthen and draw inward. A crystalline pillar near the wall cracks with a delicate chiming sound.
Lucifer’s eyes glow brighter. “Ah. There it is.”
Slade’s jaw tenses. “Stay back.”
“I’m not touching her,” Lucifer replies, unoffended. “But your realm reacts to balance — or imbalance. And she carries both.”
Another figure steps forward from the crowd — tall, elegant, wearing deep cerulean robes threaded with silver. His gaze lingers too long on me. Slade doesn’t even look at him. “That’s close enough.”
The noble ignores him, moving closer. Lucifer’s hand flashes out with the ease of centuries ofrule, fingers closing around the man’s wrist before he can take another step. “Careful,” Lucifer murmurs. “Lord Athalar is in a generous mood tonight. Do not test the limits of his restraint.”
The noble pales and withdraws immediately. Slade’s aura flares — not a scream of violence, but a quiet, lethal promise. I lean closer to him, my voice soft. “Is this… normal?”
“No.” His hand tightens at my waist. “This is what happens when a curse, a mate bond, and a noble house collide under one roof.”
My stomach flips. “So… Special then?”
His eyes burn into mine. “Cataclysmic.”
Lucifer observes us both with a thoughtful expression, then says lightly, “Do try to enjoy yourselves. Dinner will begin shortly. And, Lady Bellamy…” His gaze warms with something almost fond. “…do stay close to him. There are those here who would value you far more than they should.”
Slade growls, low and lethal. Lucifer just laughs, elegant and unbothered, turning back toward thestaircase as the music swells again. But the room doesn’t resume its easy flow.
Every head tracks us. Every aura shifts as if reacting to our presence. The air feels poised on a knife’s edge.
Slade leans down, lips brushing my ear. “Do not leave my side.”
“Wasn’t planning to,” I whisper.
“Good,” he murmurs. “Because if you stray too far…” His fingers brush my hip in a slow, burning drag. “…I won’t be able to stop myself.”
Heat coils in my stomach.
And all around us, the Ninth Realm watches — not hungry, not desperate — but with the sharp, predatory curiosity of creatures sensing the beginning of something they have no precedent for.
Something ancient… dangerous… somethingdestined.
Chapter 16
Slade
The Ninth Court glows like a cathedral carved out of dusk—gold-veined marble, black stone, and drifting motes of starlight that pulse in time with the Realm’s heartbeat.
