After all, I am the monster of the Shadow Court.
And monsters take what they want.
CHAPTER 6
THE BINDING
Seraphina
The handmaidens' hands feel like insects crawling across my skin. They wash, perfume, and prepare me with mechanical detachment, their faces carefully blank. I can smell their anxiety—the sharp, bitter scent of betas afraid of crossing an alpha. I stare at the ceiling, my body present but my mind elsewhere—replaying the moment Malakai's shadows enveloped Asher, the terrible sound that tore from his throat, the way his body contorted as the darkness tore him apart.
The silence in the chamber is oppressive. None of the handmaidens speak, though they exchange meaningful glances when they think I'm not looking. They know their place too well to risk commenting on their lord's future omega.
A hysterical laugh threatens to bubble up my throat. If only they knew. This isn't the blank shock of a nervous omega bride. This is the hollow emptiness that comes after watching the man you love die in front of you, his blood spattering your face, your screams doing nothing to stop it.
I still feel the phantom sensation of Malakai's tongue against my cheek as he licked away Asher's blood, his eyes never leaving mine. "Now you're truly mine," he had said. "No more distractions."
"Stand," one of the handmaidens commands, pulling me from the memory.
I rise mechanically, catching sight of myself in the tall mirror across the room. I look for some visible mark of what happened, some evidence of the trauma etched into my features. But there's nothing. Just a young omega with golden eyes that seem too large for her face, her skin unnaturally pale.
I had expected to see the maid my father had promised would come in the morning to offer tea—a way for me to get a message to him. I wanted to inform him of Asher's death. But this morning, no maid had offered me tea.
My focus returns to the mirror. The reflection is a lie. It doesn't show the rage burning inside me, the grief that threatens to swallow me whole, the hatred that now has a single, razor-sharp focus: Malakai.
"It's time for the ceremonial gown," announces Mistress Kate, gesturing toward the black wedding dress hanging in the corner of the room—the same one I had tried on yesterday. Was it only yesterday? It feels like a lifetime ago.
They move to dress me, but something in me snaps. I step back, arms crossed over my chest.
"No."
Mistress Kate's eyebrows rise. "This is not optional, Lady Seraphina."
"I will not wear it." My voice sounds strange even to my own ears—flat, dead. "That is a funeral shroud, not a wedding gown."
I lunge for her, faster than anyone expects. My fingers close around her throat before she can react.
"Guards!" Mistress Kate chokes out.
The chamber doors burst open. Two guards rush in, pulling me off her, their grips bruising. Mistress Kate straightens her collar, her composure barely ruffled.
"Grief makes even omegas dangerous," she observes to the guards, dismissing my speed as emotional reaction rather than trained reflex. They accept this explanation, as I knew they would.
"You will wear the dress," Mistress Kate says, her voice leaving no room for argument. "Willingly or not."
I want to fight them. Every muscle in my body tenses with the desire to strike, to use the skills I've spent years perfecting. But I can't reveal that training—not yet. Not when my only advantage lies in being underestimated as a "docile" omega.
So I stand rigid as they dress me, every touch an insult, every adjustment a violation. My face remains impassive, but my eyes burn with such intensity that one young handmaiden flinches when she meets my gaze.
"I will kill him," I say softly as they lace the gown at my back, my voice carrying in the silent chamber. Not a tantrum, not a threat—a promise, spoken with the same certainty as one might comment on the weather.
"There," Mistress Kate says with grim satisfaction, ignoring my words. "A perfect Shadow Court bride."
She studies me for a moment. "Many have tried. All have failed—though some lasted longer than others before they broke." Her gaze holds something almost like pity. "The living must survive, Lady Seraphina . Remember that when you're tempted to become a martyr."
Mistress Kate glances at the guards. "Restrain her," she orders calmly. "Lord Malakai anticipated this might be difficult."
One guard grabs each of my arms. Mistress Kate turns away and from a box I hadn't noticed, she removes what appear to be delicate silver chains. They shimmer in the dim light, strange shadows playing across their surface.
