The day Sylus Drakareth Vezmera walked free from his engagement was when Renee Arcadia Nosfera finally began healing.

The worst of the sigil-burns had closed. Her body still ached, especially at night, but her strength had begun to return. Her magic stopped lashing against itself with every hour and started humming in quiet, dangerous harmony.

And through all of it, Damien stayed at her side.

The bond between them had settled into something almost feral—tender but volatile in its intensity. As the old texts called it, the hot week arrived with ruthless precision. A biological and magical reckoning for two souls finally snapped into alignment.

They barely left each other’s arms.

It wasn’t just desire—it was need. Skin-to-skin grounding. Breath-for-breath balance. Some nights, it was fire. Some mornings, it was stillness. But always, it was them.

They took a weekend away—no guards, no duties, just isolation in a royal-owned lakehouse outside the Arcadian range. Secluded trees. Ward-wrapped silence. A fireplace and a shared bed that never went cold.

It was the first time Renee let herself stop. Fully. And Damien—despite being made of stone and storm—was gentle with her in ways no one else ever saw. He didn’t speak much, but when he touched her, it was reverence. When he kissed her, it was gravity.

By the time they returned, their bond was no longer tentative.

It was a fact.

Two more weeks passed.

Renee returned to class with the air of a queen pretending to be a student. Professors didn’t ask questions—they adjusted syllabi. Peers didn’t talk back—they cleared her path.

The whispers hadn’t stopped since the leaderboard. Or since the cafeteria. Or since the truth of her name became public record.

But Renee didn’t rise to them. She just walked through them.

Unbothered.

The sigils on her back had faded to intricate white-gold patterns. The dragons beneath her skin no longer warred for space—they purred in quiet, watchful alignment.

Her strength was back.

And it was time.

The Arcadian court had scheduled the official dissolution meeting—her final public severance from Prince Elias Cyran Velandros.

There would be no debate, no challenge. He had already signed the documents, and so had King Thareon, who was serving as arbiter.

All that remained was the final seal.

And her appearance.

Renee’s dressing room was filled with quiet luxury—soft daylight spilling in from tall windows, the faint scent of citrus and cedar hanging in the air, and the rustle of silk and polished heels against marble.

She stood at the center, half-buttoned into a sharp white suit, her expression serene but distant.

Sasha lounged on the velvet chaise with one leg draped over the armrest, watching her like a cat ready to pounce. “You know you’re dressing for a political severing, not a seduction, right?”

Renee raised an eyebrow. “Can’t it be both?”

“Fair,” Sasha grinned. “Still—white suit, black top, gold jewelry, and red lips? Bold. Subtle as a sword.”

“She’s sending a message,” Eleonor said from the corner, arms folded as always. “Clean slate. Power. And no apologies.”

Renee fastened the final button with steady fingers, her eyes flicking toward the mirror.

“I’m not going to that room looking like a girl who got tossed,” she said. “I’m walking in like I already own the outcome.”

Sasha tilted her head, twirling a gold earring between her fingers. “You already do. Elias signed. The seals are set. No court in any realm would dare contest it.”

Renee didn’t answer right away.

She reached for a delicate gold necklace and clasped it at her throat, her fingers lingering for a breath longer than needed.

Eleonor noticed.

“You’re expecting something,” she said quietly.

Renee blinked, then gave a small, polished smile. “Am I?”

“You’ve been quiet. Focused. But not calm.”

Sasha narrowed her eyes. “You think Elias will try something?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Renee said, finally stepping into her heels. “The moment I step into that chamber, whatever’s left between us ends.”

But something flickered behind her eyes.

No doubt. Not fear.

Hunger.

She didn’t say what she hoped for—but both women could feel it. She wasn’t just there to finish a chapter.

She was looking for something.

A reaction. A moment. A final move on the board.

But Renee? She played her cards closely.

Sasha stood and adjusted the lapel of Renee’s blazer. “There. Now you look like someone who eats scandals for breakfast.”

Eleonor handed her the file containing the original contract and the final dissolution seal. “Ready?”

Renee took it, eyes steady.

“Let’s end this.”

She turned toward the door, her stride already echoing across the stone like the opening move of a battle.

And behind her, neither Sasha nor Eleonor said it aloud—

But they knew:

Renee wasn’t just walking into closure.

She was walking into the fire.

And she was hoping it burned back.

***

The meeting room in Arcadia Palace was designed for verdicts, not comfort.

Black stone floors. High arching windows sealed against the light. A long obsidian table that seemed to drink in sound. Gold-veined lines etched into the surface pulsed faintly with containment runes — not decorative, but functional. This wasn’t a ceremony.

This was execution.

At the head of the table sat King Thareon Drakareth of Drakoryth — cool, unshaken, sovereign.

To his right, his eldest son, Sylus Drakareth Vezmera, leaned back in his chair with his usual poise. Hands folded. Face unreadable. Invited as an observer, nothing more — yet fully aware that what he would witness here might one day reflect on his own life.

Across the table sat King Albrecht Velandros of Velandria — his features drawn, his eyes tired — and Queen Seralyne, sharp and statuesque beside him. Prince Elias Velandros sat tense between them, his expression simmering under the surface.

No one spoke.

Then the doors opened.

She entered.

Renee Arcadia Nosfera walked into the room like a blood moon rising.

She wore a sharply tailored white suit — immaculate, precise, regal without ornament. A black silk top beneath shimmered faintly with woven sigils. Gold jewelry lined her ears and throat like quiet authority. Her lips were painted a deliberate, dangerous red. Her hair was bound into a sleek high bun, leaving nothing soft about her appearance.

Behind her walked Xavier Reed — not a noble by Arcadian law, but something more dangerous: a former crown prince of Aurivallis, the kingdom of the silver courts, who had relinquished his throne to stand beside her. His charcoal suit was fitted with military precision. No jewelry. No crest. Just confidence and sharp-edged clarity. He carried only a leather folder and the weight of her cause.

The moment Renee crossed the threshold, Sylus inhaled—

—then froze.

Her scent hit him like heat under his skin. It wasn’t perfume. It was her. The clean edge of cold air before lightning. Blood. Smoke. Something wild curled beneath the elegance. And deep inside him, something ancient stirred.

His dragon uncoiled and whispered one word:

Mate.

Sylus stiffened. Not visibly. Not dramatically. But something in him snapped alert, sharp, hungry.

His heartbeat picked up. His fingers twitched. His throat went dry.

He stood — too quickly—a reaction he couldn’t rationalize.

Thareon’s voice brushed against his mind.

“Sylus?”

“Nothing,” Sylus answered swiftly, already tamping down the storm inside him. His father didn’t press.

Across the room, Renee’s gaze flicked to Sylus.

Just briefly.

Not startled. Not drawn.

Acknowledging.

Like someone glancing at someone they vaguely remember seeing once at a diplomatic dinner—no more, no less.

She didn’t slow. She didn’t speak.

She and Xavier walked to their seats and sat, in one smooth motion. Xavier placed the folder gently on the table.

Renee folded her hands in her lap.

She didn’t touch her chair like a seat — she occupied it like a throne.

Sylus sat back down carefully. His pulse was still pounding. His dragon prowled inside him, teeth bared in instinct.

But Renee? She radiated silence.

Not absence—pressure. Contained heat. The kind of silence that came before execution orders. She hadn’t said a word, yet the room had already shifted around her.