Chapter 5 The Stage Set For Ruin

• The ballroom was a gilded lie.
• Dripping with banners of both kingdoms—Holden’s black and silver hanging heavy beside Rosewood’s deep crimson and gold—everything about the scene screamed unity.
• But everyone present knew better.
• Espen stood at the top of the grand staircase, bathed in flickering candlelight, the crown on her head gleaming like a dare.
• She wore red. Blood-red silk that clung to her curves and dipped low enough to invite scandal, high enough to command respect. A slit split the gown up her right thigh, exposing the gleam of a jeweled dagger strapped against her leg. Decorative, of course.
• Probably.
• She descended slowly, each step measured, unfazed by the stares. She didn’t smile, didn’t bow. Just met each gaze like royalty should—without blinking.
• The musicians stopped as the heralds announced their entrance.
• “Their Royal Highnesses, Prince Mikko Holden… and Lady Kimberlee Ren.”
• Espen didn’t turn.
• Didn’t need to.
• She felt them the way one feels a storm on the back of the neck.
• Mikko entered with Kimberlee clinging to his arm like a claim. Her dress was obsidian silk, near sheer in the right lighting, laced so tightly it looked painted on. Her hair was twisted up with sapphires, her lips stained as red as blood.
• Kimberlee smiled like she’d won.
• Espen stepped into the crowd.
• She didn’t watch him.
• Didn’t need to.
• He’d be watching her.
• He always did.
• 🔥
• The ballroom was a blur of silk and deceit.
• Mikko’s jaw hurt from clenching. Kimberlee leaned in at every opportunity, whispering commentary he didn’t care about, running her nails up the inside of his arm like she owned him.
• He should’ve liked it.
• He usually did.
• But tonight, something grated.
• Something about the way she moved through the crowd.
• Espen.
• Unbothered. Untouched.
• A prince from Lysend—a golden-haired bastard with a too-bright smile—had found his way to her side. He bowed low. Took her hand.
• Kissed it.
• Mikko didn’t hear what Espen said in return, but it made the Lysend prince laugh.
• Then he leaned in.
• Too close.
• Too long.
• Kimberlee’s voice pierced through the music. “You’re glaring.”
• “I’m watching.”
• “Same thing,” she purred. “But you’re looking the wrong direction.”
• He tore his gaze from Espen just long enough to feel Kimberlee press into his side.
• “Let’s dance,” she said sweetly, loudly. Loud enough to be heard.
• He let her lead him to the floor.
• Espen didn’t look over.
• Not even once.
• But the prince at her side offered his hand, and she took it. Let herself be pulled onto the floor. Let herself laugh at something charming and pointless.
• And Mikko’s grip on Kimberlee’s waist tightened just a bit too hard.
• 🔥
• The Lysend prince was all honey and polish. He said all the right things. Complimented her crown, her wit, her poise. Asked about her favorite battles she hadn’t fought.
• Espen gave him a smile sharp enough to draw blood.
• “Tell me, Prince Thalen,” she asked as he spun her, “do you always flirt with married women?”
• “Only the ones whose husbands don’t deserve them.”
• “Mm. Flattery and gossip. You’ll fit in beautifully.”
• He dipped her low, and she let him.
• Just to see if anyone was watching.
• When she rose, she met Mikko’s eyes across the room.
• Just for a breath.
• Just enough to confirm what she already knew.
• He was seething.
• The song ended. Thalen bowed, brushed a kiss to her knuckles again, and offered, “If ever you’d like to defect, Lysend would welcome you.”
• She smiled. “If ever I’m in the mood for mediocre wine and mediocre men, I’ll consider it.”
• Thalen laughed, kissed her hand again, and left with grace.
• She turned on her heel—
• —and froze.
• Kimberlee stood in front of her.
• Eyes glassy with pleasure. Mouth curved into something cruel.
• She looked like a woman who’d just been worshipped.
• And wanted everyone to know it.
• “How’s your suitor?” Kimberlee asked sweetly. “I’ve heard Lysend princes are very… charming. And very open-minded.”
• Espen didn’t take the bait. “That’s good to know. Should I pass on your availability?”
• Kimberlee’s smile twitched. “Not necessary. I already have everything I want.”
• Espen stepped forward. Close enough to feel the tension. “Does he know you think that?” she asked, eyes darting to where Mikko now stood, frozen with a drink half-lifted to his mouth.
• Kimberlee’s lashes fluttered. “He knows I’m not afraid to be seen on his arm. In his bed.”
• Espen’s voice turned ice. “Funny. I’m not afraid to be in his mind.”
• She walked away before Kimberlee could answer.
• Didn’t look back.
• Didn’t need to.
• 🔥
• Later, when the crowd had thinned and the wine soured, Mikko found her alone on the terrace.
• She leaned against the balustrade, arms bare, hair swept back, lips still painted like sin.
• He said nothing.
• Just stood behind her.
• Watched her.
• Espen didn’t move.
• “I hope your date was satisfying,” she said finally. “He certainly tried.”
• Mikko’s voice came out rough. “Don’t flatter yourself.”
• She turned to him then.
• Eyes gleaming.
• “I don’t need to,” she said. “I have a crown. And apparently a kingdom that prefers me.”
• “Don’t push me.”
• “Why not?” She stepped closer. “You haven’t done anything yet.”
• “I’ll ruin you.”
• “You already tried.”
• He was breathing hard now. Close. Too close.
• “I hate you.”
• Her breath hitched.
• Then she leaned in and whispered, “Then fuck me. Get it over with.”
• He stared at her.
• Didn’t move.
• Didn’t breathe.
• And then turned and walked away.
• Not because he didn’t want her.
• But because he did.
• And it scared the hell out of him.
• 🔥
• Back in the ballroom, Kimberlee stood alone.
• Watching.
• Fuming.
• And in the rafters above, hidden by magic older than kingdoms, the shadow watched too.
• Its hunger was growing.
• Not for Espen’s blood.
• But for her awakening.
• And it was nearly time.