The sigil didn’t fade.
It pulsed—red and silver—etched in a spiral of frost and cinder that made my skin prickle and the hairs on Kael’s arm rise where they wrapped around my waist.
The Blood Court.
The very name tasted like iron on my tongue. Ancient. Ruthless. Forgotten by many… but never erased. They were the first rulers of shadow and blood, long before Emberlaith’s time, long before witches and wolves made peace. They were the ones who believed power wasn’t inherited—it was taken. Ripped from flesh and bone and soul. A court that vanished from history after sealing their sins behind a thousand oaths.
But somehow, they knew I still lived.
“They marked you,” Kael said softly, eyes locked on the sigil as if it might rise and speak. “This isn’t a threat. It’s a summons.”
“They want
