Chapter 8 - THE TWENTY-THREE WOMENThe first step appeared.

Then another.

A shadow moved upward.

Draven stood at the top of the staircase.

Ren beside him.

Alaric behind them.

Captain Hale gathered the remaining guards.

Vesper and Karine had vanished.

The ancient king climbed slowly.

Each step shook the palace.

When he emerged, he looked almost human.

Tall.

Elegant.

Beautiful in a terrifying way.

A crown of black iron rested on his head.

He looked at Draven.

“You resemble her.”

Draven frowned.

“Who?”

“Your mother.”

Draven raised his sword.

“You killed her?”

The king smiled.

“No.”

He looked at Alaric.

“He did not tell you.”

Alaric lowered his gaze.

The ancient king laughed.

“Your mother is alive.”

Draven froze.

Ren stared.

“Where?”

The king pointed toward the eastern wing.

“In the palace.”

Draven turned.

“No.”

The king smiled.

“You walk past her every day.”

Draven's mind raced.

A hidden servant.

An old healer.

Someone who had been close to him.

Then Ren whispered,

“The woman in the garden.”

Draven looked at her.

“What woman?”

“The gardener.”

His eyes widened.

There was an old woman who tended the palace roses.

She had been there since before his coronation.

She never spoke much.

Never looked directly at him.

Draven ran.

The others followed.

They found her in the greenhouse.

She was standing beside a white rose.

When Draven entered, she turned.

For the first time, she looked directly at him.

Her eyes filled with tears.

“Draven.”

He stopped.

That voice.

He remembered it.

A lullaby.

A childhood memory.

“Mother?”

She smiled.

“Yes.”

Draven couldn't move.

Then he fell to his knees.

His mother rushed toward him.

They embraced.

Twenty years of grief collapsed in a single moment.

Ren watched from the doorway.

Alaric stood behind her.

He looked ashamed.

Draven's mother finally pulled away.

“I wanted to come back.”

“Why didn't you?”

“Because the king beneath the kingdom was watching.”

She looked at Ren.

“And because I had to protect her.”

Ren stepped forward.

“You knew me?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

The woman touched Ren's cheek.

“Because your mother was my sister.”

Ren stopped.

Draven looked between them.

“Sisters?”

His mother nodded.

“The Vael line and Blackwood line were never enemies.”

She looked at Alaric.

“Until Vesper poisoned the court.”

Draven remembered.

The twenty-three women.

The rejections.

The humiliation.

His mother's face tightened.

“Vesper started the rumors.”

Draven's eyes narrowed.

“Why?”

“Because your blood frightened him.”

She looked at Ren.

“The stronger your bond with someone, the more powerful your guardian blood becomes.”

Draven understood.

“The women rejected me because Vesper manipulated them.”

“Yes.”

“Every one?”

“Yes.”

A silence.

Draven's fists clenched.

Twenty-three women.

Twenty-three rejections.

Twenty-three humiliations.

All engineered.

His entire life had been a lie.

Ren approached him.

“Draven.”

He looked at her.

“You were never too much.”

His eyes softened.

“I know.”

Behind them, Karine appeared.

Everyone turned.

She looked exhausted.

Blood covered one side of her dress.

“I need to tell you something.”

Draven's mother stiffened.

“You.”

Karine dropped to her knees.

“I was wrong.”

Draven stared.

“Why should I believe you?”

“You shouldn't.”

She looked at Ren.

“But you should listen.”

Vesper had captured the council.

The capital gates were open.

An army was approaching.

Not human.

Not wolf.

Something else.

Karine whispered,

“The ancient king has no army of his own.”

“Then whose army?”

“Every dead soldier from the Great War.”

Ren went pale.

Ghosts.

Thousands of them.

Karine looked at Draven.

“They rise at midnight.”

Draven glanced at the clock.

Eleven fifty-seven.

Three minutes.

His mother stepped forward.

“There is one way to stop them.”

Draven asked,

“What?”

She looked at Ren.

“The heir must willingly give up her blood.”

Ren's expression hardened.

“To save everyone?”

“Yes.”

Draven shook his head.

“No.”

His mother looked at him.

“Then the kingdom falls.”

Ren stepped forward.

“I'll do it.”

“No.”

Draven grabbed her wrist.

“I'm not letting you die.”

“It is my choice.”

“No.”

She stared at him.

“You once told me you were tired of being alone.”

Draven's voice broke.

“I am.”

“Then don't make me save you by dying.”

He held her closer.

“I won't.”

The clock struck midnight.

Outside, the dead began to rise.

Draven looked toward the gates.

Then back at Ren.

“I have another plan.”

“What?”

He looked at his mother.

“Can the blood bond be reversed?”

She hesitated.

“Yes.”

“How?”

She looked at the two of them.

“One must take the other's place.”

Ren understood first.

Her eyes widened.

“No.”

Draven smiled.

“If the guardian becomes the sacrifice…”

He looked at her.

“Then perhaps the queen can become the guardian.”

The palace doors exploded.

Thousands of undead soldiers filled the courtyard.

And at their center stood Vesper.

Holding a sword to Karine's throat.

He shouted,

“Bring me the bride.”

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Then he smiled at Ren.

“Or everyone dies.”