The icy wind bit at Alara's skin as she stumbled through the towering gates of the Night Court, her wrists bound in shimmering Fae chains that hummed with dark magic.
Shadows twisted along the stone walls, alive with whispers that seemed to laugh at her defiance. She lifted her chin, refusing to let the fear show, even as the chilling air seeped into her bones.
Ahead of her, the spires of the palace loomed, jagged and gray against the blood-red sky. It wasn't just a palace—it was a warning, a promise of what awaited her inside.
Somewhere within those walls was the man they called the King of Ice and Shadow, the monster she had been forced to marry. And if the stories were true, one touch from him could end her life.
She had only turned Twenty two this summer, never thought the life of the only daughter of the almighty king of human lands were to be sold off to a Fae lord. She was a treaty, a truce bridging between both the human and Fae kingdoms.
They ended the decades long wars and bloodshed by trading the daughter of the king of the great human kingdom to the Fae lord. And by that, once respected and prideful princess Alara turned nothing more than a joke to the Fae people.
"Aren't you a little too slow, princess?" One of the lord's knights sneered at her, nudging her lithe shoulder with his strong elbove, making her fly forward.
Alara sucked in a sharp breath, rolling her neck as she gazed up at the blood red sky, the sun about to dip down the ghostly mountains, the last rays, red and angry. Just like how she felt from within.
It was the lord who made the proposal. He was the one who asked her as his bride to end the war. And the anger that burns from her for that vicious lord for ruining her life was fierce.
She walked toward the castle with knights towering over her and observing her each motion. Their footsteps echoed through the eerie silence as she was led into the heart of the Night Court, the oppressive air thick with the scent of cold stone and magic
The path leading to the palace was carved from obsidian stone, smooth and shiny beige, and it stretched out before her like a smooth ribbon swallowed by the horizon. Along the sides of the road, jagged iron torches flickered with a sickly orange flame, casting long, dancing shadows that seemed to breathe and shift.
The light was unnatural—too cold, too sharp—and it made the already gloomy landscape feel even more alien. The palace itself rose in front of her, an architectural monstrosity of jagged white towers, arches that seemed to twist upward like claws, and windows that glowed faintly with an ominous light.
The walls, though majestic, were covered in creeping vines with alluring white flowers that were more like veins, pulsating with a life of their own. There was no warmth here, only a stifling coldness that sank deep into her bones.
Once they got near the enormous stairs leading to the entrance of the palace, Alara felt her heart dipping into her stomach with nervousness. When she climbed the very first step, she looked up to the huge castle touching the sky. Her breath hitched when she felt as if the castle was watching her with its invisible eyes. The windows high above, dark and hollow seemed to watch her every move. The energy around her drizzled with dark magic.
Once she reached the top, the magnificent doors opened on their own, revealing a hall stretched endlessly before her. The inside of the castle was equally breathtaking and eronimous as the outside. Maybe more imposing than the exterior.
Endless stone columns reached high into the vaulted ceiling, where chandeliers hung like frozen stars, casting cold light across the floor. The walls were lined with tapestries that seemed to shimmer with dark enchantments, each one depicting scenes of blood and war, battles fought by warriors long dead.
And at the end of the hall, on a raised throne of obsidian and iron, sat Kael—the King of Ice and Shadow.
His gaze met hers, cold and indifferent. But something about the way those amber orbs staring into her made her breath quiver and heart fasten. The magic around them swirled up in the air, her own magic searching out for his essence.
The man is breathtakingly handsome, his dark aura more alluring than threatening. For a moment she felt like a moth drawn to light, yearning for his dark touch.
His presence filled the room, dark and suffocating, as though the air itself was his to command. The flickering torch light reflected off his amber eyes, the only warmth in the entire room, but it was a warmth that felt more like a warning than a comfort.
"Welcome to the Night Court, my princess." The Fae lord Kael, her soon to be husband's velvety deep voice made an unknown warmth spread to her entire being— A feeling so unfamiliar overtaking Alara.
This was her new reality. The Night Court. The King. The curse. And her place among them—whether she liked it or not. She belonged here now.