The tension in the vampire court coiled like a serpent. Whispers festered in the corners as nobles exchanged glances, debating whether to fear or challenge the girl who had just cracked the obsidian floor without lifting a finger. Sophia stood tall beside Lucian, her heart beating wildly beneath her ribs, but her expression remained steel.
Miravelle's red gaze remained fixed on Sophia, intrigued now more than insulted. "It seems the goddess blood sings truer than we believed," she murmured. "But power alone does not earn loyalty. This court thrives on blood, legacy… and fear."
Sophia tilted her head slightly. "Then you'll have all three."
Lucian smirked at her side. "The girl you mocked just bent stone and shadow. Imagine what she'll do once her wings fully bloom."
A murmuring ripple surged through the council chamber. Some nobles began whispering among themselves, no longer looking at Sophia like a threat to be rid of—but a force to be aligned with.
Selene stepped forward, her cloak brushing the polished floor. "Sophia needs rest. The journey through the fae lands accelerated her transformation. She'll need grounding spells to soothe the pain of her wings as they tear through skin, and food that doesn't taste like ash."
Miravelle gave a regal nod. "Fine. She will be given chambers. But she is not to leave them without escort."
Lucian's eyes darkened. "She goes where I go. I will not cage her here."
"You misunderstand, my prince." Miravelle's voice lowered. "We don't fear you anymore. We fear what she could become. Her presence has already disturbed the sacred tree roots beneath the palace. The ancient magics stir. You brought her here… now you must control her."
Sophia stepped forward, unbothered. "I'm not here to be controlled. I'm here to understand what I am. And if you're afraid of me now—just wait."
Lucian touched her wrist gently. "Enough for today. Let's not burn the palace down yet."
Reluctantly, Sophia allowed herself to be led from the court chamber, though her golden eyes lingered over the nobles who dared to scoff behind raised goblets. She made silent promises to remember every face.
Their temporary chambers were high in the eastern spire, far from the heart of courtly politics. The walls were lined with midnight stone, veined in red-gold, and the air felt ancient with memories. Sophia collapsed onto the bed, her back seizing with another bolt of pain. She bit her lip hard, suppressing a scream.
Lucian was at her side in an instant. "It's your wings," he murmured, pulling off her cloak and placing his hand gently against the center of her back. "They're pushing through the skin faster than I expected. Your body's changing too fast."
She winced. "It feels like fire under my skin."
"It is fire," Selene said, stepping in with a vial of moon-oil and a jar of cooling balm. "Fae with goddess blood don't grow wings—they birth them through light and agony."
Sophia whimpered as the oil touched her back, but Selene's touch was skilled, her chanting soft and melodic.
Lucian watched helplessly. He wanted nothing more than to cradle her against him, to bite through the pain with kisses and take her mind far from suffering—but he couldn't. Not yet. Not while she was still transforming.
"I should've taken her straight to the wolf kingdom," he muttered.
"No," Selene said firmly. "The land chose this path. You needed to see how the court would respond. And she needed to show them she's not some quiet consort."
Sophia's breathing slowed as the pain dulled slightly. Her body trembled with exhaustion, and her hair—longer than ever—fanned across the bed like molten silk.
Lucian brushed it aside, voice low. "I'm not avoiding you because I don't want you, Sophia."
Her golden eyes fluttered open. "Then why?"
"Because the next time I touch you…" His eyes blazed crimson, voice thick with restraint. "There won't be a next time. I'll claim you completely. And I want you to want it, not just crave it."
Her lips parted, but her exhaustion overtook her, and she slipped into unconsciousness.
Lucian stayed by her side through the night.
Outside, the shadows moved with unrest. The nobles of the court had seen what she could do—and not all of them intended to wait patiently for her wings to bloom.