The heavy gilded doors of the banquet hall shattered.
Margo stumbled into the light, her silver gown shredded, her regal crown lopsided on her tangled hair. She looked like a ghost that had refused to cross over. Her eyes, once bright with the arrogance of a favored sister, were now bloodshot and wild, fixed entirely on the man sitting at my right hand.
"Julian!" she shrieked, her voice a jagged glass shard. "Look at you! Crawling at her feet like a beaten cur! You were supposed to be my King! You swore the Moon-Bond was ours!"
Julian didn't even flinch. He didn't stand. He merely leaned back in his chair, his hand sliding across the table to cover mine, his fingers tracing the black veins on my skin with a sickening, erotic devotion.
"The Moon-Bond was a leash, Margo," Julian said, his voice cold and devoid of the warmth he once used to deceive me. "And you were the one holding it. I've found a new master now. One who doesn't need to lie to keep me."
Margo's face contorted into a mask of pure, unadulterated venom. She lunged forward, her claws extending, not to strike me, but to tear the hand that Julian held.
"You're obsessed!" she screamed, her scent of soured lilies filling the air. "She's a monster, Julian! Look at her skin! She's a walking corpse filled with smoke! How can you touch her? How can you desire her after what we had?"
Silas let out a low, predatory growl, his hand moving toward the obsidian dagger at his hip. "Careful, little wolf. The Queen is feeling merciful tonight, but the King of the North is not."
I raised a hand, silencing Silas. I looked at my sister, the girl who had stolen my mate and cheered at my exile.
"Let her speak, Silas," I whispered, my voice echoing with the triple-tone of the Void. "I want to hear the sound of a dying ego."
Margo turned her fury on me, her eyes brimming with tears of jealous rage. "You think you've won, Elara? You think because you have two Alphas in your bed, you're special? You're a parasite! You used the Void to trick them! Julian doesn't love you, he's just addicted to the dark! He'll wake up, and when he does, he'll remember that I am the one who is whole!"
Julian stood up then, his chair screeching against the marble floor. He walked toward Margo with a slow, terrifying grace. He didn't shift. He didn't need to. The sheer weight of his powerful aura, gifted by my touch, made Margo stumble back.
"Whole?" Julian echoed, stopping inches from her face. He reached out, his fingers catching a lock of her hair, twisting it until she gasped. "You were never whole, Margo. You were a placeholder. A shallow reflection of the power Elara was born with. I worshipped the sun because I was afraid of the dark, but now..."
He leaned down, his lips brushing Margo's ear, but his eyes stayed locked on mine.
"...now I know that the dark is the only thing that can truly satisfy an Alpha."
He didn't hit her. He did something worse. He reached into the "Mate-Bond" that still flickered between them, the thin, pathetic thread and he snapped it.
Margo let out a choked, guttural scream, collapsing to her knees as the psychic backlash hit her. The rejection I had felt in the Neutral Zone was now hers, but amplified by the shadow-taint Julian carried.
"Get her out of my sight," Julian commanded, not even looking at her as she sobbed on the floor.
Two Shadow-Caste warriors stepped forward, grabbing Margo by the arms. She didn't fight them. She just stared at Julian, her face a mask of total, agonizing heartbreak.
"He's mine..." she whimpered. "He was supposed to be mine..."
"Nothing is yours anymore, Margo," I said, standing from the throne. My shadow-gown flowed toward her like spilled ink, the Antlered King peering through my eyes. "Not the pack. Not the Alphas. And certainly not the man who would burn the world just to hear me whisper his name."
Julian turned back to the table, his chest heaving, his amber eyes dark with a desperate, carnal need. He walked back to me, dropping to his knees between my legs as I sat back on the throne. Silas stepped up behind me, his hands sliding over my shoulders, his mouth finding the sensitive skin of my neck.
"She's gone," Julian whispered, his head resting against my lap. "There is no one left, Elara. Only us. Only the Trinity."
I looked at the closed doors, then down at the two Alphas who were now irrevocably bound to my shadow. The jealousy of a sister was a small thing compared to the hunger of a god.
"Then let the world watch," I said, the violet light in the hall intensifying. "And let them learn the price of touching what belongs to the Queen."
The coronation night didn't require a priest; it required a blood-oath.
The Sun-Palace sat atop the highest peak of Oakhaven, its gold leaf now tarnished to a bruised violet under the influence of my presence. Outside, the world was quiet, but inside the royal bedchamber, the air was thick enough to choke a mortal. It smelled of ozone, crushed lilies, and the dark, musky heat of two Alphas who had finally stopped fighting each other long enough to worship the same altar.
I stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows, my silhouette a jagged tear in the moonlight. I wasn't wearing the heavy velvet of a Queen. I wore nothing but the shadows themselves, weaving over my skin in a translucent, shifting lace that highlighted every black vein and violet spark.
"She's thinking of the Margo," Silas rumbled from the shadows behind me.
He stepped into the light, his massive frame naked and glowing with a primal, predatory energy. He wrapped his arms around my waist, his chest a wall of scorching heat against my back. He buried his face in the crook of my neck, his teeth grazing the place where my pulse hammered.
"I'm thinking of how she looked back at me," I whispered, leaning back into him. "The way Margo looked when she realized that even her memories of Julian belong to me now."
Julian stood from the bath-chamber, his skin damp and shimmering with that eerie, silver solar-glow. He didn't look like the arrogant prince who had rejected me anymore. He looked like a man who had stared into the sun and found it lacking compared to the darkness of my eyes.
He walked toward us, his gaze fixed on where Silas's dark hands gripped my hips. There was no jealousy left, only a frantic, competitive need to be the one who made me scream.
"She doesn't need to think of Margo," Julian said, his voice a low, melodic rasp. He stopped in front of me, his hand sliding up my thigh, parting the shadow-lace. "Margo is a ghost. I am the flesh and I am starving, Elara."