The High Council Hall was a blinding spectacle of wealth and arcane power, a sprawling cavern of white marble illuminated by floating chandeliers of spun gold and crystallized sunlight. It was the social pinnacle of the year, a night where the elite of the magical society gathered to forge alliances

Elara did not remember how she escaped the Gala.

When her vision finally cleared, she was leaning heavily against the damp wooden door of a carriage, the rhythmic clopping of the horses’ hooves jarring her fragile bones with every step. She had handed the driver a fistful of gold and given him the

The morning sun filtered through the grand arched windows of the Thorne estate, casting long, mocking shadows across the marble floors. Kaelen Thorne marched down the corridor toward the guest wing, his jaw set in a hard, uncompromising line.

He had barely slept. The image of Elara at the Gala—sta