The coronation hall glittered with gold and emerald, nobles drifting like shadows over polished marble. Music swelled from the edges, fae chatter hummed like electricity, but none of it mattered when he saw her.

She stood near the dais, dark hair falling over her shoulders, but one single lock shone stark white — a strand taken from him, fused to her centuries ago, impossible to ignore. The curse pulsed faintly beneath her skin, visible only to those who knew how to look, and it tethered her to him in ways neither of them had forgotten.

Roiben froze at the edge of the hall. Silver hair falling like frost, jaw tight, eyes wide and pale. Time collapsed around him. Memories, long buried, rushed back — laughter, touches, promises. He hadn’t known they were related, not by blood, not by courtly law. The revelation now carried weight heavier than any crown.

She met his gaze, and a smirk curved her lips, dangerous and knowing. She liked chaos. She had always liked chaos. The curse, the centuries, the single white strand — all of it marked her, made her untouchable, and yet, for him, utterly magnetic.

Kaye lingered nearby, poised, elegant, but her eyes flickered with suspicion and unease. She sensed it, the pull of a bond older than the coronation itself, and the storm it threatened to unleash.

For a heartbeat, the crowd faded. Gold and marble, music and laughter, vanished into the periphery. There was only her, the curse, and the man she had once loved — or had never truly stopped loving.