The lake was frozen solid beneath their boots.

Veins of ice fractured the surface, splintering light like shattered glass. Cold gnawed at her bones, wind howling through the trees like something ancient and angry. They were close. She could feel it in the tension—the final breath before a blade sank deep.

Feyre gasped, one arm around Lucien, who limped badly. The hounds were too far to hear—but not far enough.

Then the forest stilled.

A soundless pause.

Before the shadows erupted.

They came in red and gold, seven of them from the ridge. The Vanserra brothers. Eris at the center.

She’d never seen him before. Only whispers carved into bark, stories muttered in servant halls like prayers. Eris Vanserra, the fire-hearted snake, heir to Autumn’s crown of ash.

He looked amused.

Feyre didn’t scream before Eris had her—fist in her hair, yanking her back against him. Lucien lunged—one brother knocked him down hard.

She moved without thinking.

“Take me instead!” she shouted. “For their freedom—I’m just a servant!”

Silence.

Eris turned, slow and deliberate.

One of his brothers had her pinned. She hadn’t seen him move.

Feyre shouted her name. She barely heard it over the blood roaring in her ears.

Eris’s golden eyes swept over her. “You speak boldly for a servant,” he said, voice silk over coals. “Do you always bargain with your body? Or is today special?”

“I’m the only one you need,” she said, chin high despite the bruising grip. “They’re more valuable. I’m no one.”

Lucien groaned. “Don’t—please—don’t do this.”

She ignored him.

Eris stepped forward. The crunch of his boots echoed like a countdown. He stopped close—too close. Fire magic licked off him like a second skin.

“I should gut you,” he said softly. “For speaking to me like that.”

The wind whipped her hair. She didn’t flinch. “You said should. Not will.”

He smiled.

Gods help her, it was beautiful.

Cruel. Elegant. Terrible.

“A bond,” he murmured. “You want me to swear I’ll release them if you come willingly.”

She nodded once.

He tilted his head. “And if I lie?”

“Then you’d be proving me right.”

Silence.

Then he slid a hand around her waist, dragging her flush against him.

She tensed—but held his gaze.

“You’ll return with me,” Eris said, low and intimate. “Serve in my court. Stay where I tell you. Eat when I allow. Sleep under my roof.”

“And your bed?” she snapped.

That smile again. Colder. “Only if you beg, little fox.”

She didn’t answer.

Couldn’t.

Because something buried deep inside wasn’t recoiling.

It was curious.

His magic flickered—flame brushing silk. His thumb grazed her hip.

He turned to Feyre. “You’re free.”

Feyre hesitated. “No—she—”

“GO!” she shouted, voice cracking.

Lucien dragged Feyre back, even as she fought. “We’ll come back for you,” he swore.

Eris watched them go without blinking.

Then waved his brother off her.

She didn’t run.

Didn’t dare.

He turned to her fully. One hand still on her hip, his face calm—too calm.

“You’ll come with me,” he said. “At my side. A bold little bargain. Are you always so reckless?”

“Only when it’s worth the cost.”

He laughed. Warm, twisted at the edges.

“You might make a courtier yet,” Eris murmured, stepping closer. “Or a corpse. We’ll see which comes first.”

Then, with fire curling around them, he vanished—taking her with him.