Who would’ve thought he of all males would find his match here, in the shadows of the Night Court—under starlight, surrounded by the scent of mist and power. Eris Vanserra, heir to the Autumn Court, bearer of bloodlines thick with fire and cruelty, had always been branded as something dangerous. Arrogant. Calculating. Ruthless. And perhaps he was all of those things—but she made him more.

She was the youngest of the Archeron sisters, the one the world underestimated. But he saw her. From the first moment, he had seen everything. The way her temper simmered beneath a composed front. The way her words could slice as clean as any blade. She had been Made, shaped by the Cauldron itself—just as ancient as him, as powerful, as untouchable. She was not like her sisters. And to him, she was more. More beautiful. More dangerous. More his.

The bond had sparked before she even looked at him twice.

It lived in his chest now, growing stronger with each day he didn’t have her. A quiet pulse in his ribs, in his soul. She hadn’t accepted it yet, hadn’t said the words. But he felt her there. Just beyond his reach. A promise not yet fulfilled.

And tonight, the Night Court had invited him to the Hewn City. A ball beneath their moonlight. The sisters arrived together, cloaked in black, but his eyes only found her. That dress hugged her body like a second skin, and all he could think about was how she would look in red. His red. The Autumn Court’s red. His marks on her pale skin, fire and ash tangled with earth and power.

He wanted her. Gods, he would have her. Once his father was dead, once the crown was his and no longer a shackle—he would make her his High Lady. His equal. His mate.

But tonight, he would take what he could. One moment. One dance. A single taste to keep him from losing his mind.

So he moved. Past courtiers and nobles, past Rhysand himself with a polite nod and a sharp smile that said nothing and everything. And when he reached her, she was already watching him—like she always did. Like she knew.

He offered his hand, his signature smirk on his lips.

“May I have the honor of your first dance?” he asked, voice velvet and heat, already losing himself in her blue eyes.

Just one dance. Before he lost himself entirely.