The Obsidian Palace swallowed light.
I felt it the moment we crossed the threshold—the warmth of Solaris fading, replaced by something older, colder, hungrier. Dorian's hand tightened on mine. Through the bond, his fear pulsed like a second heartbeat.
"We don't have to do this," I whispered.
"Yes, we do."
"We could turn around. Go back to the Pass. Never look back."
"And spend our lives running?" He shook his head. "I've been running my whole life. From my father. From his disappointment. From the truth that I was never good enough." He met my eyes. "I'm done running."
I kissed him. Quick. Fierce. "Then let's go face your monster."
"He's not a monster. He's just... broken."
"Aren't we all?"
The Shadow Court was a circle of darkness.
Nobles in silver and black sat in tiered seats, their shadows writhing around them like living things. At the center, on a throne of obsidian and bone, sat Lord Casian Ashford.
Dorian's father.
He was handsome in the way a blade was handsome—cold, sharp, designed to cut. His silver-streaked hair matched his son's. His eyes did not.
"So," Casian said. "The prodigal son returns."
"Father."
"With company." Casian's gaze shifted to me. "An Ember-Knight. In my hall. Under my moons."
"The Crystal bonded us." Dorian's voice was steady, but I felt him trembling. "You know this."
"I know what the messengers reported. I know my son—my reckless, emotional, disappointing son—claims to be bound to an enemy." Casian rose. "I know he expects me to accept this... abomination."
"It's not an abomination." Dorian stepped forward. "It's the most real thing I've ever felt."
"Feelings." Casian's lip curled. "Always feelings with you. Just like your mother."
The words hit like a physical blow. Through the bond, Dorian's pain flooded me—sharp and old and bottomless.
"Don't," I said. My voice cut through the chamber. "Don't you dare speak of her like that."
Casian's eyes snapped to me. "The little flame speaks."
"Your son is not a disappointment. He's not reckless. He's not too much." I stepped in front of Dorian, blocking him from his father's gaze. "He's the bravest person I know. He feels everything because he has a heart large enough to hold it all. He uses humor to hide pain because the people who should have protected him have spent twenty-two years tearing him down."
Silence.
"You," I continued, "have blamed a child for something no one could control. You've let grief turn you cruel. You've pushed away the only family you have left." My Ember flickered. "I don't know if you can change. I don't know if you want to. But I know this: Dorian is worth loving. He always has been. You were just too blind to see it."
The chamber was utterly still.
Casian stared at me. For a long moment, his cold mask held.
Then, slowly, something cracked.
"You love him," he said.
"With everything I am."
"And you would stand before this court, before me, before all of Umbra, and declare it?"
"I would stand before the world and declare it."
Casian looked at Dorian. Really looked, perhaps for the first time in years. His son stood tall, shadows wrapped protectively around us both, his hand gripping mine like I was the only solid thing in a shifting world.
"She has fire," Casian said quietly.
"Yes," Dorian said. "She does."
"She's also terrifying."
"Also yes."
A ghost of a smile touched Casian's lips. Gone so fast I almost missed it.
"The court will deliberate," he announced. "Until then, the bonded ones will remain in the palace as... guests." He paused. "See that they have comfortable quarters. And someone bring them food. They look half-starved."
It wasn't acceptance.
It wasn't even close.
But as we were led from the chamber, Dorian's hand shook in mine. I squeezed gently.
"That was terrifying," he whispered.
"I know."
"You called my father blind to his face."
"I noticed."
"You're insane."
"Probably."
He stopped in the middle of the corridor, pulling me into an alcove. His eyes were bright—with tears he wouldn't let fall, with emotions he couldn't hide.
"No one has ever stood up for me like that," he said. "No one."
I reached up and touched his face. "Then no one has ever known you. Not really."
He kissed me then—fierce and desperate and full of everything he couldn't say. I held him through it, took it all, gave back warmth.
When we broke apart, he was smiling. A real smile, through the tears he finally let fall.
"I love you," he said.
"I love you too." I wiped his tears with my thumb. "Now let's go see what passes for comfortable in this haunted palace."
He laughed. "It's not that haunted."
"The shadows literally move on their own."
"Those are just the servants."
"That's worse, Dorian."
"Probably."
He took my hand, and we walked together into the silver darkness.