Elara's POV
I wake up screaming.
Strong hands pin my shoulders down. Hold her still! Someone shouts.
My eyes fly open. I'm lying on cold stone, and faces hover above me palace servants in gray uniforms, their expressions worried and scared.
Where am I? I gasp, trying to sit up.
The preparation chamber, miss. An older woman with kind eyes gently pushes me back down. You fainted during transport. The Selection ceremony begins in ten minutes.
Ten minutes.
My heart slams against my ribs. No, please, I can't
Every girl says that. Another servant appears with a silver dress. But the crown has already called to you. There's no point fighting it now.
They dress me like I'm a doll, pulling off my nightgown and forcing me into the ceremonial dress. It's beautiful and terrible silver fabric that shimmers like moonlight, but it feels like a funeral shroud.
The kind woman braids my hair while others paint my face. I'm sorry, dear, she whispers. For what it's worth, I hope you're strong enough to survive this.
Before I can ask what she means, guards appear at the door.
Time, one announces.
They march me down a long hallway. With every step, that pulling sensation in my chest grows stronger. The invisible rope dragging me toward something I can't see.
Toward him.
We reach massive double doors. Through them, I hear voices hundreds of people talking, laughing, like this is some kind of party instead of a death sentence.
The doors swing open.
The throne room is enormous, filled with nobles in expensive clothes. Blue torches line the walls, casting everything in cold, eerie light. At the far end of the room, twenty girls stand in a line. They're all wearing silver dresses like mine, all looking terrified.
My sister Thalia is here, dressed in purple silk, standing beside Lord Marcus. When she sees me, she smiles and waves like we're friends.
I want to throw up.
The guards push me forward, adding me to the line of girls. The girl next to me is crying silently, tears running down her face.
Have you heard the rumors? She whispers. The last girl who was chosen she screamed for three days straight before she died.
Quiet! A priest in black robes steps forward, holding a staff that glows with dark magic. He's ancient, his face like wrinkled leather.
But I barely notice him.
Because I'm staring at the throne.
It's made of black stone that seems to swallow light, covered in carvings of screaming faces. And sitting on it, perfectly still, is King Cassius Night borne.
He's younger than I expected maybe twenty nine or thirty. And devastatingly handsome in a way that makes my breath catch. Dark hair, sharp features, powerful build.
But his eyes are what terrify me.
They're empty. Completely, utterly empty, like looking into the eyes of a corpse.
This is the Butcher King. The man who burned entire villages. The monster who kills without mercy.
And I'm about to be chained to him forever.
Above his head floats the crown circle of black metal covered in strange symbols that pulse with red light. It looks alive, hungry.
The priest raises his staff. The Crown Selection will now begin!
The crowd goes silent.
Twenty daughters of noble houses stand before us, the priest continues. The ancient crown will choose one to be bound to His Majesty King Cassius. The chosen girl will give her magic, her life force, her very soul to strengthen our king. It is the greatest honor in the kingdom.
It's a death sentence, the crying girl beside me whispers.
The priest glares at her, then turns to the crown. Begin the selection!
The crown rises higher, floating above the king's head. Then it starts to move, drifting toward our line.
Every girl it passes sags with relief. Please not me, their faces say. Please let it be someone else.
The crown stops in front of a girl at the far end. She's beautiful, with golden hair and perfect features. She closes her eyes, trembling.
The crown hovers for a moment.
Then moves on.
It goes down the line, stopping at each girl, considering them. Some it dismisses immediately. Others it circles, like it's testing them.
My turn is coming. The pulling in my chest is so strong now it hurts, like something is trying to rip out of my ribcage.
The crown reaches me.
It stops.
The entire room holds its breath.
I look up at it, and I swear the symbols on the black metal are writhing, moving like living things. Red light pulses brighter, brighter.
Then the crown slams down onto my forehead.
Ice explodes through my skull. I scream as pain tears through every nerve in my body. It feels like my soul is being ripped out, stretched, and connected to something else.
To someone else.
Invisible chains wrap around my heart, my mind, binding me to the man on the throne. I feel him suddenly feel his presence in my head like a dark shadow.
And I know, with absolute certainty, that I'll never be free again.
The pain is so intense I can't breathe. I fall to my knees, still screaming, clutching at the crown. But it won't come off. It's burning itself into my skin, into my bones.
The crown has chosen! The priest shouts over my screams.
The crowd erupts in cheers. They're celebrating while I'm dying.
Through the agony, I manage to open my eyes. King Cassius is staring at me from his throne, and for just one second, his empty expression cracks.
I see pain in his eyes. And something that looks like grief.
Then his face goes blank again, cold as stone.
The crown's power surges one final time, and I feel the bond snap into place an unbreakable chain connecting me to the king.
The pain stops.
I collapse onto the cold floor, gasping for air. My whole body is shaking. I can still feel him in my head, a dark presence I can't escape.
Guards lift me to my feet. My legs won't hold me, so they half carry me toward the throne.
Toward him.
King Cassius stands as I approach. Up close, he's even more terrifying tall and powerful, with those dead eyes that see right through me.
The priest appears beside us. The binding is complete. Elara Ash win, you are now Crown Bound to His Majesty. Your magic, your life, belongs to the king until your death.
Until my death.
Which won't be long now.
The king reaches out and takes my hand. His touch is ice cold.
Welcome to your new life, he says, his voice as empty as his eyes.
The crowd cheers again. Somewhere in the audience, I hear Thalia laughing.
King Cassius pulls me closer, and I feel the bond between us pulse with dark energy. He leans down, his lips close to my ear.
I expect him to say something cruel. Something about owning me now.
Instead, he whispers four words that make my blood run cold:
I'm so sorry, Elara.
Then he straightens, his expression going blank again. He turns to address the crowd, still holding my hand in that iron grip.
But I can barely hear what he's saying.
Because inside my head, through the bond connecting us, I hear another voice. His voice, desperate and terrified:
Run. While you still can. Before it's too late. Before the crown makes me The voice cuts off abruptly, like someone slammed a door shut.
King Cassius's hand tightens on mine, almost painfully. His eyes are empty again.
But I heard him. Through the bond, I heard his real voice.
And he's just as trapped as I am.