Chapter 7: Be His Guest

Adrenaline burned through my veins, sharp and metallic, tasting like copper and panic. I crashed through the underbrush, the skeletal branches of the Fortundra outskirts clawing at my skin and snagging my tunic as if the forest itself were trying to hold me back for him. My lungs screamed for air, each breath a jagged blade in my chest, driven by a single, desperate thought: get away. The woods were a chaotic blur of shifting shadows and silver moonlight, a labyrinth I didn't know how to navigate. Then, the sound hit me—the rhythmic, heavy crunch of boots on dry leaves. He wasn't running; he was stalking. And he was right behind me.

I pivoted, looking for a hollow log or a dense thicket to vanish into, but the world suddenly tilted on its axis.

Gravity vanished. A violent, invisible tether snapped around my waist, and I was hoisted five feet into the air. My limbs locked up instantly, encased in an unseen pressure that felt like being frozen in a block of ice. A strangled gasp escaped me as the force rotated me mid-air, forcing me to face my pursuer.

Zion stood below, framed by the gnarled roots of an ancient oak. His right arm was extended, his leather-gloved fingers curled slightly as if he were holding my very soul in the center of his palm. He looked like a dark god carved from the night itself.

The finality of it hit me like a physical blow, knocking what little wind I had left from my lungs. I was going to die at the hands of a stranger, a king of shadows, in a forest that didn't even know my name. At least Bran is safe with Karlos, I thought, a single hot tear escaping and tracing a path through the dirt on my cheek. Let them be the ones who don't have to see this. Let them get away.

"Who are you?" The voice was low thunder—smooth, deep, and dangerously melodic. It had a rhythmic quality that made my skin crawl and my pulse spike in my throat.

"If you're going to kill me, do it now!" I spat, glaring down at him from my invisible tether, masking my terror with a snarl. "Stop playing with your food and just swing the sword."

Zion’s dark brow arched, a flicker of amusement crossing his rugged features. "I’m not going to kill you. I’m not a butcher."

"No?" I snorted, though the sound was shaky. "Is 'hostage-taker' the preferred title on your royal resume?"

"Careful," he scoffed, his eyes darkening as a flicker of genuine irritation crossed his face. He closed the distance between us, standing directly beneath my floating form. "You trespassed on my lands, infiltrated my inner sanctum, and lied to my men. In Fortundra, that usually earns a traitor more than a polite conversation."

"I was..." The words died in my throat. My mouth felt like it was full of ash and the bitter tang of failure.

"You were?" he prompted, his gaze unyielding.

"Scared!" I shouted, the honesty tearing out of me because I had nothing else left to fight with. "I was scared and lost, and I didn't know who to trust."

He echoed the words back to me, his tone skeptical, mocking the tremor in my voice with a cruel grace. "Scared and lost. A common girl, wandering into the most heavily guarded fortress in the North by accident?"

"I'm new here," I said, trying to steady my breathing and find my center. "I’ve heard the stories about the King of Fortundra. Anyone with half a brain would be running."

He lowered me slowly, the invisible pressure receding like a tide. My boots hit the dirt with a soft thud, but the weight of his gaze stayed heavy on me, pinning me to the spot more effectively than his magic ever could. I needed to pivot. I needed to be a player in this game, not just another victim of his power.

"I'm sorry I lied," I said, softening my expression into a calculated, vulnerable frown. I looked down at my hands, playing the part of the wayward traveler.

"You are an interesting girl, Diana," he murmured, stepping into my personal space until I could feel the heat radiating from him. He didn't just look at me; he studied me, his ink-dark eyes searching for the cracks in my armor, looking for the truth behind the mask.

"And you’re an interesting man," I countered, refusing to back away. I stepped closer instead, closing the gap until I could smell the scent of woodsmoke, pine, and something cold and metallic on his heavy fur coat.

"I apologize if my telekinesis startled you," he said, though his voice held the silkiness of a predator who wasn't sorry at all.

"So that's what it is?" I feigned wide-eyed curiosity, even as my heart hammered against my ribs. "A rare gift. I thought it was only a myth."

"Very few possess it," he said, his voice dropping an octave as we stood barely an inch apart. I could see the slight curve of his hawk-like nose and the intensity of his brooding stare. "Though rumors say the world is waking up. There are others with... different talents. More dangerous ones."

I nodded slowly, my mind racing through a dozen different escape plans. I could end this now. I could use my own kinetic pulse—that humming heat beneath my skin—to throw him back into a tree, to break his hold and likely his ribs. But I needed more than an escape; I needed to know what he knew. I needed to know if he was the monster the stories claimed.

"The rumors are true," I whispered, leaning in as if sharing a deadly secret. "I know... because I have it, too."

His eyes widened slightly—a hit. I saw the minute shift in his pupils, the sudden spark of genuine interest that replaced his cool detachment. I had his curiosity. Now I just had to survive the consequences of i

"Then you shouldn't be wandering the woods like a stray, risking your life among common soldiers," Zion said, his expression shifting into a mask of terrifying, regal charm. He reached out, his gloved hand hovering just inches from my face. "You should be a guest."

"A guest?" I repeated, the word tasting like a trap.

"At my castle. For a proper dinner, a warm fire, and a room for the night. We have much to discuss, you and

A chill that had nothing to do with the night wind raced down my spine. A 'guest' in a gilded cage is still a prisoner, and I knew that once those heavy oak doors closed behind me, I might never see the sun again. He was luring me in with silk ribbons and the promise of kinship, and I was about to let him.

"What do you say, Diana?" he whispered, leaning in until his breath ghosted over my lips.

I forced the widest, most convincing smile I had ever performed, ignoring the scream of my instincts. "I accept."