Chapter 57 The Prince's Offer
ARIA'S POV
"This is a terrible idea," Kieran hissed as we approached Prince Dante's private chambers.
"You have a better one?" I shot back.
The messenger had led us through secret passages to avoid Morgana's patrols. Now we stood before ornate doors carved with ash trees, and I was about to walk into a meeting with Sebastian's political rival. The vampire who wanted his throne.
"If this is a trap—" Elena started.
"Then at least I tried." I pushed the doors open before I could lose my nerve.
Prince Dante stood by a window, backlit by purple sky. He turned as we entered, and I was struck by how different he looked from Sebastian. Where Sebastian was all sharp edges and ice, Dante was smooth elegance and calculated charm.
"Aria Thornwell." He studied me with dark eyes that missed nothing. "The human who broke an eight-hundred-year tradition. I've been curious to meet you."
"Save the pleasantries." I stepped forward, ignoring Kieran's warning hand on my arm. "Your messenger said you have a plan to save Sebastian. I'm listening."
"Direct. I like that." Dante moved to a desk, pouring two glasses of something dark red. Not blood—wine, I hoped. "Tell me, what did Sebastian share about my sister?"
The question caught me off guard. "What?"
"My sister, Lyanna. Did he mention her?" When I shook my head, Dante's smile turned bitter. "Of course not. He's spent centuries trying to forget."
He took a sip from his glass. "Lyanna was Sanguine-blessed. Like you. Eight hundred years ago, she fell in love with a vampire named Adrian. They wanted to bond—truly bond, the way your bloodline allows. But the court forbade it."
My chest tightened. "What happened to her?"
"They executed her." Dante's voice was flat, emotionless. "Burned her alive in the throne room as a warning to anyone else who might dare defy tradition. Adrian went mad with grief and started a rebellion to avenge her. That rebellion—" his eyes met mine, "—is what killed Sebastian's family."
The pieces clicked into place. "Celeste. Sebastian's sister. She was part of it."
"Not part of the rebellion." Dante set down his glass with careful precision. "Celeste tried to stop it. She fell in love with Adrian after Lyanna's death—wanted to show him there was still hope, still a chance for peace. She begged the court to change the law, to allow Sanguine bonds again."
He paused, pain flickering across his carefully controlled expression.
"The court demanded she prove her loyalty by executing Adrian herself. She refused. So they killed her too. And Sebastian—" Dante's jaw clenched, "—Sebastian slaughtered everyone involved. Including Adrian, the man his sister died trying to save."
Horror washed over me. "He never told me—"
"Because he's ashamed." Dante moved closer. "Celeste died asking him to find another way, to break the cycle of violence and tradition. Instead, he became the very thing she fought against. For eight centuries, he's performed the ritual that would have saved her life if it had been abolished."
Through the bond, I felt a flicker of Sebastian's pain from wherever they were holding him. It confirmed everything Dante was saying.
"Why are you telling me this?" I demanded.
"Because I need you to understand what you're fighting for." Dante's eyes blazed. "Sebastian is a coward who let fear rule him for eight hundred years. But you—you remind me of my sister. Brave. Defiant. Willing to die for what you believe in."
He pulled out a small vial—the same truth serum Kieran had shown me earlier.
"This is my plan," Dante said. "At Sebastian's execution tomorrow, I'll challenge Morgana for leadership. Ancient law requires she answer my challenge. During the duel, you'll spike her drink with this serum. She'll confess every crime, every manipulation. The court will have no choice but to remove her."
"And then?" I asked carefully.
"Then I become High Lord. I abolish the Winter Feast ritual. I pardon Sebastian and release the remaining brides." He held out the vial. "But I need your help. I can't defeat Morgana and expose her at the same time. I need someone on the inside. Someone she won't suspect."
It sounded too good to be true.
"What do you want in return?" I asked.
Dante smiled. "Smart girl. I want Sebastian to support my rule. Step down from his position and acknowledge me as leader of the Crimson Vale. His pride won't survive that—but you can convince him it's necessary."
Kieran made a disgusted sound. "This is about power."
"Everything is about power," Dante corrected. "But unlike Morgana, I actually want to change things. My sister died for nothing. I won't let yours—" he nodded at Elena, "—or the other brides suffer the same fate."
I studied him, trying to see past the charm to the truth underneath. Through the bond, Sebastian's pain pulsed again, stronger this time. They were hurting him.
"I'll do it," I said.
"Aria, no—" Kieran protested.
"On one condition." I ignored Kieran, focusing on Dante. "You get me into the blood dungeons tonight. I need to see Sebastian before the execution."
Dante's eyebrows rose. "That's suicide. Morgana has the dungeons heavily guarded."
"That's my price."
For a long moment, we stared at each other. Then Dante laughed—genuine amusement. "You really do remind me of Lyanna. Very well. I'll get you in. But—" his smile faded, "—there's something you should know first."
He pulled out a document, aged and yellowed. "This is the original contract your father signed. The one Celeste brought to the court."
My hands shook as I took it. I'd already heard what it said, but seeing my father's signature—
"Look at the witness signatures," Dante said quietly.
I scanned down. Two names witnessed the contract.
The first was my stepmother, Celeste.
The second made my blood run cold.
Sebastian Thorne.
"No," I breathed. "He wouldn't—"
"Twenty-five years ago, Sebastian witnessed and approved the contract that sold you to the vampire court." Dante's voice was gentle, almost sympathetic. "He knew, Aria. From the moment you were born, he knew exactly who you were. What you were. And he let it happen anyway."
The vial of truth serum slipped from my fingers, shattering on the floor.