Gold light pulsed against my skin, burning like a brand.
My wrists throbbed where the magical tether bound us, invisible yet heavy as iron chains.
"Get this off me," I spat, my voice dropping to a dangerous, gravelly hiss as I yanked against the empty air.
Luke didn't flinch.
His blonde hair caught the dying neon glow filtering through the shattered stained glass of the ruined cathedral.
"I can't," he said, holding up his own hand, where a matching golden ring of light shimmered around his wrist. "Our geas is locked. It won't release us until we reach the border."
Anger flared hot in my chest, a familiar, toxic heat.
My fingers twitched, desperate to summon a card, to slice that polite, symmetrical face of his.
"You set me up," I snarled, stepping closer until the heat of his sun-magic brushed my cheeks. "You and your glittering, hypocritical Council planned this whole damn thing."
"This wasn't my choice either, Evan," Luke murmured, his blue eyes softening with a look that made my stomach turn.
Pity.
Pure, unadulterated pity from the prince of the golden sector.
"Don't look at me like that," I snapped, my jaw clenching so hard my teeth ground together.
Without warning, a sharp tug pulled at my navel.
My legs moved of their own accord, taking a forced step toward him.
"What the hell?" I gasped, digging my worn leather boots into the dusty stone floor.
My hands shook as I tried to channel my magic.
A single card—the Jack of Spades—slid from my sleeve into my palm.
I threw it at the golden tether, hoping the razor-sharp edge of my card magic could sever the spell.
Harmless ash was all that remained as the card disintegrated the moment it touched the light.
Liquid heat traveled up my arm, a phantom fire that made my veins glow a faint, sickly gold.
My muscles locked up, forcing my hand down to my side.
"Don't fight it," Luke warned, his voice low and remarkably steady. "The geas will only burn hotter if you resist."
"You think you can control me with a little light?" I growled, a sweat bead rolling down my temple.
My heart hammered a frantic rhythm against my ribs, a trapped bird slamming against its cage.
"This isn't control," he said, though his eyes betrayed a flicker of guilt. "It's a necessity."
"Our geas is activating," Luke explained, turning toward the ruined exit. "If we don't move toward the border wall together, the magic will literally drag you. Please, don't make this harder than it has to be."
"Go to hell," I hissed, but my body betrayed me.
Another step.
Then another, my boots scraping against the broken glass as the golden tether yanked me forward like a dog on a leash.
Humming sun-magic vibrated through the link, warm and suffocatingly bright.
Damp stone beneath my feet smelled of mold and centuries of rot.
I hated this place, and I hated the fact that I was trapped in it with him.
---
Rain fell in sheets as we stepped out into the dark alleyways of the Penance Wing.
Neon signs buzzed overhead, casting greasy pink and electric blue puddles across the cracked asphalt.
People watched us from the shadows of fire escapes—grimy, desperate souls who recognized my crimson jacket and Luke's pristine white coat.
My red leather jacket was soaked through within minutes, clinging cold to my shoulders.
Luke, of course, had a faint shimmer of sun-magic keeping the raindrops from even touching his white coat.
It was infuriating.
A group of street thugs stepped out from a dark alleyway, their eyes glinting with malicious intent.
They saw my red jacket and grinned, but when they saw Luke, they froze.
His golden aura hummed, a subtle but terrifying display of raw power that made the hairs on my arms stand up.
They slinked back into the shadows without a single word.
"They'll tear you apart if they realize who you are," I muttered, keeping my gaze fixed ahead.
"They won't," Luke said quietly, walking with an easy grace that belonged in a ballroom, not these gutters. "Our border guard is already expecting us."
"You're a walking target," I muttered, crossing my arms.
"I can take care of myself," Luke replied, his voice calm.
"I don't care about your safety," I snapped. "I care about mine. If they think I'm working with a high-sector prince, my reputation in the Penance Wing is dead."
People in the slums whispered about the golden sector as if it were another planet.
They spoke of streets paved with solid crystal and towers that touched the stars.
I knew better.
It was just a prettier cage, built on the backs of everyone they had discarded down here in the dark.
"Why are you doing this?" I asked, my voice barely audible over the sound of the rain. "Why me? There are plenty of other houses you could have forced into an alliance."
"Because the Queen of Hearts still has loyalists," Luke said, his eyes scanning the rooftops. "And because you are the only one who can unify the factions. If we don't do this, the civil war will start here, in the slums."
"Let it," I spat, wiping rainwater from my eyes.
"You don't mean that," he said.
"I do," I snapped. "I want to watch your perfect world crumble."
"You planned this," I accused, my fist clenching inside my pocket, crushing the edges of my favorite deck of cards. "The letter, the spell, the timing. You knew I'd be at the cathedral tonight."
"I knew you were desperate," he countered. "I knew you wanted answers about your mother."
Mention of my mother made my blood run cold.
She was a disgraced exile, locked away in some high-security cell in the golden sector, paying for the sins of her failed rebellion.
"Leave her out of this," I warned, my voice dropping to a dangerous whisper.
"She is the reason we are here," Luke said, his voice soft but unyielding.
Suddenly, I tried to bolt down a side alley, desperate to break the connection.
Blinding white pain shot through my chest, stopping me mid-stride.
I gasped, collapsing against a damp brick wall as my lungs seized up.
"I told you," Luke said, rushing to my side, his hand reaching out to steady me. "You can't fight the geas."
"Don't touch me!" I snarled, slapping his hand away.
Magic flared, forcing me back to my feet and dragging me back to his side.
My heart hammered against my ribs, a wild, trapped beast.
"I hate you," I whispered, my voice trembling with a mix of exhaustion and fury.
"I know," Luke replied, his expression unreadable as we continued toward the massive structure looming in the distance.
---
Towering above the slums, the border wall loomed like a giant, blinding monolith.
Solid white stone, reinforced with humming blue energy shields, it sliced our world in two.
On this side lay the dirt, the rain, the neon-drenched misery of the Penance Wing.
On the other side lay the clean, sparkling spires of Paragon, touching the sky.
A dozen armed guards stood at the massive iron gates, their silver armor gleaming under the spotlights.
My heart hammered against my ribs as we stopped a few feet from the threshold.
Gold light around our wrists flared brighter, pulsing in sync with the energy of the wall.
"We're here," I said, my voice dripping with venom. "Our geas brought us to the border. Now undo it and get back to your castle."
"It's not that simple, Evan," Luke said, turning to face me fully.
He reached into his coat and pulled out a rolled parchment, sealed with the royal crest of the Cinderella line.
"Our treaty requires a binding of blood and house. A marriage of state."
"A what?" I laughed, a harsh, humorless sound that echoed off the damp stone. "You're insane. I'm the son of a traitor. You're the golden boy. They'd never let a degenerate like me walk your clean streets."
"That's exactly why they're doing it," Luke said, his expression turning deadly serious. "Our High Council wants to show the realm that the 'wicked' can be reformed. Or, more accurately, controlled."
"I don't roll over for anyone," I spat, taking a step back, only for the golden magic to yank me forward, chest-to-chest with him.
"Listen to me," Luke whispered, his breath warm against my lips, his hands coming up to grip my shoulders. "You don't have a choice."
"There's always a choice," I growled, my eyes flashing red as my card magic flared beneath my skin.
"Not this time," Luke said, his voice dropping, carrying a weight that shocked me. "Our Council has signed the execution warrant for your mother. It's sitting on my stepfather's desk."
His words felt like a physical blow to my chest.
Air rushed out of my lungs, leaving me hollowed out and freezing.
"You're lying," I breathed, my defensive walls crumbling for a split second before I rebuilt them with pure fury. "You're bluffing to get me to comply."
"I wish I were," Luke said.
He unrolled the parchment, revealing the black ink and the stark, crimson stamp of the death sentence.
"If you refuse the betrothal, the execution will be carried out at midnight. If you agree, she is granted a lifetime reprieve in a comfortable sanctuary. Those are the terms."
I remembered the smell of her cheap perfume, the way she laughed when she cheated at poker.
She was no saint, but she was mine, the only person who had ever looked at me and seen something worth keeping.
My vision blurred for a split second, my chest tightening so hard I could barely draw breath.
She has three days, I realized, unless I surrendered myself to their polished cage.
My fist clenched so hard my fingernails bit into my palms, drawing thin lines of blood.
Physical pain was nothing compared to the suffocating weight of my own helplessness.
"You're a monster," I whispered, staring at his perfect, symmetrical face. "All of you. You wear crowns and pretend to be saviors, but you're just monsters with better public relations."
"Maybe," Luke said, his eyes darkening with a flash of something that looked suspiciously like pain. "But this monster is offering you a way to save her."
My jaw tightened so hard a muscle twitched in my cheek.
Trapped.
They had boxed me in perfectly, using the one person left in this miserable world I actually cared about.
"This is humiliating," I muttered, looking down at our bound wrists. "You want me to play the pet villain in your perfect little fairytale?"
Our betrothal isn't just a piece of paper, I knew.
It would be a complete integration into their high-class society, a public parade where I would be on display.
"A golden cage," Luke corrected quietly. "But one where you are safe. And where your mother survives."
"I want to keep your mother alive," Luke said softly.
His hand brushed mine, a gentle, comforting gesture that felt like a slap in the face.
"Don't touch me," I snapped, pulling away as far as the tether would allow.
"Evan..." Luke's eyes filled with that sickening, soft pity again.
He looked at me as if I were a broken toy he could fix with enough sunshine and patience.
I hated it.
I hated him more than I had ever hated anyone in my entire life.
"Fine," I spat, the word tasting like ash in my mouth. "I'll play your little game. I'll wear your ring. I'll live in your shiny towers."
But in my mind, a dark, vicious promise took root.
I would smile for their cameras, and I would play the reformed delinquent.
Then, when they least expected it, I would find their secrets, their weaknesses, and I would burn their perfect golden world to the ground from the inside.
"Thank you," Luke whispered, a look of genuine relief washing over his features.
"Don't thank me," I hissed, my eyes narrowing. "I'm going to make your life a living hell, prince."
"I'd expect nothing less," Luke said, a faint, sad smile touching his lips.
He raised his hand, gesturing to the guards.
With a heavy groan of grinding gears, the massive iron gates began to swing open, revealing the blinding, pristine light of the golden sector.
Physical pull of the geas tightened, dragging us forward toward the threshold.
My feet felt like lead, every step a betrayal of who I was, of the streets that raised me.
"This is a mistake," I whispered, staring into the blinding light ahead.
Luke steps forward and whispers, 'I chose you because you're the only one who doesn't look at me like I'm a saint,' before the border gates slam shut behind them.