Updated Nov 6, 2025 • ~7 min read
They spent the rest of day twenty-eight preparing.
Not combat preparation—Raven was as ready as she’d ever be after twenty-eight days of training with a master. Emotional preparation. Sitting in Draven’s private chambers, holding each other, saying things that needed to be said before they stepped into an arena where everything would change.
“Tell me about before,” Draven said quietly. They were curled together on the massive couch, shadows providing ambient warmth. “Before the Guild. What do you remember?”
“Nothing.” Raven traced patterns on his hand. “I’ve tried. But it’s blank. Five years old when they took me, and everything before that is just… gone. Either erased by the binding magic or just too far away to remember.”
“That’s cruel.”
“That’s efficient. Can’t mourn what you don’t remember losing.” She leaned her head against his shoulder. “What about you? Five hundred years. What was your first memory?”
Draven was quiet, shadows swirling thoughtfully. “My mother. High Fae, beautiful, terrifying. She ruled the Night Court before it fell. I remember her teaching me shadow magic, showing me how darkness wasn’t absence of light but presence of power.”
“What happened to her?”
“She died in the court wars. Three centuries ago.” His voice was distant. “I avenged her, took control of the Shadow Court, built it into what it is now. Everything I’ve done since then has been maintaining her legacy.”
“She’d be proud.”
“Maybe. Or maybe she’d be disappointed I’ve spent the last century bored instead of building something new.” He kissed the top of Raven’s head. “But I think she’d like you. You remind me of her. Sharp, deadly, refusing to be anything less than extraordinary.”
Raven absorbed that. “I’m honored. And terrified. But honored.”
They sat in comfortable silence, the countdown ticking away in both their minds.
“I’m scared,” Raven admitted suddenly. “I’ve never been scared before. The Guild trained fear out of me. But now? I’m terrified.”
“Of dying?”
“Of losing you.” She pulled back to meet his eyes. “I’ve been alone my whole life. Then I found you. Found what it means to be seen as a person instead of a weapon. And tomorrow’s gamble might work, or it might kill me, and either way, I’m terrified of what happens next.”
“Then let me be scared with you.” He touched her face gently. “I’m terrified too. That the challenge won’t work. That the binding won’t accept it. That I’ll watch you die and be powerless to stop it.”
“You’re five hundred years old. You’ve faced armies. How can you be scared?”
“Because I’ve never had something worth losing before.” His expression was painfully open. “I’ve ruled for three centuries with nothing but duty and boredom. Then you walked in ready to murder me, and suddenly I had purpose again. Meaning. Someone who matters more than my own existence. Losing that?” He shook his head. “That terrifies me more than any army.”
Raven understood completely. The Guild had trained her to feel nothing, be nothing, want nothing except completion.
But Draven had taught her to feel everything. Be more than a weapon. Want things beyond survival.
And now, with less than two days left, she wanted desperately to keep existing in a world where he existed too.
“Promise me something,” she said.
“Anything.”
“If the challenge doesn’t work. If the binding kills me anyway.” She took a shaky breath. “Promise you’ll destroy the Guild. Systematically. Completely. Every trainer, every handler, every person who’s ever hurt children like they hurt me.”
“I promise.” No hesitation. “If you die, the Guild dies with you. Slowly. Painfully. I’ll make it legendary.”
“Good.” She managed a small smile. “At least my death would mean something.”
“Your death means nothing because you’re not dying.” His tone went fierce. “The challenge will work. The binding will accept it. You’ll take my throne, we’ll figure out co-ruling, and the Guild can send all the assassins they want. We’ll kill them together.”
“You’re very confident.”
“I’m very motivated.” He pulled her close again. “I didn’t spend twenty-eight days teaching you everything I know just to watch you die on day thirty. That would be poor educational planning.”
Despite everything, Raven laughed. “Is that what this was? Educational planning?”
“Intensive training program with romantic subplot.” His grin was wicked. “Very comprehensive curriculum.”
They stayed like that until midnight, trading stories and fears and promises. Draven told her about five hundred years of existence—the good, the bad, the profoundly boring. Raven told him what she could remember of twenty-six years—mostly killing and training, but sprinkled with moments of almost-humanity she’d hidden from the Guild.
“What’s the first thing you want to do?” He asked as the clock struck midnight. Day twenty-nine. One day left. “After the challenge. After you’re Shadow Princess. What’s the first thing?”
“Besides destroy the Guild?”
“Besides that. For you. What do you want?”
Raven thought about it. About twenty-eight days of discovering who she was beyond assassination.
“I want to read every book in your library. Learn poetry and history and things that have nothing to do with killing. I want to train in the mornings and have dinners where we argue about chess strategies. I want to attend court sessions and actually understand the politics instead of just enduring them.” She met his eyes. “I want to build a life that’s mine. Chosen. Free.”
“Then that’s what we’ll do.” He said it like a vow. “Every book. Every dinner. Every choice yours to make. Partner to partner. Equal to equal.”
“I like the sound of that.”
“So do I.” He stood, pulling her up with him. “Come on. Let’s get you to bed. Tomorrow’s a big day. Challenging a Shadow Prince for his throne requires proper rest.”
“Are you nervous?” She let him lead her toward the door.
“Terrified. Excited. Hopeful.” He smiled. “All the emotions I haven’t felt in decades. You’ve made me human again, Raven Storm. That alone was worth the twenty-eight days of assassination attempts.”
“I wasn’t that bad at it.”
“You were terrible at it. Nine failed attempts.” He counted on his fingers. “Poison, ambush twice, arrow from above, various blade work. All unsuccessful. Worst assassin I’ve ever faced.”
“I wounded you. Twice.”
“You did.” His smile turned proud. “And tomorrow, you’ll defeat me. Take my throne. Become everything I’ve been training you to be.”
They reached her chambers—she hadn’t slept in his yet, some lingering professionalism keeping them separate at night. But he walked her to the door, shadows trailing affectionately.
“Tomorrow,” Raven said.
“Tomorrow.” He kissed her softly. “Sleep well, future Shadow Princess. You’ll need your strength.”
He started to leave, but she caught his hand.
“Stay?” The request came out small. “I don’t want to be alone tonight. Not with one day left.”
His expression softened. “Always.”
They lay together in her bed, shadows dimmed to let in starlight from the window. Draven held her like she was precious, and Raven let herself feel safe despite the countdown burning under her skin.
“I love you,” she whispered into the darkness. “I know I said it earlier. But I need you to hear it again. I love you.”
“I love you too.” His voice was quiet, certain. “However tomorrow goes, whatever happens, I love you. That’s real. That’s chosen. That’s the one thing the Guild can never take from us.”
They fell asleep like that—prince and assassin, wrapped in shadows, holding onto each other like lifelines.
One day left.
Tomorrow, everything would change.
Tomorrow, Raven would either become Shadow Princess or die trying.
Tomorrow, they’d find out if love was strong enough to break binding magic and defy fate.
Tomorrow.
But tonight, they had this. Each other. Chosen. Real. Worth fighting for.
And that was enough.
Reader Reactions