Seven

A long, haunting silence blankets the room. The weight of it is suffocating, pressing against my chest like an unseen force.

And then—

Kieran laughs.

It starts slow, a low chuckle that barely carries across the space between us. Then it grows louder, sharper, until the sound fills the entire room. He leans back in his chair, shaking his head, a hand clapping against the table in mocking applause.

"Well, isn't this just perfect," he drawls, his green eyes glinting with something close to amusement. "Absolutely perfect."

Callum, on the other hand, doesn't laugh.

He just sits there, staring at the table, his expression unreadable.

And Hades—

Hades is looking at me.

His deep blue eyes, the same shade as my own, are locked onto me with something that I can't quite place. Not anger, not amusement, but disbelief. Like he's just seen something he never thought possible.

No one speaks.

Not for a long time.

The air is charged, crackling with something I don't understand, something just out of my reach.

Kieran is still shaking his head, his laughter fading into something quieter, almost like he's enjoying the sheer absurdity of it all.

Callum exhales slowly, rubbing a hand over his face.

And Hades—he hasn't taken his eyes off me.

Finally, I break the silence.

"What," I demand, my voice firm, cutting through the tension, "is going on?"

Kieran shakes his head, still grinning as he leans forward, resting his forearms on the table. His green eyes flick to Hades for a brief moment before settling back on me, amusement still dancing in them.

"I just can't believe it," he says, his voice dripping with mockery. "Our future queens are sisters."

My entire body goes rigid.

Future queens?

I don't know what infuriates me more—the cryptic way he's speaking or the way his words send an uneasy shiver down my spine.

I slam my hands against the table, my chair scraping backward as I lean in, matching his intensity.

"Stop playing around with words and explain," I snap. My voice rises, sharp with frustration, but somehow, even as I yell at Kieran, my gaze locks onto Hades.

He still hasn't looked away. Still hasn't said a single word.

Kieran finally stops laughing. He leans back, rubbing his jaw, then clears his throat. "Hells," he mutters under his breath. "I underestimated you."

I glare at him.

He smirks. "I think I'm starting to like you."

I don't get the chance to respond before he drops the words that change everything.

"You're the king's mate."

I turn to Hades, my breath catching in my throat. "What does that mean?"

I wait. Wait for him to answer. Wait for him to tell me that Kieran is wrong, that this is just another one of their twisted jokes.

But he only looks at me. And gods, his expression—his deep blue eyes aren't sharp with amusement this time, or glinting with that ever-present smugness. Instead, there's something softer there, something almost... regretful. Like he's trying to tell me something without speaking at all.

Like he's apologizing.

The silence stretches too long, tightening around my ribs, and just when I'm about to demand an answer, Kieran sighs.

"I don't even know where to begin," he says, shaking his head.

I barely spare him a glance. My attention is fixed on Hades, on the way his jaw tightens, his fingers curling slightly where they rest on the table.

Kieran exhales, tapping his fingers against the wood before finally saying, "Hades is the King of the West."

I feel it before I even register the words.

A strange, horrible jolt inside me, like the floor has been ripped out from beneath my feet. My ears ring. My stomach drops. My vision tunnels for just a second before snapping back into focus, too sharp, too much.

No.

No, that can't be right.

Because the King of the West is the man I came here to destroy. The man whose bride I was supposed to become. The man who stood as an untouchable figure on that throne, distant and unknown.

Not the man who led me through the maze. Not the man who smirked and teased me in the halls last night. Not the man sitting in front of me, watching me with that unreadable expression.

My body is stiff, cold, yet burning all at once. I can't breathe. I can't think.

Kieran leans back against his chair, a lazy smirk still tugging at his lips. "Well, since we're all being honest now..." He gestures to himself with a slow wave of his hand. "I'm Kieran, King of the South."

My breath hitches.

Kieran barely gives me a second to process before he nods toward Callum. "And that's Callum, King of the North."

I whip my head toward Callum, who is still staring blankly at the table, his jaw tight. He hasn't spoken since I mentioned Fayne's name.

I can't keep up. I can't even breathe. The weight of the air around me feels heavier, pressing down on my chest.

First Hades. Now Kieran and Callum.

Kings. All of them.

I force myself to swallow the lump in my throat, but my mind is a storm of thoughts clashing into each other. My pulse pounds in my ears. This doesn't make any sense.

"If you're all kings..." I finally manage to say, my voice unsteady, "then what in the gods' names are you doing here? In the middle of a secluded forest? Living in a hidden manor?" I shake my head, my hands clenching on my lap. "None of this makes sense."

Kieran exhales a long, exaggerated sigh, as if he's been waiting for this question. He stretches his arms, his green eyes flicking to Hades before turning back to me.

"Because, my lady," Kieran says, voice dropping slightly, "we're all cursed."

Kieran leans forward, the casualness of his posture slipping just slightly. There's a coldness in his eyes now, a weight that shifts the air between us. His smirk fades, and I see the true edge of his expression for the first time.

"The curse," Kieran begins, his voice low, "wasn't always this way. We were once kings, rulers of the elements, masters of our domains. But that power... it came at a price."

I swallow hard, trying to make sense of what he's saying. But I can't get my thoughts straight, not with all the pieces swirling in my head. My sister, the gods, the curse...

"We were cursed by the gods themselves," Kieran continues, his voice edged with a bitterness I can feel in my bones. "To be immortal, yes, but bound to a fate worse than death. No life to live, no end to our suffering. All we have to look forward to is endless days, each one like the last."

I try to wrap my mind around the words, the weight of them, but they don't fit together. "What does that mean? Immortal, but bound? Why is this happening? How?"

Kieran's eyes flicker to Hades, who hasn't moved since the moment I asked about the curse. His jaw is clenched, and there's a tense silence hanging between them before Kieran speaks again.

"We're cursed," he says slowly, deliberately, "because we failed. The gods wanted us to be their perfect champions, their puppets. We overthrew them, but in doing so, we sealed our own fate. They gave us immortality as punishment—but... they tied it to the only thing that could free us."

He looks at me, eyes narrowing slightly, and for the first time, I see a flicker of something more personal in his gaze. "A mate. Our true mate. One who could break the curse, undo it. But it's not as simple as it sounds."

My heart starts pounding again, this time for a different reason. "What do you mean?"

Kieran tilts his head, studying me. "You don't know what you've stepped into, do you, Freya?"

I feel a rush of frustration, a flood of confusion. "No, I don't. And I don't know if I want to."

But the words come out before I can stop them, before I can hide the fear creeping into my chest.

Hades' gaze softens just a fraction, but it's gone as quickly as it came, like a shadow passing over the sun. He leans forward slightly, as though he might say something, but Kieran beats him to it.

"What you need to understand," Kieran says, "is that this curse—it isn't just about finding your mate. It's about what happens when you do." He pauses, his expression turning grim. "When we find her—or him—our fates are sealed. But only one thing can break the curse, and none of us have been lucky enough to find that person."

I feel the weight of his words settle in my stomach, sinking deeper with every passing second. "So you're all cursed, and you need a mate to break it? But why me?"

Kieran regards me quietly, his sharp green eyes softening just slightly, as if trying to explain something terribly obvious to a child. "You don't choose your mate, Freya," he says gently, shaking his head. "Your mate finds you. Destiny finds you. Just like you found Hades."

I swallow hard, my gaze sliding toward Hades. He sits perfectly still, his expression unreadable. My chest tightens again—that confusing, undeniable pull still there, growing stronger with each passing second.

Kieran leans forward a little, resting his elbows on the table. "Tell me," he says carefully, "can you smell it? A specific scent that's... stronger when you're near him? Something unique, something impossible to ignore."

My breath catches sharply. That lavender and wood scent.

Kieran smiles faintly, though there's no joy behind it. "That scent is different for each of us. We each have our own unique fragrance that leads us to our true mate. And when that scent appears—when it hits us—we follow it."

He pauses then, his jaw tightening as he glances briefly toward Callum, who still sits quietly, eyes fixed on the table.

"The King of the East was following his mate's scent," Kieran says slowly, quietly, "when it led him to your sister. Fayne. From the moment he saw her, he knew exactly what she was to him. He swore then and there he would save her, no matter the cost, and bring her out of Dawn Valley."

My heart stops.

Fayne.

The room feels colder suddenly, the walls pressing in on me as his words echo in my ears. Alec—King of the East—is Fayne's mate.

I struggle to breathe, the shock ripping through my body like lightning. "Fayne is... his mate?"

Kieran nods solemnly, his expression suddenly careful, guarded. "Yes. She is."

My fingers tremble where they rest in my lap, my mind racing. My little sister—bound to a king just like I'm bound to Hades.

Kieran exhales, rolling his shoulders back as if the weight of this truth has settled deep in his bones. "You see, my lady, our lands—our kingdoms—need their kings back. But right now, we're nothing more than ghosts of rulers, exiled from our own thrones while the gods of Dawn Valley sit in control."

I stare at him, my chest tightening. "The gods are controlling our lands?"

Kieran nods. "Ever since they cursed us, they've slowly taken everything that was once ours. The people, the power, the land itself. We're nothing more than symbols now—legends, myths. Kings in name alone."

My pulse pounds as the truth unravels before me, each thread pulling tighter.

Callum finally speaks, his voice quiet. "The war centuries ago—we won. We defeated the gods."

I snap my gaze to him. "Then why are you cursed?"

Kieran laughs, but there's no humor in it. "Because the gods didn't want to accept their loss. They couldn't bear the thought of mortals—of men—defying them. So they found another way to win."

My stomach turns.

"They cursed us," Kieran continues, leaning forward, "binding us to an existence where we could never truly rule. Never truly live. They took our power, stripped us of everything we were. And in order to keep that power, the gods needed something to sustain them."

My mind races as I try to put the pieces together. "What do you mean?"

Hades speaks then, his voice quiet, deadly. "To maintain their power, they freeze a virgin's blood in their temple."

My breath catches. "What?"

Callum nods grimly. "It's their way of keeping the curse intact. They trap time in the blood of the innocent. As long as it remains frozen in their temple, the curse remains unbroken, and we remain bound to this existence."

I shake my head. This is too much. Too twisted, too cruel. "Then how do you break the curse?"

Kieran's gaze darkens, his expression turning grave. "The only way to break it is for one of us to find our mate—and for her to accept the bond. For her to go to the gods, not as a sacrifice, but as a queen. A king alone cannot break the curse. It has to be a queen."

The weight of those words crashes down on me, knocking the air from my lungs.

"A queen," I repeat hollowly.

Kieran nods. "A mate must willingly stand beside her king. She must face the gods as his equal—his queen. That is the only way to undo what was done to us."

I feel sick. My body is stiff, cold, my mind spiraling.

"And the trial?" Kieran continues, watching me carefully now. "What do you think it really is?"

I don't answer. I don't want to.

Callum is the one who says it, his voice softer now, almost pitying. "It's not a search for a queen."

A shiver runs down my spine.

"It's a sacrifice," Hades finishes. "A bride isn't chosen to rule. She's chosen to die."

My hands curl into fists as nausea twists my stomach.

The trial was never about finding a queen. It was about maintaining the gods' rule.

It was about blood.

It was about Fayne.

I can't breathe. I can't think.

Everything I thought I knew about this world, about this trial, about the king I was supposed to marry—it was all a lie.

My chest is so tight, I can barely draw a breath. But beneath the swirling chaos in my mind, one thing is clear—I have no choice. I can't step away, can't back down now. Not while Fayne is still trapped in their twisted game.

"Then what do we do?" I ask, my voice sounding hollow even to my own ears. "If this is true, if the trial is nothing but a sick ritual for the gods, how do we stop it? How do we save Fayne?"

Callum finally shifts in his seat, slowly turning to face me. His bright blue eyes, usually so playful and carefree, are filled now with a quiet seriousness.

"Freya," he says softly, carefully, "of all four of us, only Hades and Alec have found their mates. That means our only real hope rests with either you or Fayne." He pauses, hesitation heavy in his voice. "And honestly—I doubt Fayne is free enough to decide anything right now. If she's in Dawn Valley, she's likely imprisoned somewhere deep beneath the gods' temple."

Imprisoned.

The word hits me like a blow, twisting painfully inside my chest.

Callum continues gently. "She doesn't have the freedom to accept or reject the bond—even if she wanted to."

Kieran leans forward again, picking up where Callum leaves off. His voice is steady, unflinching. "Which means there's only one real choice left to us. One path we can take—one hope."

He meets my gaze evenly, unafraid of the weight his words carry.

"You, Freya...," he says. "...are the only one who can save us. All of us."