We stand there, Damon looking at the ground, each trying to come to terms with the sudden truth. Damon's breathing gradually steadies.
The twin bond hums between us—not pulling or aching like it usually does, but warm. Settled. Like two halves finally finding each other.
When he finally looks up, his face is blotchy, eyes red-rimmed. He looks younger somehow. More human.
"I don't care about the throne," he says, voice rough. "I don't care about the prophecy or ancient law or any of it." His hands grip my shoulders. "I just want my sister to live."
The words hit me square in the chest. My own eyes burn with tears I've been holding back.
"Then we find another way," I say. "Together."
"How?" His voice cracks. "The trials are sacred. If we refuse to fight, the council will force it. And if we fight but don't—" He stops. "There's no way out that doesn't end with one of us dead."
"There has to be." I take his hands, squeezing hard. "Because I just found my brother. I'm not losing him now."
Something flickers across his face—hope mixed with desperate fear. The twin bond pulses between us, and for the first time since I learned what it was, it doesn't feel like a burden.
It feels like hope.
But hope isn't enough. Not against what we're facing.
"Damon," I say carefully. "There's something you need to know. About why the Queen Mother wants this so badly."
His expression shutters slightly, walls trying to rebuild. "What do you mean?"
"The mate bond. Between me and Theron." I force myself to hold his gaze. "It's not real. It was never real."
He goes very still. "What?"
"It's fabricated. Artificial magic, forced onto both of us." The words taste like poison. "Someone created it to keep me weak. To cage me in Shadowpine where I couldn't discover who I was. Where I couldn't grow strong enough to threaten anyone."
"Who?" But something in his eyes says he already knows. Already suspects.
"The Queen Mother." I watch his face carefully. "She orchestrated it. Years ago, before I even knew what a mate bond was. She hired a dark witch to bind me to Theron artificially."
The color drains from his face. "No."
"Malik and I heard her tonight. She was meeting with her loyalists, laying out her plan." I grip his hands tighter as they start to shake. "She's been poisoning the King. Slowly, for months. She wants him weak enough that when you take the throne, she can rule as regent."
"That's not—she wouldn't—" But his voice is hollow. He's already believing it.
"She wants me dead in the trials. Wants you to kill me so the guilt will destroy you, make you easier to control." The words come faster now, desperate. "She admitted it, Damon. Said she's been planning this since before we were born. Since our mother got pregnant and threatened everything she'd built."
He's shaking his head, but tears are streaming down his face again.
"She killed my mother," I whisper. "Your mother. Queen Elara. The Queen Mother murdered her."
"Stop." The word is choked. "Please, just—"
"She never wanted you to find me." I can't stop now. He needs to hear all of it. "She wanted you to kill me without ever knowing me. To make you into a weapon she could control through guilt and pain and—"
"I said stop!" His voice cracks like thunder, and suddenly he's backing away from me. His hands are in his hair, pulling, his breathing ragged. "You're lying. You have to be lying because she—she raised me. She loved me. She's the only mother I've ever—"
"I'm not lying. I wish I was. But I heard her, Damon. Heard her laugh about how broken you'd be after killing me. How easy you'd be to manipulate."
He makes a sound like a wounded animal. His back hits the wall, and he slides down it, knees pulling up to his chest.
I've never seen him like this. The confident prince, the cold warrior, completely shattered.
"She used to read to me," he says, voice barely audible. "When I was small. Before bed. She'd brush my hair back and tell me I was going to be a great king someday." He looks up at me, and his eyes are devastated. "She was the one who taught me to fight, to be strong. She was—" His voice breaks. "She was my mother."
I move to him slowly, sinking down beside him against the wall. "I know."
"How could she?" The question is anguished. "If she loved me, how could she plan to destroy me like that?"
"I don't think she loved you." The words are brutal, but he needs to hear them. "I think she loved the idea of controlling the throne through you. Of having power without the responsibility."
He's quiet for a long moment, just breathing. When he speaks again, his voice is hollow. "I would have done it. If I hadn't felt you through the bond, if I hadn't known your pain—" He stops. "I would have killed you. And she would have had exactly what she wanted."
"But you didn't." I take his hand. "You chose differently. You chose me."
"Because I know you now." He turns to look at me, and there's something fierce in his eyes despite the tears. "She wanted me to kill a stranger. An enemy. A threat." His fingers tighten on mine. "But you're not any of those things. You're my sister. My twin. The only family I have left that isn't poisoned."
The twin bond flares between us, warm and strong.
"We stop her," I say quietly. "We expose what she's done. We save the King. And we find a way out of the blood trials that doesn't end with one of us dead."
"How?" But this time there's steel in his voice. Determination fighting through the devastation.
"I don't know yet." Honesty. "But we have allies. Malik, Marcus—"
"Marcus knew?" His eyes narrow. "About Mom—Seraphine?"
"Some of it. Not all." I explain quickly—Marcus and my birth mother, the letters, his attempt to protect me that backfired. "He's helping us now."
Damon processes this, jaw clenched. "Who else?"
"Just us. For now." I meet his eyes. "Can I trust you? Really trust you? Because if we're going to survive this, I need to know you're with me. Not with her."
He doesn't answer right away. Just looks at me for a long moment, the twin bond humming between us. Then he pulls me into his arms again, holding tight.
"I'm with you," he says against my hair. "Sister before crown." He pulls back to look at me, and his eyes are clear despite the tears. "We survive this together, or not at all."
Relief floods through me so intensely I almost sob.
"When the trials starts," I say. "We have to appear to fight. Have to make it look real, or she'll know something's wrong."
"We fight." His jaw sets. "But not to kill. To survive long enough to expose her." He stands, pulling me up with him. "I need to go. Before someone notices I'm here. But Kira—"
"What?"
"Thank you." His voice cracks. "For telling me. For trusting me with this. For—" He stops. "For being my sister."
I hug him one more time, fierce and quick. "I'm glad I found you."
Something vulnerable flashes across his face. "Me too."