Drogonny Bloodmoor crouched in the treeline outside the vampire kingdom's walls, counting the guards who should have knelt to him. He was the true heir to that throne. The old king sat on it anyway, because Drogonny's mother was a demon, and the court called him filth. Tonight he would wait for the signal fire. Then he would charge the gate and take back what his blood owed him. His black hair hung wet against his neck. Gold thread caught the moonlight along his legs. He had rehearsed the king's death a thousand times. But he had made a mistake, and her name was Catrina Nighthorror. She was the princess of the kingdom he meant to burn. Three nights now she had slipped out to meet him, past the wall, into the dark. He told himself he met her for information. That was a lie. He met her because when she laughed, the war in his chest went quiet. Her hair fell dark red and gold. Her black eyes held a red glow, and they found him before he ever made a sound. "You came back," Catrina said. She stepped from the shadows, her gown trailing gold and red over the leaves. "My father burns the signal fire at midnight. You know what that means." "It means I attack," Drogonny said. "It means you die." She closed the distance between them. "He knows a demon waits outside the walls. The guards are doubled. The fire isn't a signal. It's bait, for you." Drogonny's hand went to his blade. His whole plan cracked in his fist. If he charged tonight, he charged into a trap she had just handed him the key to escape. "Why tell me this?" he asked. "I came here to kill your father. You know that." "I know." Catrina didn't step back. "He killed my mother the same way he cast you out. For being inconvenient." She pressed something cold into his palm. A key, old iron, warm from her hand. "The servants' gate below the courtyard. It opens from the inside. I can open it." Drogonny stared at the key. He had come to destroy her house. She was offering to open the door. "If this is a trap too," he said, "I'll know." "Then don't trust me yet." She took his face in both hands. Her thumbs pressed against his jaw. "Trust that I want him dead more than you do." He kissed her. He didn't decide to. It simply happened, and when it ended, he knew his war had changed shape. He was no longer a stranger at the gate. He was the man the princess would betray her father for. At midnight the fire bloomed over the wall, orange and hungry. Drogonny did not charge. He turned from the open field and followed Catrina toward the hidden gate. His enemy had set a trap for an outsider. He would come through a door no outsider had.

The iron key turned, and the servants' gate swung open. Drogonny Bloodmoor stepped through into the king's domain. Catrina Nighthorror walked beside him, her gold and red gown brushing the stone. She was the princess he had come to use against her father, and now he had to trust her with his life. He did not know yet if he could. Guards stood everywhere. Two flanked the great black gate, where blue crystals glowed and gold dripped down the dark stone. Stone demons crouched on either side, watching with carved eyes. The guards watched too. They studied every servant, every shadow, every face that passed. Drogonny kept his hood low. His black and red hair hid under the cloth. One wrong glance and the doubled watch would know a demon walked among them. He looked at Catrina. He searched her face for the small tells of betrayal. Was this the trap behind the trap? She caught his stare and did not flinch. "Keep your eyes down," she whispered. "You stare like a man who doesn't belong." "I'm checking whether you do," he said. She took his arm, firm, and pulled him into step beside her. "If I wanted you dead, I'd have let the fire take you." She nodded at the nearest guard. "Smile. Carry the basket. You're a servant hauling wine to my rooms." A guard stepped into their path. He looked Drogonny over, slow. "I don't know this one." Drogonny's hand drifted toward his blade. Catrina's grip tightened, stopping him. "He's new," she said. Her voice turned cold and royal. "My father hired more hands when he doubled your watch. Or do you question the king's orders now?" The guard's face went pale. He stepped back and bowed his head. "Forgive me, Princess." They walked on. Drogonny's pulse slammed. She had not sold him. She had used her name as a shield and spent it on him. That was proof no words could give. Past a courtyard, an old willow grew against the inner wall. Its bark was black, veined with gold, wrapped in red vines. A face formed in the trunk, eyes half open, as if the tree watched them too. Catrina pulled him into its shadow and stopped. "The king sleeps past that hall," she said. "The crown never leaves his head, even in sleep. To take the throne, you take the crown." Drogonny stared at her a long moment. The doubt in his chest went quiet. "I trust you," he said. He meant it. Catrina's black eyes glowed red. "Good. Because now there's no gate behind us." She pointed down the hall. "My father wakes at the third bell. We have until then to reach his chamber. After that, every guard in the castle hunts us both." The bell tower loomed ahead. Drogonny counted. One bell had already rung.

Drogonny Bloodmoor and Catrina Nighthorror reached the hall outside the king's chamber. The second bell still hummed in the air. Then a boom split the stone floor. Green light poured up through the crack, bright as poison. A gate rose from nothing, wrapped in thorned red vines, a carved moon staring down from its crown. Drogonny shoved Catrina behind him and drew his blade. A man stepped out of the green light. He was tall and dark-skinned, his robe stitched with stars. His crown burned with blue fire. His black eyes fixed on Drogonny alone. The guards down the hall froze, then dropped to their knees. Even the carved stone demons seemed to shrink from him. "You are my son," the man said. "I am Celest. I rule the moon and the stars. Your mother was mine, and so are you. Half demon, half of me. You are a demigod. Come home." Drogonny's grip tightened. "I have no father who left me to be hunted." "I did not leave you." Celest's voice stayed flat. "My stars are going dark. Something pulls them out, one by one. Power will not stop it. I need blood of my blood beside me." He reached out a hand. "This throne is dust. I offer you a galaxy." The offer landed hard. A galaxy. A father. A place where no one spat the word demon. Drogonny felt the pull of it in his chest. Catrina's hand pressed against his back. She said nothing. She let him choose. "The third bell is close," she whispered. "Decide." Drogonny looked at the chamber door where the old king slept with his crown. He looked at the god who had never come until he wanted something. "You come now," Drogonny said, "when you need me. Not when I was starving at these walls. Not when they called me filth." He raised his blade toward the king's door. "My throne is here. I earn it with my own hands." Celest's eyes did not change. "Then you refuse a god." "I refuse you." For a moment Drogonny thought the god would strike him down. Instead Celest lowered his hand. "You are strong. Good. You will need it." The green light pulled back into the gate. "When your crown burns and your stars go dark, call my name. I will not come twice." The gate sank into the floor. The crack sealed. The green glow died. The hall went silent. Then the kneeling guards lifted their heads. They had seen Drogonny's face. They had heard a god name him demon and demigod, enemy of the king. The third bell rang. A guard pointed. "The intruder! Take him!" Catrina grabbed Drogonny's arm. "They know you now. Run." Steel scraped from every scabbard in the hall. The covert path was dead. Now there was only the chamber door ahead and a wall of blades behind.