I didn’t exactly know where such a place existed—or if it even could. Nyxarra was locked in eternal dusk. I wasn’t sure how anything grew here, let alone bloomed.
My steps were light, careful, drawn by some pull I couldn’t name as I wound down the corridor toward the dining hall. The same hall where Kaelith had announced his intentions only days ago.
The doors were slightly ajar. Torchlight pulsed through the gap, shadows dancing against the stone. I pressed closer, peering inside.
Kaelith stood in the center of the room—shirtless, his body painted with ink and sigils. The markings swam like language across his skin. He moved—fluid, poised, lethal.
He was sparring. I crept inside.
His opponent looked skilled—quick-footed, focused—but fear clung to his movements.
Kaelith disarmed him in one breath, blade flashing with cruel efficiency. Then came a second blade, a shorter one, curved. He drove it into the left of the man’s breastbone. The man’s eyes went wide.
Kaelith pulled him close, sword still embedded, holding him in what might’ve looked like an embrace to anyone watching from afar.
Then he sank his teeth in.
The sound he made was obscene—part growl, part moan, deep and guttural. He drank, his eyes half-lidded with indulgence.
I gasped, the sound catching in my throat as my back struck the edge of a table just inside the doorway. Goblets toppled, clattering against the floor with a dull metallic ring.
Kaelith’s head snapped up.
His gaze met mine across the room, unblinking. I couldn’t have moved even if I wanted to.
Still holding the man against him, he took one final draw before letting the body slide bonelessly to the floor.
Shadows appeared, materializing from the edges of the room. Their eyes glinted as they dragged the corpse into the dark without a word.
“Aurelia, my love,” Kaelith purred as he wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth with his thumb. He slowly sucked the stain from it before he let his hand fall.
“I’m glad to see you’re doing much better,” he said, stepping forward.
I should’ve never left the kitchens.
Because Kaelith had already shown me what he could do. That vision—Aeryn’s heart torn from his chest, his smile wiped from the world—hadn’t felt like a trick. I could still feel his blood on my hands, smell the ash in the air.
It didn’t matter that he hadn’t told me how or when. The message had been clear: Aeryn’s life was a thread, and Kaelith held the shears.
Hopelessness pressed like a weight against my chest, but Iwould not let it win. If I couldn’t fight him head-on, then I’d fight another way.
I would play his game—every move, every beat—until I found a way to cut him down from within. It was the only path I could see that kept Aeryn breathing.
I’d known men like Kaelith. Cloaked in charm, carved in cruelty. Though I’d never been chosen, never marked by any goddess, I’d learned to make my own kind of power. I knew how to wield a blade while dancing on the edge of a predator’s heart.
So I smiled. A slow, careful thing, one I knew didn’t touch my eyes.
“Prince Kaelith,” I said, dipping my head just slightly. “Didn’t expect to find anyone here.” Not entirely a lie. I hadn’t expected to findhim. “I was just… heading to the garden,” I added, feigning casual interest.
I gave him a soft smile, tilting my head in a way I knew drew attention. Flirtation wasn’t armor, not really. But sometimes, it could be a distraction.
Kaelith’s lips curved.
“Call me Kaelith. I’ll walk you,” he said.
He stepped closer, gently sliding my hand through the crook of his arm, guiding it to rest at his bicep. The touch was soft, practiced, but beneath it I felt his strength coiled, waiting.
This wasn’t a partnership. This wasn’t equal footing. Kaelith set the stage, wrote the script, cast me as his bride. But if he thought I would only read my lines, he was wrong.