Tell Alaric? He would burn the entire castle down. And I didn’t know yet who might get burned by it.
Tell Erindor? He would act, and gods knew I couldn’t bear to see him thrown in chains or struck down for me.
Tell Jasira? She already bore so much. I didn’t want to add my crumbling world to hers.
So what? Carry it alone?
My reflection in the mirror didn’t answer. She stared at me with pale skin, hollow eyes, and dressed in court-perfect gray silk. My hair was braided back today, tightly wound into a severe style. I hadn’t even resisted when the maid styled it that way. I was too busy holding myself together.
I couldn’t stay here any longer; wrapped in silence, wrapped in questions, wrapped in fear that hardened into something brittle behind my ribs.
I found Jasira in the reading nook down the hall, fussing with embroidery she wasn’t really working on. When she looked up, I smiled too quickly.
“I’m going to get some air,” I said. “A small walk.”
She frowned. “Now? Wyn, it’s almost time—”
“I won’t be long,” I murmured, already turning. “I just need to breathe.”
Jasira stood as if she might follow. But then she paused, studying my face.
“Alright,” she said softly. “But breathe smart, okay? Not dramatic.”
I gave a laugh that didn’t reach my chest. “Dramatic? Me? I think you’ve confused me with my brother.”
“You have a terrible card face,” she said, echoing Gideon’s words the day before.
Then she let me go.
I didn’t head toward the gardens. Not the stables. Not even the chapel.
Instead, I wound my way through the lower halls, each footstep louder than the last in the hush of polished marble. I passed servants who barely looked up. A figure in soft shoes and gray lace. No one is worth stopping.
I reached Kaelen’s wing as the bells chimed once overhead, marking the hour like a warning.
My palms were slick, my heart in my throat.
I raised a hand to knock, but the door opened before I touched it.
Kaelen stood in the doorway, his silhouette outlined by velvet and firelight. A flicker of surprise crossed his face, quickly replaced by a satisfied smile.
“Well, well,” he said, his smile slow and practiced. “Are you finally going to sign the contract? Or hoping to get a round in before the wedding?”
His eyes glanced over me, uninvited. “Because I’m not opposed either way.”
“I…I—” I cleared my throat, trying to shove down my trembling voice. “I need to speak with you.”
Kaelen stepped aside with a sweep of his hand, and I entered before I lost my nerve.
The heat hit me first.
Not the comforting warmth of a hearth, but a suffocating heat, heavy and close. The fireplace crackled too high for morning, and the drapes were drawn against the sun. The walls pressed in with velvet and stone, and something in the air smelled sweet, like wine gone sour.
The soft click of the door latch was a period on the suffocating quiet that filled the room. Kaelen strode past me, his attention already elsewhere, and positioned himself at the far end of the solar, methodically adjusting his cuff.
“I was wondering if you’d finally come to your senses,” he said casually.
My stomach twisted into a cold, hard knot. My feet were fixed to the ground just inside the doorway, fingers tightening around the forbidden letters hidden in my sleeve like they might anchor me.
