My gaze flicks to the royal box. Ryker sits on the throne, but Mael’s seat is empty. He must have chosen not to attend. The council members are there behind him, but not all. Consul Montague is missing from the group.
Ryker’s brows draw together, confusion darkening his expression. I force myself to look back at the magical mirrors. Don’t miss it. Don’t miss the moment.
Mael moves easily around my bedroom, setting two wine glasses on the table. The Divinity Gaze mirror hanging in my receiving chamber, angled just so that, with the door left open, it offered the gods and the Sphere a clear view into my bedroom, into what happened there. Mael must never have considered that letting them witness his cruelty would matter. Countless horrors have played out beneath their gaze, and never once have Gods cared enough to stop or expose them.
I’m not there yet, still in my bathing chamber. A low murmur ripples through the crowd as he slips something into one of the glasses. Apinch of herbs.
Then the mirrors show the rest.
I walk into the room. I speak. The conversation plays out as I remember. Except now, everyone hears it.
And when I finish the first glass, Mael pours another. Adds more herbs, right in front of me while I’m not looking. The crowd is speechless.
The truth is no longer hidden.
Then, when I fall asleep, he leans over and plants that damned kiss on my lips. And just like that, the red string appears.
There’s a collective inhalation from the stands, as if the entire kingdom has just watched something sacred defiled.
And even though it revolts me to watch Mael’s hungry gaze sweeping over me, his hands roaming my body for a few moments longer, a heavy weight lifts from my shoulders as I watch the truth register on Ryker’s face. He finally knows.
And so does everyone else.
Mael leaves my chambers and hurries off somewhere. The silence breaks into chaos as voices erupt. Dozens, then hundreds.
“That’s her room! He drugged her!”
“He lied! He lied to the court!”
I start to climb down, unable to bear standing exposed under the crowd’s gaze any longer. But then I stop, heat prickles along my skin, as if Ryker’s eyes are burning into me.
I look up, and our eyes lock. And in that instant, I see it.
Remorse. Regret. Shame. So much shame.
Slowly, he lifts his hand to his lips, touches them softly, then rubs his fingers together in that old, familiar motion.
And for a breath, I feel his understanding, his belief. Maybe even his acceptance. The thing I once begged for. The thing I thought would fix everything. It’s here now, written across his face. And I feel nothing but the sting of it coming too late.
I thought it would feel like justice. Instead, I feel the last need for him slip away.
That’s what hurts the most. That I’ve stopped needing what I spentso long trying to earn. And somewhere in that realization, a different kind of heartbreak settles in. It’s quiet and final.
Once, this sacred gesture meant everything, a silent kiss sent across the space between us. Now, it feels hollow. As if, in grinding his fingers together, he’s not sending love, but erasing it, crushing the last fragile traces of what we used to be.
I let myself breathe, but it’s a cracked, hollow breath. He’s lost me. And it’s nobody’s fault but his.
People are shouting Mael’s name now. The consuls are on their feet, yelling something. But Ryker doesn’t look at any of them. He only looks at me. And for a moment, it’s like he’s asking if it’s enough. If this remorse will save us.
I’m sorry,he mouths.
A hot tear slips down my cheek. I turn my head away, unable to give him what he came too late to earn. Then, suddenly, silence falls over the arena again.
My eyes snap back up as Ryker rises from his throne, his guards stiffening to attention. Without a word, he turns and strides out of the arena, his consuls following close behind.
No one moves. No one speaks. Even the Sibyls remain frozen, as if the gods themselves have nothing more to say.
But just as Ryker is about to disappear from everyone’s view, the Sibyls’ voices rise, amplified by magic.
