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I didn’t want this…Did I?

High above the trees, the three moons bled silver light into the forest. The pre-festival energy of LunaStiya hung thick in the air, a quiet pull demanding surrender.

The festival it had to be the energy of the festival…

I didn’t say a word. I looked at the sharp lines of his face, watching his expression as he tilted his head, his lips hovering an inch from mine.

Then he closed the gap.

It wasn’t a hesitant, courtly kiss. It was an intense, heavy claim that cut straight through the defenses I’d built since stepping through the portal. His lips were warm, tasting of cold rain and dark wine, pressing into mine with a quiet ferocity.

I didn’t step back.

I wanted to but I couldn’t get my body to move.

My fingers tightened against his leather vest, gathering the material as the tension we’d been dancing around for weeks finally snapped. I leaned into the solid frame of his chest, my heart thudding wildly in my ears. For a second, the rest of the keep faded into background noise, leaving only the dark woods and the weight of his arms around me.

CRACK.

A sharp, sudden snap of a dry branch echoed through the trees a hundred yards to the west.

The moment broke instantly. Mal pulled back, his eyes widening as his head whipped toward the sound. The ease vanished, replaced by the rigid posture of a soldier on alert.

“Go,” Mal whispered, his tone dropping into a flat, urgent command. “Get back to your room, Tauriel. Now.”

Before I could answer, he moved—disappearing into the dark brush with terrifying speed, leaving no trace, no sound, nothing but the empty woods.

I stood there for a long moment, my lips burning, my head spinning as I turned back toward the fortress.

I took three steps before my eyes caught a seam in the white fog near the tree line.

Standing perfectly still at the edge of the clearing was a broad, heavy silhouette.

Caspian.

My breath seized. Steam rose faintly from his boots—he should have been miles away at the stables on the lower road, wrapping up a late patrol of the outer gates.

He didn’t yell. He didn’t draw a blade. But those piercing blue eyes locked onto mine with a raw, calculated fury that turned my blood to ice—as if he could read the exact shape of the ghost we’d just left in the air. His jaw was clenched so hard a muscle ticked beneath his skin, his gaze sliding from me to the empty space where Mal had stood only a heartbeat before.

Before I could utter a word, Caspian turned on his heel. He didn’t look back. He simply marched into the thick white fog, his boots silent against the moss as his shadow dissolved into the gloom.

“Caspian!” I gasped, the name tearing from my throat.

I twisted out of the clearing, my boots skidding on the damp needles as I lunged forward into the dark after him. If he walked away like this—if he carried that unreadable fury back to the citadel—it wouldn’t just wreck whatever fragile truce was forming between us. It would ruin everything. I needed him sharp, cold, and entirely focused to prepare me for the obsidian sand. If his temper turned him into a brick wall instead of a teacher, my entire timeline collapsed.

NINETEEN

The stone corridors of the residential tier were a blur of organized chaos by mid-morning.

Servants moved in constant, hushed waves past the vaulted arches, their arms piled high with silver gossamer veils, heavy garlands of winter-berry, and copper trays laden with spiced elixirs. The usual strict military discipline of the keep had dissolved, replaced by a restless energy. The winter solstice had arrived, bringing the wild promise of LunaStiya.

Three paces behind me, Soren’s heavy boots clicked rhythmically against the slate. He carried himself with his usual steady poise, but his dark eyes constantly scanned the passing servants. He wasn’t supposed to know about the gap I’d worked into his ward last night, or the cold rain still lingering on my lips.

Soren, however, wasn’t a blind guard.

“Your stride is off, Princess,” he murmured, his low voice barely carrying over the crackle of the wall sconces. He didn’t break formation, but his gaze flicked to the side of my face. “You’re walking like someone who fought a war in her sleep, and you’ve checked the hallway behind us three times since we left your room. Care to tell me why my wards felt thin right before dawn?”

“A bad nightmare and a cold floor,” I lied smoothly, keeping my eyes fixed straight ahead. It wasn’t fully a lie though. The nightmare just happened to be real—kissing Mal with Caspian watching. And it was cold outside near the stone… “And if your wards felt thin, Soren, it’s probably just the court’s collective malice trying to bleed through the stone. You don’t need to overthink it.”