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Soren paused, looking back down at the shimmering lake.

“But the part that broke him,” Soren whispered, “is that it all happened on LunaStiya. The mages conducted the executions while the rest of the continent was deep in the solstice festival. Because ancient law dictates that the festival cannot be interrupted for an execution, Caspian had to stand in those chains and watch his family’s blood pool on the stone while the music from the upper galleries echoed through the courtyard. He watched the court dance on the blood of his people, the fae wine amplifying their dark desires into a frenzied, drunken blur, so lost to the revelry that it wasn’t until the following morning that they realized they were doused in blood.”

An absolute, heavy silence reclaimed the terrace.

I looked down at the steaming lake, the warm summer illusion suddenly looking like a dark, macabre stage. I finally understood the icy distance in his eyes. I understood why he called me Trouble, why he drove me to exhaustion on the mats, and why he refused to let me settle for pity. He didn’t see a fragile princess when he looked at me. He saw someone caught in the exact same violent machine that had torn his youth apart.

The pale light of the sun vanished behind the western peaks, and the dark of the winter solstice settled over the spires. High above the valley, the three silver moons split the horizon, their heavy light bleeding across the stone like liquid mercury. The longest night of the year had arrived, and the countdown to the sand continued to tick—but as I turned back toward the dark corridors, all I could see was the ghost of a boy watching the court dance while his world burned.

TWENTY

The bath salts stung in the split skin of my knuckles, a sharp reminder that the Fae had no concept of gentleness.

For an hour, the handmaids had scrubbed every inch of my body until my skin burned pink. Winter solstice tradition demanded it. Before stepping onto the festival grounds, before giving yourself over to the three moons, you entered raw. No leather armor to hide a stuttering pulse. No heavy velvet to mask a defensive spine. Just skin, bone, and whatever reckless desire you were foolish enough to carry into the dark.

They pulled me from the steaming water, the humid air heavy in my lungs. They didn’t bother with a towel; solar silk didn’t need one. The magical weave drank in moisture on contact, using the water on skin to mold the fabric like a second layer. They wiped away the worst of the drips before dropping the glowing white gown over my head.

The material was unforgiving. Thin and entirely structureless, it clung everywhere it touched, holding the dampness until the silk turned nearly translucent across my thighs and lower back. It was built for a single purpose: to hide nothing. The cool draft off the balcony made my skin prickle through the cloth. I looked down, a quiet insecurity tightening my throat at how little the fabric left to the imagination. I felt exposed—a prize wrapped in white mist, waiting for the vipers to circle.

They draped silver chains across my torso, the metal clicking softly as it framed my hips. Moonstones rested against my collarbones, catching the three moons’ light through the glass. They laced silver threads around my bare ankles and toes—bottomless sandals that left my soles flat against the freezing granite. My copper-red waves pinned back in intricate twists, the rest left to fall over my shoulders.

I stared at my reflection, Soren’s words from the terrace echoing in my head. He watched them dance on the blood of his people. The memory of Caspian’s history hung heavy in the room, warring with the lingering ghost of Mal’s mouth against mine in the woods. Tonight, the court was turning lawless, and I was stepping straight into the center of it.

A heavy knock rattled the oak door, making me jump. My hand twitched toward my hip out of habit, but my fingers brushed only silver chains.

I crossed the room, my bare feet quiet against the floor, and pulled the door open.

Behind me, a sudden rustle of linen broke out as the six handmaids dropped their brushes and oils. They fled through the threshold in a terrified blur, scattering down the corridor like birds running from a hawk before I even saw who was standing outside.

The figure in the doorway wasn’t a guard. It was Caspian.

And the sight of him stopped the air in my chest.

White was the traditional color of the solstice, but seeing him stripped of his usual black velvet and scuffed leathers was a shock. He looked imposing—a sharp, dangerous contrast wrapped in pale cloth.

He wore a loose tunic of heavy white solar silk that hung broad across his shoulders. The sleeves were rolled to his elbows, exposing the corded muscle of his forearms and the dark labyrinth of Ilasari tattoos tracing his skin. The front was open in a deep line down to his waist, revealing the hard planes of his chest and stomach. The black ink wound across his collarbones and disappeared beneath the band of his white trousers.

I couldn’t look away. The bright fabric made the dark markings look razor-sharp.

The things I would do…

Caspian didn’t offer a greeting. His blue eyes swept over me—tracking the thin silk and the silver chains at my waist—before locking onto mine. He extended a broad, calloused hand into the space between us.

Without thinking, I reached out and slid my palm into his.

Like calling to like. Broken calling to broken. The midnight ink trailing my body hummed under my skin as if it couldn’t get enough of his touch.

His fingers closed around mine, laced tight and warm. He turned, and I followed him down the corridor, the silver chains around my toes clicking against the stone.

It took three flights down the grand staircase before my brain caught up with my feet.

“Soren...” I cleared my throat, my voice low in the quiet stairwell. “Soren said you wouldn’t be down here tonight. He said you hated the solstice.”

Caspian didn’t slow his stride, his profile carved in hard lines against the torchlight.

“I always attend the opening rites to pay formal respects to the King,” he said, his gravelly voice low. “I stand before the throne, ensure the crown acknowledges Ilasari, and step away before the court loses its mind. Tonight is no different.”

I wanted to ask him to stay, to dance with me, to lose himself with me. But even I could see how selfish that would be…