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“It’s cheating!” I yelled, swatting his shoulder. “No wonder I can never get the drop on you. I’m tearing myself apart trying to beat you at full speed while you’re literally freezing time?”

“I’m keeping you sharp,” he murmured, a corner of his mouth twitching upward in a slow, infuriating smirk as he reached up to comfortably catch my wrist, tugging me back down against him.

He lay there looking up at me from his pillows, completely at ease, having just handed me a safe, noble house secret while keeping the real weirdness of the night locked away. He gave me just enough to win the argument, leaving me to stare down at him and wonder what else the High Captain was hiding behind those cold blue eyes.

I pushed myself out of the furs, the cool morning air hitting my bare skin as my feet touched the cold slate floor. I swept my gaze across the room, tracking the path of destruction from last night until my eyes landed on the ruined white silk gown crumpled near the desk. I grabbed the thin fabric, shaking out the tangled silver chains, and hastily tossed it back over my head.

The silk was wrinkled, the hem slightly frayed, and it molded to my curves in a completely inappropriate display for a morning. I glanced toward the vaulted window, tracking the sharp angle of the sun against the peaks. Panic hit my chest.

“Hell,” I muttered, running my hands through my chaotic copper-red waves. “I don’t have time. If I try to run back to my own room, we’ll be completely late. I can’t walk into the Great Hall looking like this.”

A low laugh rumbled from the bed. I spun around to find Caspian leaning back against the headboard, his bare chest exposed, watching my frantic movements with quiet amusement. He reached over to the heavy wooden chair beside the bed, hooked his fingers through the collar of his massive black leather jacket, and tossed it straight to me.

I caught the thick leather, the familiar scent of winter pine and worn leather instantly wrapping around me.

“Stop pacing, Trouble,” Caspian murmured, his sapphire eyes raking down my frame with lingering heat. “No one is going to care what you’re wearing today. Half the court is currently waking up face-down in the valley grass. By the time they gather for brunch, every single one of them will be profoundly hungover, still wearing whatever torn scraps of festival clothing they have left from midnight.”

He slid out of the bed, his broad frame moving with a slow, predatory grace as he crossed the floor toward me. He stopped inches away, his physical heat blocking out the morning chill as he took the lapels of his jacket, pulling the heavy black leather tight around my shoulders to completely obscure the translucent silk beneath. His gaze darkened, a fierce flash of possessiveness locking onto my eyes as his jaw set.

“Though, if it were up to me,” he growled softly, his lips brushing the skin of my temple, “you would only ever dress like this for me. I have zero intention of sharing the sight of you unraveled with the rest of this court.”

A sharp knock rattled against the door, slicing through the quiet of the room.

My cheeks flushed a deep, furious red. Panic thrummed beneath my chest as I instinctively pulled the lapels of Caspian’s jacket tighter around my neck. I steadied my breathing, my mind racing. I was not ready for anyone to know what we had done last night—or what this even meant. A solstice mistake? A bond between two dangerous fae? The political fallout of a traitor’s son claiming a royal placeholder would destroy whatever fragile standing I had left in this court.

Caspian, however, showed zero hesitation.

He slipped back into his dark trousers unbothered by the sudden intrusion. He walked toward the threshold, reaching out to hurl the door open while simultaneously pulling his heavy leather boot up his calf.

Soren stood in the archway, his eyes wide with impatience. “You’re usually patrolling the lower rings by dawn, Cas. I was beginning to think you’d been taken out by a—”

Soren’s voice cut off cleanly as his gaze slid past Caspian’s broad shoulder, peering directly into the shadow-drenched bedroom until his eyes locked onto me. I stood frozen by the headboard, a disheveled mess wearing nothing but a ruined white silk gown and the Captain’s jacket.

A slow, knowing smirk crept onto Soren’s face, a sharp spark dancing behind his pupils. “Ah. Well. It seems you had an exceptionally eventful solstice night, Cas.”

My face burned an even deeper crimson. Caspian ignored the tease entirely, his sharp features settling into an impenetrable wall of military ice as he straightened to his full height.

“Cut the commentary, Soren,” Caspian growled, his deep voice slicing through the tension. “What do you need?”

Soren’s smirk vanished, his posture instantly snapping back into rigid formality. “The King has called an emergency council briefing. Your presence is commanded in the war room immediately, along with Prince Aerynn and High Commander Manem. They are already assembling. We are to report without delay.”

A cold spike of dread dropped into my stomach at the mention of my father’s sudden command on the morning after the solstice. Before I could even ask what the King could possibly want at this hour, Caspian turned back to me.

He didn’t offer a formal explanation. He stepped into my space, tilted his head down, and pressed a firm possessive kiss against my forehead. The heat of his lips burned against my skin—a silent anchor amidst the sudden rush of reality.

“I’ll meet you at brunch in the Great Hall, Trouble,” he murmured against my skin, his sapphire eyes locking onto mine with absolute intensity. “Don’t be late.”

Without waiting for a reply, he turned on his heel. His heavy boots struck the cold slate in a synchronized, lethal rhythm as he marched down the dark corridor alongside Soren, his broad shoulders disappearing into the castle shadows without looking back.

TWENTY-SIX

Ipushed through the arched entry of the Great Hall, profoundly thankful for the few exclusive privileges that came with royal blood. While the rest of the court dragged themselves through the damp valley grass as the solstice wrapped up in the muddy fields below, Aerynn and I were granted the sanctuary of the high tiers. Our small circle was permitted to gather in the stone warmth of the hall, away from the prying, hungover eyes of the lesser houses.

The vaulted room smelled heavily of roasted boar, rosemary potatoes, and the stale, sharp tang of last night’s spilled wine. I scanned the long mahogany table and spotted Rhea sitting at the far end, completely abandoned by her usual sharp military discipline.

She was gripping her head tightly with both hands, her eyes squeezed shut as if the morning light filtering through the stained glass were a physical assault. Her usually pristine dark braid had been recklessly wrestled into a chaotic bun, and the white silk dress she’d worn last night was noticeably ripped at the shoulder and frayed along the hemline.

As my footsteps caught her attention, she blinked her eyes open. A faint, relieved smile touched her face—until her gaze dropped to my shoulders.