POV: Caspian.

I didn’t mean to follow her.

But the scent pulled me anyway.

From the shadows beyond her chamber door. Through the corridors she wandered when she thought no one watched. Past the relic wall, she paused when she neared it, the one that pulsed when she touched it.

And now, here. Just outside her balcony, cloaked in wind and silence, I listened to her breathe.

Slow and uneven.

Not afraid.

Why wasn’t she afraid of me?

I’d kissed her and nearly lost control. Bitten a woman I didn’t care for and nearly burned from the inside. My curse was tightening like a noose, and still... still my body called to hers.

“The scent calms you,” Vaelith whispered.

“She is balm and blade. You were never meant to resist her.”

I clenched my fists.

She lay in my bed last night, her scent still lingering on the sheets, sweet and soft like crushed violets and warmth after rain. It wasn’t supposed to be comforting. I hated comfort.

But gods, I wanted to bury myself in it.

I didn’t go in. I refused to.

I watched her instead, let her presence bleed into the storm inside me until it stilled. Just for a heartbeat.

Then I vanished into the dark, like the coward I was.

The next morning, I didn’t feed.

My body throbbed with unrest. Bloodlust curled like smoke beneath my skin. I could hear heartbeats through the stone, the rustle of fabric from servants down the hall.

And I could smell her.

She was in the eastern corridor now, speaking to Tayla.

Even her voice burned through me, steady, curious and laced with something innocent and unknowingly bold.

I couldn’t take it.

By nightfall, I forced myself toward the great hall. I would not feed. Not tonight. Not if it meant seeing her again.

But someone else had other plans.

“Brother,” came a voice far too smooth.

Daron.

He stepped from the far archway, golden cup in hand, dressed in crimson robes that barely followed any rules. “You’ve been... invisible lately.”

“Don’t start,” I warned.

“I’m not starting. Just observing.” He tilted his head. “You know, it’s unlike you to avoid your bride. She's been wandering, alone. Curious little thing.”

I didn’t answer. My jaw tightened.

Daron smiled wider, and it wasn’t kind. “She smells like spring. Fresh and untouched.”

I moved so fast, his goblet clattered to the floor.

One hand at his throat. My eyes flared.

He didn’t flinch.

“Oh good,” he whispered, voice rough, “so you have noticed.”

I released him before I snapped his neck.

He coughed once, adjusting his collar. “You think I’m the danger? Brother, you’re the one leaving scent trails behind like a lovesick wolf.”

“I’m nothing of that sort.”

“Aren’t you?” Daron stepped closer again, this time with a whisper of mock concern. “Because if I were you, I’d keep her close. Pretty things don’t last long here.”

That night, I found myself outside her chamber again.

I didn’t knock. Didn’t speak. I simply stood there like a ghost, listening.

And then she did it, she laughed.

Light. Soft. From within.

It wasn’t meant for me. She was speaking to Tayla again, likely unaware that her joy struck harder than any blade.

My heart. The cursed, god-haunted, dormant thing inside me twitched.

I needed control.

So I went where I shouldn’t again.

Selene’s chambers were warm and too perfumed.

She greeted me with a smile already in place, as if she’d known I’d break.

“My prince,” she purred, fingers brushing my chest. “Back so soon?”

I didn’t answer. I didn’t need to.

She tilted her head, offering her throat.

I bit down.

The pain was instant.

Worse than before.

Fire. Acid. Blinding rejection.

I staggered back, nearly collapsing. Selene gasped, clutching her throat where blood now dripped in crimson lines.

“You...” she hissed. “What is wrong with you?”

I didn’t speak.

I couldn’t.

All I saw was her. Lyra. Glowing behind my eyes like a balm I couldn’t reach.

I left Selene bleeding on silken sheets and vanished into the night again.

I didn’t return to my chambers.

I returned to the one place in the palace that still remembered who I was, the chamber beneath the relic.

The walls whispered here.

The stones were older than the palace itself. Fused with enchantments Elira herself had forged centuries ago. My mother. The goddess. The flame.

Her magic still lingered and in the silence, I could feel her grief. Her warning.

“You were cursed to destroy... but not her.”

Somewhere above me, Lyra slept.

And I... could not.

I didn’t go to her that night.

Or the next.

Not because I didn’t want to.

Because I did.

But I needed space.

Not to heal.

To harden.

Because the closer she came...

The more certain I became of one thing:

She wouldn't survive the hunger growing dangerously within me.

_____________

POV: Daron.

The servant girl’s eyes widened when I appeared at her side.

Alina.

She was plain, loyal and perfect.

And she served Lyra faithfully.

I leaned close as I handed her the coin pouch. “When the time comes,” I said softly, “you’ll open the door. Nothing more.”

Her hands trembled. “She trusts me...”

I smiled. “Then it will be easy.”

She hesitated, only for a moment before nodding.

Good.

Even Caspian wouldn't protect her. Not from this. Not from me.

And when the trap finally snaps shut...

She will never even see it coming.