POV: Lyra.

Later that evening, no one told me there would be a court assembly.

No knock. No summons. Nothing.

Alina burst into my room in a rush of nervous breath and cold hands, fastening my cloak while whispering that the royal court had already gathered in the night garden and I was late.

Not a mistake, I realised.

A message.

They wanted me to walk in last.

They wanted me to feel it.

And gods, I did.

The garden was hauntingly beautiful, ancient and alive. The vines that clung to silver arches pulsed faintly under moonlight, their dark blooms unfolding only for the stars. Torches flickered in glass orbs hung like fruit from enchanted trees. The entire court stood beneath the open sky, surrounded by obsidian statues of fallen gods, the air thick with perfume, smoke, and politics.

They were all here. Every predator in polished silk. The Drayveil bloodline like thorns at the centre of a rose.

My eyes found him instantly.

Caspian.

Standing beneath the moonstone pillar, his cloak a storm of onyx and silver. Regal. Sharp. Distant.

And he wasn’t alone.

Selene stood beside him, too close. Her hand lightly on his forearm, her head tilted as if she belonged there. Her dress clung to her like liquid night, and her visible neckline bore fresh bite marks, perfectly displayed.

Then the ceremonial blade was brought forth.

An obsidian dagger carved with ancient runes, forged to draw vampire blood during the full moon offering. A sacred rite. A symbol of loyalty and power.

The servant approached Caspian, trembling slightly.

“Your Highness, the offering..."

“I know,” Caspian said coolly.

He didn’t reach for the blade.

Instead, he turned slightly to Selene.

And then... slowly... deliberately... he took her hand in his.

A hush fell across the court like falling ash.

Caspian guided her wrist upward with elegant restraint, brushing his fingers over her skin. His eyes didn’t meet mine. He never looked my way. But the intimacy in his movements screamed louder than any declaration.

Selene bared her wrist to the blade like she’d done this before. Like it was a dance they knew too well.

Caspian held her steady.

And she sliced.

Her blood dripped into the moon-silver bowl in slow, crimson droplets.

Thick. Ancient. Powerful.

The scent of it made the air hum.

Caspian released her after a heartbeat too long.

Selene smiled, but not at him.

At me.

Like she’d won something I hadn’t known I was competing for.

And maybe she had.

I stood still, spine straight, throat tight.

My pulse didn't belong to me anymore. Not after that.

Then a shadow slipped in beside me.

Daron.

His scent was different, darker than the others. Not blood. Not steel. Something more forbidden.

“Breathe,” he whispered, almost too gently.

“I am.”

“No,” he said. “You’re drowning.”

I tried to step forward, to walk away but he moved faster.

He caught my hand.

His fingers laced through mine.

The whole court saw it.

And Caspian did too.

Because that was the moment his head lifted, sharp and sudden and his gaze landed squarely on our joined hands.

He didn’t move.

But he didn’t have to.

The hunger in his eyes was cold and brutal. Not for blood.

For control.

Control that was slipping.

Daron leaned closer. His lips were near my ear, but the words were meant for one person only.

“He may have claimed her blood, don't dwell on it...”

His thumb brushed my wrist, deliberate.

“But I wonder who’ll claim yours.”

My breath caught.

Around us, the music began again. Courtiers resumed their games. The queen had not yet arrived. And I suddenly realised I was standing between a man who’d refused me and another who looked ready to burn the world just to make a point.

I pulled my hand back slowly. But the damage was done.

The look Caspian gave Daron wasn’t rage.

It was restrained sharpened to a deadly point.

Then Queen Vireya arrived.

The garden quieted like a spell had settled over it.

Her veil trailed the ground behind her, grey as smoke, her silence commanding. The queen never spoke without meaning, and when her gaze moved across the assembly, it was like being seen by something not entirely mortal.

When her eyes landed on me, my heart stopped.

“Some thrones are shaped like cages,” she said softly, her voice laced with grief and something crueller.

Then she walked on.

Leaving her words like ashes on my skin.

___________

Princess Tayla found me later, at the edge of the fountain. She said nothing at first. Just stood beside me like a shadow that wasn’t sure it belonged.

After a while, she spoke.

“That looked like it hurt.”

“I’ve felt worse.”

“No. You haven’t.”

She sat on the stone tip of the fountain. “You’re still new here. But the court already knows what you are.”

“And what’s that?”

“Something he didn’t choose.”

Her voice wasn’t mocking. Just... honest.

I didn’t reply. There was nothing to say.

“You don’t have to pretend to be steel,” she added. “Even iron bends when fire is involved.”

And then she left me there.

Alone again.

With a wound no one could see.

_____________

That night, I stood on my balcony, arms wrapped around myself.

The stars were too bright, like eyes watching me slowly fall apart.

And from somewhere deep within the palace, beneath the stone, past the relic wall and into the bones of Drayveil.

I felt it. His presence.

Caspian.

Not near me.

Not for me.

But still... there.

And I whispered the name that tasted like a curse laced in sugar.

“Caspian.”