Petal

The door creaked open, and I stepped inside, my pulse beating in my throat. The ceilings were very high, like they were staring down at me—judging me.

At the end of the table was Aslaan, and even in the shadows, his blue eyes sparkled.

With breath in my throat, I settled on the other side of the table.

A servant came and served a portion of Beef and sizzling roasted potatoes.

Aslaan had already begun, almost halfway done with the food before him.

Everything about him made me uneasy. The face— the same yet different. It was like I was before Zoran, yet I wasn’t.

His eyes found mine, and my pulse stuttered.

"What was your relationship with my brother?"

Silence hung in the air, not because I couldn’t answer. But, because I couldn't tell why he was acting like he couldn’t feel it.

Like he couldn’t feel the bond, the quiet hum in my blood that hadn't stopped since I saw him.

But him? Nothing.

"Are you interrogating me?" I asked.

The cutlery clattered as he dropped. “I’ll be honest, I don’t trust you.” His eyes never moved.

"Then why let me stay?"

An empty smile formed on his lips. "You've heard the saying… Keep your friends close…"

"…and your enemies closer,” I said in a low voice.

The air was warm, yet it licked my skin cold.

Funny isn’t it? I always ran to his grave because it promised me protection. It made me feel safe.

But now, sitting before him. His presence didn’t offer safety or comfort. It stripped me of everything. Made me feel bare.

"Why fake your death?"

I was too curious.

Silence, that's all I got.

"Question for question?" I pressed.

I was used to expressionless faces. But there was something about Aslaan’s that stirred a strange chill through my core.

I should have kept quiet. Eat and sleep. But he felt like a ghost.

“There’s a grave. People cry for you,” I said—too bold for my situation.

“Spare me the pretense.” His jaw tightened. “Zoran must have informed you.”

“I’m not a spy.”

Each word scraped out from someplace deep. Not bone. Not blood. Deeper.

"I was taken when the Rogues raided my town. Sold. Your brother’s bought me…”

I couldn’t say the rest out loud. How his brother broke me, and broke my wolf. I held it. The pain. The bile. The sick heat that curled under my ribs.

After a long silence of watching my fingers curl around my cutlery and my jaw ticking, Aslaan leaned into his chair.

"You're a good actress," he said, “I’ll give you that.”

My insides twisted. "I don't care if you trust me or not," I said, "It's not like I trust you either."

I dug into my food, but I kept glancing at him.

And still—no change. Not in his eyes. Not in his scent.

But something pulsed between us. I knew it. I felt it. The bond. The overwhelming want tugging at me all the way from my insides out.

It was utterly disgusting that such a warmth coursed through me. That after everything his brother has put me through, I still wanted him to acknowledge my existence.

When Aslaan was done, he stood. Without uttering a word or even glancing at me he left.

And I sat there, alone, chewing food that tasted like nothing, and telling myself:

Just stay the night, Petal. Just survive for tonight.

……

The next morning came, and I dragged myself out of bed. For a second, I almost believed I was safe.

I took a shower, The water was warm. The towel, clean. The clothes didn't smell like anyone else had worn them. I ate the breakfast someone left for me—eggs, bread, and fruit. I chewed without tasting a thing.

I didn't know what to do with myself. Where to go. What was allowed? But it didn’t matter, my one night was up.

I drank the herbs that Morgan had given me, arranged my bag, hung it over my shoulders, and reached for the door.

But before I pulled the doorknob, the door opened.

And Aslaan stood in the doorway like I owed him my life:

He still acted like he couldn’t feel anything between us. Or could he really not?

He stepped in. Slow. Shut the door behind him and drop to the first chair in sight like it was a throne, spread his legs like a king used to watching people kneel.

Good morning to you, I said internally.

"I've changed my mind," Aslaan said

I stared at him. "Changed your mind about what?"

His expression didn't flicker. He didn't tilt his head. Didn't blink.

"You can stay. For now."

I froze and silence danced between us.

I raised my brows. "And why?" I said slowly, "Would you offer that?"

Aslaan leaned back in the chair, elbows resting on the arms. But he didn't answer me. He just watched, his eyes lingering on me longer than usual

Those cold blue eyes fixed on mine like he was trying to see into me. Like he was looking for proof I wasn't who I said I was.

"Because I can," he said again, quieter this time. Like it was a prayer. Or a warning.

My heart hammered in my chest. Harder than it should. Faster than it should. The way it does when prey hears a twig snap.

My hand stayed near the table. Not because I thought I'd need to defend myself—but because I didn't know if I could trust my legs to keep standing.

"And what do you want in return?" I asked.

He didn't answer that either. He just sat there, studying me. It was as though he hadn't decided what I was yet. And until he did—I wasn't safe.

“Follow me, let’s discuss,” Aslaan said, rising to his feet.

I licked my lips, and swallowed hard, trying to dislodge the lump in my throat.

Hesitantly, I followed behind.

My stomach curled with an unpleasant sensation.

In the stillness of the corridor that stretched before us, all I could hear was my heartbeat.