**Gaia's POV**

The moment we're locked in, I smell it.

Incense. Sweet and cloying, burning in a dish on the nightstand. The scent is too strong, too deliberate. It reminds me of—

My blood runs cold.

Astrein. The night he supposedly betrayed me. He'd been drugged with aphrodisiac.

And now there's incense burning in Lysander's room when he supposedly brought me here drunk.

I lunge for the dish, grabbing it despite the heat burning my fingers, and hurl it ...