I moved slowly, each step pulling me toward the elevated dais where my father’s seat loomed like a throne carved from night itself. My place waited beside him—ornate, and cold.
As I passed beneath the arched entryway, my gaze drifted—drawn not to the dancers, but to the alcove near the wine table, where decanters of dark vintage bled into crystal goblets. Lucas stood there, grinning, his arm slung loosely around Sera’s waist as she laughed behind her hand. They looked untouched by all of this—by duty, by masks, by everything that made me feel like I couldn’t breathe.
His eyes found mine across the room, gleaming with mischief and warmth, as if nothing had changed between us. As if I wasn’t wearing a crown made of ash and expectation. And for a moment, I envied them—not just their laughter, but the freedom that allowed it.
And then, like a flame flickering to life, a pair of dark green eyes surface in my thoughts.
Casper.
I don’t want to think about him, but he’s there, lingering at the edges of my mind like a shadow I can’t escape. The memory of how he made me feel—untethered, like I could finally breathe—slips in before I can stop it. It’s fleeting, but it’s enough. Enough to make my chest tighten, enough to make my eyes instinctively search the room.
I scan the dark corners, hoping for a glimpse of him. His absence is heavy, the chasm vast and unbearable. And yet, I long for him—crave how he made me feel seen and safe in a way I had never known, never dared to want.
Jason’s sudden movement pulls me from my thoughts.
“Dance with me,” he commands, extending his hand with an air of authority, leaving no room for refusal.
I hesitate for a brief moment, glancing toward the throne, at the man seated atop it, cloaked in power. My father’s eyes meet mine, and he nods, an expectant smile tugging at his lips. I hold his gaze before turning to Jason, still standing with his arm outstretched.
I smile, not out of desire but out of duty, and place my hand in his.
He guides me toward the heart of the marble floor, his touch steady, as though offering silent reassurance. The crimson fabric of my gown shifts with each step, parting just enough to reveal more of my skin. I catch his eyes trailing over me before his jaw tightens, restraint flashing across his face.
When we reach the floor, Jason leans closer, his voice soft and warm.
“You look beautiful tonight, Lailah. Breathtaking, actually.”
“Thank you,” I reply quietly, my tone betraying none of the turmoil brewing inside me.
His hand rests lightly on the small of my back as he leads me into the first steps of the dance.
“Are you nervous for tomorrow?” he asks after a beat, his voice low, careful, almost hesitant.
I don’t respond, my gaze fixed somewhere over his shoulder, my body moving with his purely out of obligation. Jason exhales softly, the sound barely audible, but I can feel the frustration simmering beneath his calm exterior.
“It must be nice having Lucas here,” he observes, his voice softer, as though trying to coax me into speaking.
I nod once, curt and dismissive, the silence growing heavier with each passing second. His grip on my waist shifts, his fingers pressing just a little more firmly, as though grounding himself.
“Are you even going to look at me?”
The question hits hard, and my gaze snaps to his. For the first time since he kissed me, I truly look at him—at the golden warmth of his eyes, now tinged with regret, at the subtle tightness in his jaw that betrays the weight he’s carrying. His brows draw together as if he feels the full brunt of my hurt, and his jaw clenches, the slightest hint of shame breaking through his composure.
“Lailah,” he breathes, his voice cracking under the strain of the moment. The way he looks at me—it’s almost enough to make me falter.Almost.
The doors to the throne room creak open, and the sound pulls my attention away from him like a lifeline. My breath catches in my throat as my gaze shifts, drawn instantly to the man entering the room.
Casper.
He moves like a shadow given form, a darkened prince of the night whose every movement speaks of peril. His satin tunic, slightly parted at the collar, reveals the edge of a tattoo that seems to whisper of secrets too perilous to know. The thick, heavy sole of his boots echoes through the hall with each step, a cadence that seems to hush the room as his presence fills it. His dark hair, pushed back in perfectdisarray, frames his clenched jaw. And then, his eyes—deep green and smoldering—find mine, and the breath leaves my lungs.
It’s like being caught in a snare I can’t escape, though I don’t want to. A fleeting ache burns through me. It’s as if my body is bound to his by an invisible thread, pulled toward him without my permission. But before I can take a step toward him, his hand lifts, entwined with another’s.
A woman steps forward at his side, and the air in the room seems to shift around her. She is striking, with sun-kissed bronze skin that glows under the chandeliers, smooth and unblemished like polished gold. Her sleek, dark brown hair falls in a gleaming curtain down her back, catching the light with every movement she makes. Her narrowed gaze sweeps across the room as though she’s evaluating everyone in it and finding them lacking.
Her dress is as commanding as her presence, a sleek, fitted gown of deep black silk that clings tightly to her figure. The neckline plunges just enough to be daring without losing its elegance, while the cut of the dress accentuates her curves with precision. High slits run along either side of the gown, revealing the smooth expanse of her thighs as she walks, her every movement fluid. The fabric shimmers faintly, adding to the impression that she belongs to the shadows she seems to command.
I feel something stir deep within me as I watch her, a woman whose presence at Casper’s side is too easy, too natural. An unsettling sensation takes root, spreading like cold fingers that grip and tighten, leaving me aching.
