Ella didn’t deny it.
Jakobav angled his head toward her. “I’ll get us two goblets of wine. We can stay out here as long as you want.” His mouth pulled into a slow, unexpected smile. “Forever, if you like.”
Something in her chest softened. “Thank you.”
He gave a brief nod and disappeared inside.
For the first time since stepping into the hall, the air moved through her freely. The balcony was quiet. Open. Real. A place untouched by expectations or watching eyes.
She wasn’t alone for long.
Unsteady footsteps approached.
Caelen emerged from the shadows at the far end of the terrace, the polite façade he’d worn inside nowhere in sight. The lanternlight caught the faint flush along his cheekbones; the wine had settled deep.
“So this is where you’re hiding,” he said.
Ella straightened. “I came out for air.”
“You came out here to avoid him.” Caelen stepped closer, his eyes unfocused but intent. “Interesting.”
She kept her voice level. “Go back inside, Caelen. You’re drunk.”
He laughed—quiet, humorless. “And you’re naïve if you think that matters anymore.”
His expression tightened. Gone was the polished boy she’d once trusted. So was the pleasant courtier. What stood beforeher now was someone adulterated by ambition and bitterness and too much power left unchecked.
“I waited for you,” he said, stopping a breath away. “Years. And you return with him?”
“Jakobav is?—”
“Not the point.” Caelen’s voice dropped lower. “You were promised to Orchid. Promised to me. That is how this kingdom will survive.” His gaze hardened, voice gaining a new severity. “But if you refuse me…Eryndor will be the next to die.”
The world narrowed.
“What did you just say?” Ella whispered.
Caelen leaned in, the wine on his breath harsh and overwhelming now. “I said your father is a liability. And I don’t let liabilities stand in the way of what must be done. Besides—he knows too much.”
Her hand moved toward her blade on instinct, but Caelen was faster, fingers closing around her wrist.
Heat surged instantly beneath his grip. A rising burn that dug into her skin and climbed with dangerous intensity.
Pain surged up her arm. She tried to pull free. His grip only tightened.
“Don’t,” he murmured. “You’ll make this worse.”
Heat pressed deeper, steady and relentless, weakening her knees.
Gods. He might actually kill me.
She’d sensed something different about him, not just his appearance. His Veinfire had grown stronger. That shouldn’t have been possible.
The burn dug past skin and into an agonizing pain. She didn’t know how long she could withstand it before her body gave out.
Behind them, the balcony door opened.
Two goblets slipped from Jakobav’s hands and hit the stone, wine spilling across the floor.
