Thaine's expression shifted into something delighted and sharp. He looked at Briar with raised eyebrows. “Should I tell him, or would you like to?”
"What?" Arion looked between them. "What does that mean?"
"Tell him, little rabbit," Thaine said softly, savoring the moment. "Tell him about the choice you already made. Before Malus. Before the hunt. Tell him how you'd decided to stay."
"Briar?" Arion turned to her fully now, confusion clear in his features.
The room felt too small, the air too thick. Both men were staring at her—Thaine with that knowing smirk, Arion with growing bewilderment. The weight of having to explain that she'd chosen to remain with Eliam was too much.
"I can't—" She shook her head, already moving toward the door. "I can't do this."
"Briar, wait!"
She turned and fled, ignoring Arion calling after her, ignoring Thaine's low chuckle. Her bare feet slapped against the cold floor as she ran through the Star Court's corridors, not knowing where she was going, just needing to be away from questions she couldn't answer and truths she couldn't speak.
The hunt would end at dawn, and she still didn't know what choice she would make when it did.
Chapter five
The Star Court's architecture favored light with broad windows, open archways, spaces designed to capture and hold the sun. But even here, shadows gathered. Briar found herself in one such place, an alcove between two pillars where morning light hadn't yet reached, where she could press her back against cool stone and try to make sense of the chaos in her chest.
Eliam had wanted to come for her. The knowledge sat like a coal beneath her ribs, burning in ways she couldn't name. He'd wanted to find her, but Thaine had stopped him. For politics. For appearances. For all the cold, calculated reasons that governed the Forest Court.
But he wouldn't have needed to come after her if he hadn't cast her out to begin with.
The thought circled back, inevitable as gravity. He'd thrown her to the wolves in front of the entire court. Made her prey. Watched her run.
But he wouldn't have cast her out if she hadn't freed Malus.
Another turn of the wheel. She'd released his captive brother, the monster who'd usurped his throne once before. She'd betrayed him in the most fundamental way possible.
But if he'd just given her a chance to explain—
Her fingers pressed against her temples, trying to quiet the endless spiral. If he'd listened. If she'd been honest about Thomas from the beginning. If Ferria hadn't manipulated her. If, if, if.
"There you are."
She looked up to find Arion at the alcove's entrance, relief evident in the way his shoulders dropped slightly at the sight of her. He moved closer, and the morning light caught in his pale hair, making him look like something painted rather than real.
"I'm sorry," she said automatically. "I shouldn't have run."
"You had every right to." He said, stopping just within arm's reach. His hand rose, hesitated, then gently tucked a strand of her tangled hair behind her ear. The gesture was so careful, asking permission even as he completed it.
She waited for him to ask about Thaine's revelation, about her choosing to stay with Eliam. Instead, his eyes searched hers with unexpected softness.
"Do you remember the night we danced?" His voice was quiet. "When you kissed me?"
The question hit her unexpectedly, emotion flooding through her so suddenly she could only nod, her gaze dropping to the floor between them. She remembered the music, the way he'd moved with her, the desperate hope that maybe she'd found an ally, someone who might help her escape. And then the kiss—impulsive, searching, trying to feel something other than the constant pull toward Eliam.
"I can't explain it," Arion said, his voice carrying something raw she'd never heard from him before. "In that moment, I would have done anything to protect you. To keep you from falling victim to more cruelty at Eliam's hands."
Her heart ached at the words, but not just from gratitude or affection. A small, shameful part of her wished he had. Wished he'd swept her away that night, taken the choice from her hands. Maybe then things wouldn't have gotten so complicated. Maybe then her heart wouldn't feel like it was being pulled in opposite directions, tearing down the middle.
His finger hooked gently under her chin, coaxing rather than forcing. Such a different touch than she was used to—where Eliam would have gripped her jaw, made her meet his eyes, Arion simply suggested, waited for her to choose.
She let him guide her gaze up to his.
"Whatever choices you made before," he said softly, "whatever you did in desperation to survive—none of that matters to me. You did what you had to do." His thumb brushed along her jaw, the touch feather-light. "All that matters is what you choose now, without the fear of punishment. Without coercion."
