My knees threaten to buckle.
Trust no one.
“Why are you telling me this, Lord Lucien? What do you get out of it?” My voice sounds small in the crisp night air.
A flicker of vulnerability crosses the visible half of his face. “Because someone needs to warn you of what you’re truly facing.” He pauses. “And because I’ve been alone in the shadows for so long, I forgot what it felt like to hope. Until I saw you in that alley, choosing compassion over safety.”
The ache in his voice makes my chest tight.
“If what you’re saying is true, how do I survive this?” I ask.
“You win.” Command sharpens his tone. “You get every single House leader to vote for you as Solar Sovereign. Not just a majority – all of them. Leave no room for doubt, no opening for your enemies to claim the result is illegitimate.”
Before I can ask how, he steps back toward the shadows.
“I have to go.”
“Wait—” I start.
But he’s already fading. “You have more strength than you know, daughter of the Moon and Sun. Trust yourself.”
Then he’s gone.
I stand alone, pulse hammering, drawing my attention to my physical state.
The withdrawal should be screaming through me … the craving should be unbearable…
Yet, I feel …nothing.
No tremors. No nausea. No desperate ache carved into my bones.
Gone – completely.
I press a hand to my chest, searching for the familiar pain. The ache that’s ruled over me my entire life has vanished like it never existed.
I turn toward where Lord Lucien disappeared. Only darkness and the faint hum of Talis below.
Then I see it.
On the balcony floor, a single red rose.
The petals are perfect, deep crimson that seems to hold inner light. The stem is long and thornless. When I pick it up, warmth spreads through my palm like it’s been infused with living fire.
You have more strength than you know.
I stand there, holding the rose as the calm begins to fracture.
My pulse picks up. Heat floods my face. The tremors return – small at first, then violent.
The craving slams back into me.
I double over, gripping the railing with one hand and clutching the rose in the other. Sweat breaks across my forehead as my stomach lurches.
It was gone … while he was here, the addiction – the withdrawal – was gone…
I stumble back inside, legs unsteady, and sink onto the edge of the bed. The rose rests in my lap, impossibly warm against my thigh.
Outside, the stars burn cold; inside, I shake, trying to understand what just happened.
