I shift, fingers knotting together. “And when you slipped from the cliff side—I pushed. I didn’t even know I was doing it. But I shoved the energy forward, and it helped you catch the ledge.”
His thumb moves in slow circles over my knuckles. “And does Ezra know?”
“He’s been trying to help me understand it. I don’t have control over it. Not yet. Ezra says the magic hasn’t truly been released. That it’s seepingthrough. Breaking me from the inside. Because sometimes…”
Dante’s eyes narrow. “Sometimes what?”
“Sometimes, when I use the magic, it… hurts me. My head gets this pressure, a sharp pain behind my eyes. And today, after I pushed out the energy, I had a nosebleed. It felt like my mind was unraveling.” I meet his gaze.
Dante goes still.
His gaze sweeps over my face as if trying to see the damage, to catch every ripple of fear beneath the surface. His hand tightens around mine.
“You shouldn’t use it again,” he says softly, but there’s steel beneath the words. “Not until Ezra understands more. Not until we know it won’t harm you.”
“Dante—”
“Not even for me.” His voice drops even lower, his brow furrowed in a way that makes my chest ache. “I can’t stand the thought of you hurting, especially because you’re trying to protect me. I’d rather fall from every cliff in Podrosa than make you bleed again.”
My breath catches, and I try to ease the tension with a half-smile. “You know you can’t tell me what to do.”
He doesn’t smile back. He leans in, his voice a quiet command. “Celeste, I’m serious. You bleed for no one.”
I blink.
The room feels too still, like even the fire is frozen in place.
I don’t answer, but inside, my answer is already clear.
There is no universe in which I’ll sit idly by if he’s in danger. I’ll bleed. I’ll burn. He just doesn’t get to know that yet.
The floorboard creaks, and we both start slightly as Indira steps back in with a tray balanced in her hands, steam curling from the teacup perched neatly at the center.
She sets it down with a softclink, her eyes flicking between us, taking in the closeness, the weight of the silence. “King Silas is looking for you,” she says to Dante, her voice clipped. “He didn’t sound particularly patient.”
Dante sighs, then rises, but not before he gives my hand a gentlesqueeze.
“Get some rest,” he says, his thumb brushing against my knuckles. “And don’t forget what I said.”
He turns and disappears through the doorway, the corridor swallowing him up.
Indira watches him go, then lifts the teacup from the tray and hands it to me.
I blow on the brown liquid before taking a sip. Immediately, my face twists. “It’s worse than I imagined.”
She doesn’t laugh, but her lips twitch. “Drink up, Your Highness. It was a rough day, but our time in Podrosa has only just begun.”
ChApter
Twenty-Five
Asharp, blaring horn shatters the stillness of the night. I jolt upright in bed, heart pounding, the distant sound cutting through the stone walls like a blade. For a breath, I wonder if I imagined it, until it comes again, long and urgent, followed by the rapid clang of bells. Not just an alert. An alarm.
Something is wrong.
I throw the covers aside and scramble to my feet, my pulse quickening. Across the room, the moonlight spills in thin, silver streaks through the tall windows. The walls, so still and austere during the day, seem to hum with unseen tension now. The steady rhythm of boots hitting stone grows louder as I snatch my dagger from the belt I left on the chair. My fingers curl tightly around the hilt as another horn blast shudders through the air.
The full moon casts a cold, silver glow over the palace grounds, where torchlight flickers wildly against the stone walls. Beyond the towering gates, dark figures race through the fields, their movements swift and unnatural.
