“Selene,” he breathes, the word a prayer.
He whispers it again, punctuating each iteration with another kiss—first my nose, then each cheek, then my forehead. Whenhis mouth finds mine again, it feels like the world is holding its breath.
Words fail us both beneath the weight of moonlight and memory. His sword clatters to the ground, and he lifts me into his arms. I wrap around him instinctively.
In the ring’s torchlit emptiness, our bodies fit together perfectly. Only the thud of our hearts and the distant cry of a nocturnal bird fill the air.
After what feels like hours of slow kisses and gentle caresses, Keiren rises and offers me his hand. I take it, still unsteady, and together, we follow a narrow path winding away from the ring. Torchlight replaces moonlight as he lifts a flame from the wall sconce, guiding us deeper into the garden where the night grows quiet and secretive.
We stop before a low stretch of crimson flowers, their petals dark as spilled wine.
“What are you doing?” I ask as he lowers the torch.
He doesn’t answer.
Fire rushes across the ground in a controlled sweep, devouring the blooms in a heartbeat. I gasp, stepping forward instinctively. “Keiren—!”
“Wait,” he says softly.
The flames die as quickly as they came, leaving behind blackened earth and curling smoke. My chest aches at the sight—until the ground shudders.
Before my eyes, green shoots pierce the ash. Stems rise, unfurling scarlet petals brighter than before. Where there had been a small patch, dozens bloom now—taller, fuller, radiant against the dark soil.
I stare, breathless.
“The phoenix daisy,” he says quietly. “It only blooms after fire. The harsher the burn, the stronger it returns.”
I sink to my knees, reaching out but not quite touching. The petals radiate living warmth beneath my fingers.
“You brought me here to…?” My voice trails off.
“To remind you,” he says, brushing ash from my hand, “that destruction is not always the end. Some things are made to survive it.”
I lean into him, pressing my cheek to his shoulder. I expect more—words, promises, something heavier. Instead, he simply holds me as we walk among the reborn blooms, the scent of smoke and earth mingling in the air.
A fragile peace settles over me.
Beneath a willow’s sweeping boughs, he drapes his cloak around my shoulders and sits beside me. I tell him about home—about Kat, the arrangement, the lies, the promise I couldn’t keep. He listens without interruption, tracing slow, grounding circles along my arm.
When my voice falters, he kisses my forehead.
“You’re not alone, Selene.”
I really look at him then—the man I once thought a monster. The cursed king of a cursed kingdom.Mykingdom. Yet here, beneath the willow, he’s only a man. And I’m only a woman, breathing through the ache of loving people I cannot save.
“Selene,” he says, drawing me back. His voice softens. “You’re ready.”
Tears slip free. He gathers me close, and this time, when sleep finds me, I don’t fight it.
As the first light of dawn brushes the horizon, I fall asleep in his arms—my heart lighter, my spirit steadied, ready to face the final Trial.
Chapter 40
The Truths We Bury
Ismooth the silken folds of my gown and tug Mariel toward the quiet end of the orchard. Two days of fruitless searching in Keiren’s private library have left us starving for air, for sweetness, for anything that isn’t ink and fear. With the final Trial tomorrow, I begged for one day of mercy, one last day together.
Keiren only smiled, half sorrow, half tenderness, and said,“Enjoy the castle’s finest.”
