Page 33 of The Vespertine Treaty

"I don't know," Aemelia admitted, her voice dropping. "He broke containment. His father tried to lock him down, but the guards say he vanished from the estate an hour ago. He’s reckless, Oph. He’s desperate."

"And you look flayed alive, Oph," Aemelia insisted, squeezing my hands. "What was the ritual like? You looked… consumed."

"It was a violation," I choked out, the words ragged. "It was fire and ice, Em. He didn't just touch me, he claimed my silence. He made me feel... his.” My eyes darted away in shame. "And I hated myself because I didn't want it to necessarily stop where it did. I craved the consuming cold of it, Em. I hated myself for craving his darkness."

Aemelia’s expression hardened; the sisterly pity was replaced by fierce, strategic focus. "He's a master manipulator, Ophelia. He's performing his monstrous legend to break your will and fuel hiscore. He is an enemy using seduction as a weapon, and you must treat it like a battlefield injury. Remember the plan. Gather all the knowledge. Don't fall for the facade."

I nodded, recovering my composure. "I know. I need to be better. But be careful, Em. I felt Malathor watching. It seems there is something going on between him and Cain. If you expose Cain’s core instability to a rival, you could expose the entire plot, and that rival could use the instability against Cain, potentially destroying the balance. And you.”

Aemelia gave a sharp, hard nod, her eyes shining with fierce loyalty. "Go. Finish your performance. I'll get back to work. I love you, Ophelia. Always."

I left Aemelia with a final, hard nod and stepped back out into the hall. Cain was waiting ten feet away. He moved instantly, his hand seizing my wrist with the crushing grip of an iron vice.

"You will never leave my sight again," Cain growled, the command sharp and immediate, ignoring the public setting. He began to drag me across the marble floor toward the exit, his anger building like a storm.

We hadn't gone ten feet when a swaying figure stumbled directly into our path.

It was Caspian. His clothes were rumpled, his face was pale, and his aura was thick with cheap liquor and reckless sorrow.

"Lia!" Caspian slurred, reaching out. "You shouldn't be with him! He's a monsturr…"

Cain stopped instantly. I felt the pure, volcanic fury radiating from him, so intense it burned the cold out of my core.

"You dare trespass and look upon what is mine, Valerius? AGAIN?" Cain's voice was a low, terrifying growl that carried no filter.

Caspian lunged. "She doesn't belong to you! She will never belong to a soulless brute like you!"

Cain didn't even flinch. He shed his velvet suit jacket, letting it drop to the floor, leaving him in his dark silk shirt, his broad shoulders filling the archway. He was no longer masked by public composure. He let go of my wrist and moved with the speed of a striking viper, seizing Caspian by the throat.

He didn't just pin him; he slammed him against the nearest column, his hand clamping over Caspian's neck. On his bared forearms, the intricate tattoos began to writhe—liquid shadow pulsing in time with the surge of his Death Touch.

Caspian’s eyes bulged, but he couldn't breathe, let alone scream. His skin began to grey rapidly where Cain’s fingers made contact, a necrotic frost spreading outward.

“I can calibrate my touch, Valerius,” Cain said, his voice terrifyingly conversational. “Right now, I am merely dampening your pulse. A warning. But I can turn the dial. I can rot the marrow in your bones while keeping your heart beating. I can make you feel the decomposition of your own body in real-time.”

Cain’s fingers tightened just a fraction—a microscopic turn of the screw.

Caspian arched his back, a silent, gurgling scream trapped in his throat as his veins turned black under his skin. The agony was absolute. It wasn't physical; it was existential.

"She. Is. Mine," Cain stated, his grey eyes burning with a cold, silver fire. He leaned in, his voice saturated with absolute possessiveness. "She is mine to possess, to command, and to defile. She already bears the Alistair name. You will never see her again, or I will ensure that the Valerius name is irrevocably stripped of its magic."

He released the pressure, just enough to let air return, but kept the terror instilled.

Caspian choked, falling to his knees, clutching his throat as if it were burned, tears streaming down his grey face. "She hates you!"

"Cain, please," I sobbed, stepping forward. "It was nothing! I swear, nothing happened! Let him go!"

A sharp, cruel laugh sliced through the air. My mother stood there, her eyes blazing.

"You disgrace!" Lady Ashworth hissed, her rage tasting like acid in the air. "Talking to him… your golden boy. Again? You are Prince Alistair's chattel! The House of Ashworth cannot survive another scandal. Look at what you made Cain do!"

My mother raised her hand, her silver bracelets flashing. The sharp, cracking sound of her palm across my cheek silenced the air far more effectively than Cain's magic ever could.

The pain was sharp, hot, and humiliating. Tears flooded my eyes.

The air in the room vanished.

Cain dropped Caspian. He didn't look at my golden boy anymore. He turned slowly, his gaze locking onto my mother.The darkness in his eyes was absolute—a Void so deep it threatened to swallow the room.