The fire between them hadn't died.
But neither had the silence.
After their night in the bathhouse, Damian hadn't said a word. No whisper in the morning. No lingering touch. Just distance — heavy, deliberate.
Ariana dressed herself alone, her body still aching from his mouth… and his absence.
He uses me like a fire he can't control, she thought. But he never stays to tend the ashes.
Outside, the castle was in bloom — roses, orchids, gold-flushed lilies — but Ariana felt nothing but frost.
Then came the letter.
Delivered by a royal guard, sealed with the crest of House Veyl.
Damian had hidden it.
She found it slipped beneath his cloak in the war chamber.
Unopened.
He never told me they wrote…
Her hands trembled. Her name was on the scroll — not his.
She tore it open.
"To our daughter, Ariana Veyl — we beg forgiveness for the silence. There is much you do not know. We will come for you. Soon."
The ink blurred as tears filled her eyes.
And that's when Selene appeared, like a snake summoned by sorrow.
"He was always going to betray you," she said softly.
"You don't know anything."
"Don't I?" Selene held up another scroll — this one crumpled, worn. "He asked for permission to marry me. Last moon cycle."
Ariana froze.
"You're lying."
"Ask him."
"He said he chose me."
Selene's smile dripped venom. "He chose your body. Your bloodline. Your womb."
"Stop—"
"You were a distraction," she hissed. "He's a prince. And you, my dear, are a ticking bomb in a pretty dress."
Ariana didn't remember walking.
Didn't remember slamming open the war room doors.
Didn't remember how her voice broke as she screamed:
"Why did you hide my family's letter!?"
Damian turned sharply, scrolls spilling from his hands.
"You weren't ready—"
"You don't get to decide that!"
"It was to protect you—"
"From what! The truth!? Or your own guilt!?"
She threw the letter at his chest. It bounced to the floor like a curse.
"And did you also protect me by proposing to Selene behind my back?" she whispered.
His eyes widened.
A beat of silence. Too long. Too loud.
"I didn't… I—" he started, but stopped.
He didn't deny it.
And that was enough.
Ariana turned on her heel, fire in her throat, betrayal in her ribs.
That night, she didn't return to his chambers.
She slept in her old room — alone, cold, curled around nothing but rage.
He touched me like I was his future.
But he treated me like a secret.
Somewhere beyond the palace walls, a shadow rode toward the capital.
The heir of Veyl was awake.
And the kingdom was no longer safe.