Three days after the rebellion bowed to her…
Three days since Damian kissed her like it would ruin them…
And Ariana still couldn't breathe without tasting smoke.
She now sat in the council chamber, draped in black and silver, a dagger strapped to her thigh, her eyes ringed with exhaustion.
But gods… she still looked divine.
Like the storm hadn't touched her — only sharpened her.
Across from her, Kairo stood tall, arms crossed, his cloak heavy with dust from the city patrols. His eyes never left her.
"You haven't slept," he said.
Ariana gave a tired smile.
"Queens don't sleep. They calculate."
"And bleed."
She looked away.
"And burn."
The chamber doors swung open.
And in walked her aunt — Duchess Seraphine of the West Isles. A woman who hadn't spoken Ariana's name since the day she was orphaned.
She wore red silk and eyes like a snake.
"Ariana," she purred. "You've grown into your mother's face… and your father's mistakes."
Ariana's fists clenched beneath the table.
Seraphine smiled.
"I come with an alliance. And a warning."
That night, Ariana paced her chambers, the duchess's words stuck like a thorn in her throat.
"Not all rebels bowed because they believe in you," Seraphine had whispered.
"Some only bowed… to get close enough to strike."
Kairo entered without knocking.
"You're not safe here," he said.
"Then where am I safe?"
He crossed the room slowly, removing his gloves. His eyes darkened as he neared.
"With me."
The air between them was thick now.
Different from before.
Hotter. Heavier. Hungrier.
He reached out, brushing a strand of hair from her face.
"You don't trust anyone, do you?"
"I can't afford to."
"Then trust this."
He leaned in.
Didn't kiss her.
Just hovered.
Letting her feel his breath, his restraint, his control.
"I'd burn every kingdom before I let them take you."
Her breath hitched.
"I know."
But as he pulled away…
As she tried to calm her racing heart…
A shadow move
d behind the curtains.
A spy.
Watching.
And in their hand?
A vial of poison meant for the queen.