The night wind tasted like secrets.
After Valen left me under the willow tree, I didn't return inside. I stayed, breathing in the scent of dying roses, staring at the path he'd walked away from me on, like he hadn't just shattered every rule in my world.
I hated him.
Not because he was cruel. But because he saw me.
No one ever truly did. They looked at my cane, at my careful steps, and saw weakness. A fragile girl grieving a dead brother and a future she couldn't hold.
But Valen Rivas, he looked at me like I was something more. Like I was dangerous. And I didn't know how to live up to that.
I finally returned to my room, peeled off the corset, and let the silk dress fall to the floor. My silver hair spilled over my shoulders like moonlight. My legs trembled beneath me, joints aching like they always did at night. My condition didn't have a name at least not one my family ever allowed doctors to speak out loud.
They called it a delicate nervous system. I called it a curse.
I'd grown used to the pain. But the weight of this marriage? That was new.
The next morning, I woke to a message sealed in black wax.
"Be ready at noon. I'll come for you. V"
No explanation. No permission asked.
He didn't care if I was busy. Or tired. Or not in the mood. Valen Rivas made demands not requests.
Still, I found myself in the mirror at eleven, smoothing a soft blue dress over my frame, wondering why I wanted him to see me as strong. As worthy. I shouldn't care.
But I did.
A black car waited outside the gates. No driver in sight just Valen, standing by the door, dressed in another suit, black on black. This time, his tie had a silver pin that gleamed like a blade.
"You're late," he said, not unkindly.
"You're early."
"Still late," he replied, opening the door. "Get in."
I did.
The car smelled like leather, smoke, and something dark like spice and danger. Valen said nothing for a while. Just watched me.
"You're quiet," I finally said.
"So are you."
"I'm not used to being summoned like this."
"Get used to it."
My eyes narrowed. "You're arrogant."
"And you're beautiful when you're annoyed," he said smoothly.
My heart kicked. I hated how easily his words got under my skin.
"I agreed to this arrangement out of obligation," I reminded him. "That doesn't give you permission to toy with me."
He tilted his head. "Elyra, I don't toy. I claim."
I looked away, my pulse roaring in my ears.
Where were we even going?
The car pulled up to an abandoned cathedral on the edge of the city, all crumbling stone and stained glass windows that still caught the light like fire.
"What is this?" I asked, stepping out slowly, gripping my cane.
"A test," Valen said, already walking toward the broken doors.
I followed him inside.
It was quiet. Holy. And haunted.
"Why here?" I asked again.
"This was my mother's," he said simply. "She used to come here when things were difficult."
There was pain in his voice. Not enough to break him just enough to remind me he wasn't made of stone.
We stood in the middle of the sanctuary. Dust floated in shafts of colored light.
"I brought you here," he said, turning to me, "because I want you to understand something before this goes any further."
I waited.
"I'm not like your father. Or your brother. Or the men who bowed to power and wore masks for society. I don't care for appearances. I don't hide truths to make people comfortable."
"Then say what you mean."
He stepped closer. "You're broken, Elyra. The world sees it. You feel it. And yet you still walk. You still breathe. That makes you dangerous."
I swallowed, throat tight. "You think I'm dangerous?"
"I know you are. You've survived things that would have killed others. Your pain doesn't weaken you. It's what sharpens you."
I didn't know what to say.
He continued, "The enemies I've made won't care that you limp. They won't see a fragile girl. They'll see me and try to hurt you because of it. I need to know that you won't break."
I raised my chin. "Why? Because your pride couldn't handle it?"
"No," he said, voice lower now. "Because I couldn't handle it."
He wasn't smiling. He wasn't teasing.
Valen Rivas, the mafia prince, the shadowed heir of a blood stained throne, looked at me like I was the one thing that could undo him.
And for the first time, I felt like maybe I wasn't being offered in marriage.
Maybe I was being chosen.
That night, I dreamed of Eiran.
We were back in the orchard, sunlight slipping through the branches, his laughter filling the air.
"I miss you," I whispered in the dream.
He looked at me with sorrow. "You're about to remember things they tried to bury, El."
I shook my head. "What things?"
But he only looked behind me and in the shadows, I saw a figure.
Not Valen.
Kael.
His eyes burned like betrayal.
I woke up gasping, hand clutching my chest.