Temperance
The laughter of the Court still clung to me when I returned to my chambers.
Not the sound itself, but the echo of it, lodged beneath my skin. Every whisper, every glance, every cruelly curved smile—they followed me like ghosts, stitched into the midnight silk I couldn't shed fast enough. I tore the gown away, left it pooled at my feet, and wrapped myself in nothing but my own arms.
The feast had been a trial, a stage, and somehow I had not stumbled. But their eyes had stripped me raw. Even my victories felt borrowed, fragile things that could shatter with one false step.
And yet—
And yet when Castiel had risen, when his voice had silenced them all, when he had declared me their queen again, I had felt something I hadn't dared feel since Willowsend.
Pride.
Not for him. Not for them. For myself. I had stood. I had spoken. I had not broken. But as the fire burned low and the hall outside fell silent, pride gave way to something else. Something I could not name.
The bond stirred, a faint hum in my veins. I pressed my hand to my chest, as though I could still it. The rhythm beneath my palm was mine—yet not. My heart, and something echoing it. I closed my eyes. And there he was.
Not in flesh, not in shadow at my door, but in the press of thought against thought. His presence slid through me like smoke. I could feel his breath at my ear, though the room was empty.
Temperance.
The whisper shivered down my spine. I opened my eyes to nothing but firelight. Still, the air shifted, heavy with him.
"Get out," I whispered, though I did not move.
The bond pulsed, answering not with words but with silence that felt like a hand closing around mine. I should have been furious. I should have been afraid.
Instead, heat spread low in my belly, sharp and unwanted. I curled into the bed, dragging the covers over me as though they could shield me from something inside my own skin. My pulse thundered.
And still, I felt him.
Watching. Waiting.