Elyasan POV
Morning arrives quietly.
For a moment, I forget where I am.
The blankets beneath me are softer than anything I have ever touched before, carrying the faint scent of cedarwood and smoke. Warm sunlight slips through the curtains in thin golden lines across the bed.
Then memory returns.
The fire.
The palace.
Kaevryn.
My eyes widen slightly as I sit up too quickly.
The room is silent.
Too silent.
Slowly, I look around the massive bedchamber.
And then I see him.
Kaevryn rests on the couch near the tall windows, one arm thrown lazily behind his head while the other rests against his stomach. His dark hair falls slightly across his forehead, softened by sleep—or what appears to be sleep.
And gods…
He is shirtless.
Heat rushes to my face immediately.
I look away.
Then unfortunately look back again.
Because truly, the Crown Prince looks unfairly beautiful like this.
The morning light spills across the sharp lines of his chest and shoulders, revealing scars scattered across skin hardened by years of battle.
But one scar stands above all the others.
The mark across his chest.
Even from here, it looks wrong.
Alive.
I find myself rising from the bed before fully realizing what I am doing.
Quietly, I walk toward him.
Kaevryn does not move.
Still asleep.
At least I think he is.
My steps slow as I finally stand near the couch.
Closer now, the scar looks even stranger.
Blue veins pulse faintly beneath his skin like lightning trapped inside his body, glowing softly with unnatural energy. The scar spreads across his chest in jagged patterns almost beautiful enough to distract from how painful it must truly be.
My chest tightens unexpectedly.
How could someone survive with something like this inside them?
The glow flickers again.
Enchanting.
Dangerous.
Lonely.
Without thinking, I slowly reach toward it.
Just barely—
"What are you doing?"
I gasp softly.
Kaevryn's eyes are suddenly open.
Watching me directly.
My hand jerks back instantly as panic floods through me.
"I-I…"
Gods.
I should not have touched him.
I should not even be standing here.
Heat rushes violently into my face as Kaevryn slowly sits upright, his gaze never leaving mine.
"I was not—"
"You were about to touch me."
His voice is rough with sleep.
Which somehow makes everything worse.
"I apologize!"
Before he can say another word, I turn and practically flee the room.
The chamber doors swing open violently as I rush into the corridor.
And nearly collide with Princess Seraphine.
She stands outside the room arguing with the royal herald blocking the entrance.
"I am his sister," she snaps coldly. "Move aside."
"His Highness gave strict orders—"
Seraphine stops speaking the moment she sees me emerge from Kaevryn's chambers.
Her sharp eyes slowly drag over my appearance.
My flushed face.
Bare feet.
His oversized blanket still wrapped around my shoulders.
Understanding flashes across her expression instantly.
Hatred follows immediately after.
I freeze briefly.
Then lower my gaze and continue walking quickly past her.
I can feel her stare burning into my back the entire time.
"Move," Seraphine orders coldly.
The herald hesitates only briefly before stepping aside immediately.
She pushes open the chamber doors without waiting for permission.
Inside, Kaevryn is already standing now, reaching for a dark tunic.
He barely glances toward her.
"You frightened the guards," he says dryly.
Seraphine closes the doors sharply behind herself.
"You allowed her to sleep in your chambers."
Kaevryn says nothing.
"That girl walks out of your room looking like she spent the night in your bed and you say nothing?"
"She nearly destroyed half the palace yesterday," he replies calmly. "I was ensuring she remained stable."
Seraphine laughs bitterly.
"Is that what we are calling it now?"
Kaevryn finally looks at her fully.
"She is becoming your obsession," Seraphine says sharply. "Can you not see what is happening?"
"She is my future wife."
"She is dangerous."
Kaevryn's expression hardens slightly.
"So are you."
Seraphine folds her arms tightly.
"I am trying to protect this kingdom."
"No," Kaevryn says calmly. "You are trying to control it."
Silence crashes heavily between them.
Because both of them know the truth.
Seraphine has always wanted the throne.
Not out of greed.
Out of belief.
She believes she would rule better than any man in their bloodline ever could.
And perhaps she is right.
She is feared across the kingdom for a reason.
The strongest she-wolf of their generation.
Brilliant.
Political.
Ruthless when necessary.
Kaevryn himself would surrender the throne to her willingly if tradition allowed it.
But it does not.
The crown belongs to the first son.
Always.
Seraphine steps closer.
"You know the nobles already whisper about her."
Kaevryn remains silent.
"They fear her power."
"They should."
"And what happens when she loses control again?" Seraphine presses. "What happens when your precious Sun Goddess burns this kingdom to the ground?"
A dangerous quiet settles in the room.
Then finally—
"There is nothing you can do to stop this marriage, Seraphine."
His voice remains respectful.
Gentle even.
Because despite everything…
She is still his older sister.
Seraphine's jaw tightens.
"You are choosing her over your own blood."
"No," Kaevryn says quietly. "I am choosing peace between kingdoms."
Seraphine stares at him for a long moment.
Then slowly—
"You are making a mistake."
Kaevryn says nothing.
Because perhaps he knows that already.
Seraphine turns sharply and walks toward the doors.
But just before leaving, she pauses.
And when she speaks again, her voice is colder than winter itself.
"That girl will ruin everything."
Then she leaves.
The chamber doors slam shut behind her.
And somewhere deep within Seraphine's chest…
Hatred begins growing into something far more dangerous.