Caelan
I make it halfway down the corridor before I have to stop and lean against the wall. My legs are shaking. My heart is pounding so hard I think it might break through my ribs.
What am I doing?
I press my palms against the cold stone, trying to steady myself. I am the king. I am promised to Isolde. I have a duty to my people, to my bloodline, to everything my ancestors built.
And yet all I can think about is the way Eryx looked at me. The way his voice dropped when he asked me what I wanted. The way my entire body came alive when I grabbed him, like touching fire after a lifetime of cold.
This is madness.
I push away from the wall and force myself to keep walking. I need to get back to my chambers. I need to sleep. Tomorrow I will execute Eryx as I should have done from the beginning, and this fever, this insanity, will pass.
It has to.
But when I reach my chambers, Isolde is waiting for me.
She sits in the chair by my fireplace, a book in her lap. She looks up when I enter, and her face brightens.
"There you are," she says. "I was beginning to worry."
Guilt crashes over me like a wave. She has no idea where I have been. No idea what I have been doing. No idea that I have spent the last hour alone with another person, feeling things I should only feel for her.
"I had matters to attend to," I say, closing the door behind me.
"This late?" She sets the book aside and stands. "Caelan, you have been working yourself too hard. You barely sleep anymore. You need to rest."
She crosses the room and places her hand on my chest. The fated bond hums between us, warm and steady. It should comfort me. It should make everything else fade away.
But it does not.
Because all I can feel is the ghost of Eryx's shirt clutched in my fists, the heat of him so close I could barely breathe.
"I am fine," I say, gently removing her hand.
Her smile falters. "You keep saying that. But I do not believe you anymore."
I turn away from her, running a hand through my hair. "Isolde, please. Not tonight."
"Then when?" Her voice rises slightly. "When will you talk to me, Caelan? When will you stop pushing me away?"
"I am not pushing you away."
"Yes, you are." She moves in front of me, forcing me to look at her. "You have been doing it for weeks. Every time I try to get close, you pull back. Every time I touch you, you flinch. Do you think I did not notice?"
"I am sorry," I say quietly. "I do not mean to."
"Then what is it? What is wrong?"
I cannot tell her. How can I? How can I look into the eyes of my fated mate and tell her that I feel more alive with a prisoner I barely know than I ever have with her?
"I am just stressed," I lied. "The wedding, the council, the rogues. There is much on my mind."
"Is that truly all it is?"
No. It is not. But I cannot say that.
"Yes," I say.
She studies my face for a long moment. Then she reaches up and touches my cheek, her fingers gentle.
"I love you, Caelan," she says softly. "I know the bond is not the same as choosing. I know you did not ask for this any more than I did. But I am trying to make this work. I am trying to build something real with you. But I cannot do it alone."
The words cut deep. She deserves better than this. Better than a king who cannot give her his whole heart because he does not know where half of it has gone.
"I know," I say. "And I am trying too."
"Are you?"
The question hangs in the air between us. I want to say yes. I want to believe it. But I am not sure anymore.
Before I can answer, she leans forward and kisses me. It is soft, tentative, searching. The bond flares with the contact, sending warmth through my veins.
I kiss her back because I am supposed to. Because this is what fated mates do. Because the Moon chose her for me, and I am supposed to want this.
But it feels hollow.
Like going through the motions of something I do not truly feel.
She pulls back, and I see the sadness in her eyes. She felt it too, the emptiness in my response.
"Get some rest," she says quietly. "We can talk more tomorrow."
She leaves, closing the door softly behind her. And I am alone again.
I sink into the chair by the fire, dropping my head into my hands. What is happening to me? A week ago, my life made sense. I knew who I was, what I wanted, where I was going. Everything was clear.
Now nothing is.
Now I am a king who cannot stop thinking about a prisoner. A promised mate who cannot give his heart to his fated bond. A leader who feels more lost than any of the people he is supposed to guide.
I stay there for hours, staring into the flames, searching for answers that do not come.
The next morning, Marcus finds me in the training yard. I have been here since dawn, working out my frustration on the practice dummies. My knuckles are bloody. My muscles ache. But the chaos in my mind has not quieted.
"You look terrible," Marcus says, leaning against the fence.
"Thank you," I mutter, landing another punch.
"The council is meeting in an hour. They are going to demand an answer about the prisoner."
My jaw tightens. "I know."
"Have you decided what you are going to do?"
I stop hitting the dummy and turn to face him. "What would you do? If you were me?"
Marcus is quiet for a moment. "I would ask myself what I truly want. Not what the council wants. Not what the Moon wants. What I want."
"And if what I want is impossible?"
"Is it?"
I do not answer. Because I do not know anymore.
Marcus steps closer, lowering his voice. "Caelan, I do not know what is happening between you and that prisoner. And maybe I do not need to know. But I can see what it is doing to you. You are tearing yourself apart."
"I have a duty," I say.
"You also have a life." He places a hand on my shoulder. "You are allowed to live it."
Before I can respond, a guard runs up to us, out of breath.
"Your Majesty," he gasps. "There has been an incident."
My blood runs cold. "What kind of incident?"
"The prisoner. Someone tried to kill him in his cell."
Everything stops.
I do not remember running. I do not remember descending the dungeon stairs. All I know is that suddenly I am there, in front of Eryx's cell, and the door is open.
There is blood on the floor.
And Eryx is standing in the center of the cell, holding a broken chair leg like a weapon. A guard lies unconscious at his feet.
"What happened?" I demand.
Eryx looks at me, his eyes wild. "Your guard decided to finish what you could not. He came in here with a knife. Said the council ordered him to make it look like an accident."
Rage explodes through me. Someone tried to kill him. Someone in my own court tried to murder a prisoner without my permission.
"Who?" I growl. "Who ordered this?"
"Does it matter?" Eryx drops the makeshift weapon. "They want me dead, Caelan. And they will keep trying until they succeed. Unless you do something about it."
He is right. And at that moment, I made a decision.
I turn to the guards behind me. "Take him to the guest chambers. Post guards at his door. Anyone who tries to harm him answers to me personally."
The guards stare at me in shock. "Your Majesty, he is a prisoner."
"Not anymore." I meet Eryx's eyes. "He is under my protection now."
And I know, with absolute certainty, that everything has just changed.