Arin
The corridors were too silent.
As I ran, my footsteps echoed hollowly as I stumbled away from the grand chamber, the very one where I was supposed to consummate my union with King Roan—the man I had been bound to in the ceremony only hours before. But instead of finding him waiting, instead of a beginning, she had found an ending she never saw coming.
As I dashed the tears off my face, I wondered to myself what I had expected in the first place. He had shown his disdain of me in front of everyone, why would he want me near him in private?
Nova's laugh still rang in my ears. Roan had not even looked startled. He had turned his head, met my gaze, and said nothing. As if he had been expecting me. As if my presence meant nothing.
I barely made it through the terrace doors before the sob broke free.
The cold night air bit into my skin as i ran into the garden, but it couldn't numb what raged inside me. Betrayal throbbed beneath my ribs, raw and violent. My wedding robes—the royal red and silver she had been forced to wear—felt like shackles now. The embroidery of her house crest itched like a brand across her chest.
I fell to my knees among the roses.
The tears came soundlessly at first, tracking down my cheeks like silent threads of shame. But when my breath caught and my chest caved, the sob broke free, as wild as the wind that stirred the trees around me.
"Arin?"
The voice was gentle. Too gentle.
I stiffened.
From the path behind me, a lantern's light approached.
Usera.
Of course.
My stepmother had impeccable timing. Always appearing at the worst moments, swathed in perfume and sympathy, eyes like dark pits under arched brows.
"Oh, child." Usera crouched beside me, silk skirts rustling like whispers. "What has happened?"
I didn't answer. I couldn't. My throat had closed around the words. I tried to speak, but all that came out was a hoarse gasp.
Usera's hand came to rest on my back, light as a spider's touch. "Tell me," she urged. "I saw you flee. Did Roan...?"
I shook my head sharply, trembling. I didn't want to say it out loud. Didn't want to give it shape.
But Usera didn't need me to, it was all too apparent what happened.
"Nova," she murmured, her tone laced with the perfect blend of shock and dismay. "Oh, Arin. That foolish girl."
Usera sank to her knees beside me, gathering me into her arms.
"Oh, darling…" she whispered, stroking me hair. "I had hoped—I prayed—he would not be so cruel."
I clung to her like a lifeline, too heartbroken to question the sudden tenderness. "Why would he do that? Why now?"
Usera's hands continued their soothing rhythm. "Because men like Roan see only power. And Nova… well, Nova has always known how to use her beauty."
"You deserve more," Usera whispered. "And you shall have it."
She reached into her sleeve and drew a handkerchief. "Wipe your eyes, sweetling. You mustn't let the court see you broken."
I did as i was told, numb. The cloth smelled faintly of rose oil and something sharp beneath it—metallic, like crushed herbs. It stung my skin.
Usera rose slowly. "Stay here. Let the night take your grief. I'll handle Nova."
I didn't reply.
Didn't move.
I sank further into the shadow of the roses as my stepmother swept away, lantern bobbing in the dark.
*
Roan
The door slammed behind her.
Arin.
Her scent still lingered in the air—bitter almond and rain. Sharp, piercing. Her eyes, wide with betrayal, had cut through me sharper than any blade ever could. But I hadn't moved. I didn't call out. Didn't stop her.
I let her walk in.
I let her see.
And I let her run.
"Roan," Nova purred beside me, her hand trailing lazily across my shoulder, "now that she's gone, we can finally—"
"Get dressed."
She blinked. "What?"
I stood, shrugging off the weight of her limbs. Her perfume clung to my clothes, heavy and sweet, a stark contrast to the ache growing in the back of my throat. I didn't look at her as I walked toward the window, my fists clenching at my sides.
"Put your clothes on and leave."
There was a pause. A beat of silence before she let out a soft, disbelieving laugh.
"Roan, she's your duty, not your desire. We both know you don't want her."
I turned.
Nova's naked body glistened in the candle light, and she made no move to cover herself up. Her lips were curved, but her eyes had gone sharp.
"She's your Queen," I said coldly.
"She's just the girl you were forced to mate. The Council pushed for it, your advisors threatened dissent, and your precious title needed legitimizing. That doesn't mean you owe her anything."
I stared at her. She had always known the right words to say. Always knew which truths would grate beneath my skin like sand in a wound. But tonight, I felt no pleasure in her presence. No comfort. No distraction.
Nova reached for the wine decanter and poured a glass with a casual grace, lifting it toward me.
"Drink. Forget. You've done your part. Let me help you feel good again."
"No."
My voice came out sharper than intended.
Her eyes flickered. "Roan—"
"I said no." I crossed the room in two steps, took the glass from her, and set it down—hard—on the nearest table. "This was a mistake."
"You weren't saying that when I was on your lap."
"And yet I'm saying it now."
Her jaw tightened. "You'd throw me out for her?"
"I'm throwing you out because I need to think. And you're not helping."
The air between us froze.
Nova straightened, slowly putting on her clothes. "You may wear the crown, Roan, but don't forget who knows the weight of it with you."
She walked past me without waiting for permission. Her steps were light, unbothered—but I knew her well enough to hear the storm behind her silence. As she opened the door, she turned once more.
"She won't last, you know. Arin. You'll suffocate her. Or she'll drown you."
Then she left.
The door shut behind her, quieter than Arin's had.
The silence that followed was heavy. It pressed down on my shoulders like a second cloak.
I exhaled and grabbed the wine and took a massive gulp before finally let myself sit. My head dropped into my hands.
Arin.
She looked so small when she saw us—like she'd folded inward in a single breath. Her eyes weren't just hurt. They were shattered.
But she hadn't screamed.
Hadn't begged or demanded.
She'd simply fled, and somehow, that made it worse.
Because she'd believed there was something to protect. Some part of this marriage that might have mattered.
To her.
Not to me.
I hadn't wanted this marriage. The council had insisted. Mating a highborn girl from one of the lesser Houses would tie me to the North, secure the border alliance. They said she was wolfless—safe. Quiet. Perfect for display, no threat to the throne.
I hadn't even looked at her when they read the mating vows.
Just her hands. Small. Steady. No tremor. No fear.
But tonight… I saw fire in her.
Pain cracked her wide open.
And I'd caused it.
Good. I told myself that. Better she break now than try to build something that would only crumble later.
I wasn't made for softness. I wasn't made for love.
This marriage was a cage they had locked me in.
And I would find the key.
Even if I had to burn the entire palace down to escape it.
I drank more of the wine, determined to try to drown out my troubles tonight.