The morning after their firestorm, the world felt quiet.
Too quiet.
Ariana lay wrapped in Damian's arms, their skin still sticky with heat, his breath warm against her shoulder.
But her heart wasn't at peace.
I let him in again. I burned again. What if I never stop burning?
She slid out of the bed silently, his hand slipping off her waist like a promise he couldn't keep.
She needed air.
She needed answers.
The royal archives were off-limits.
But Ariana didn't care.
The Veyl scroll had been dated three weeks ago. Which meant Damian had hidden it long before their fight.
She needed to know why.
And when she found the records of communication… she found more than a letter.
She found an agreement.
"Prince Damian to wed Princess Selene of House Elreid. Dowry accepted. Power exchange confirmed. Purpose: political stability post-union."
Ariana's knees buckled.
He wasn't lying to protect me.
He was lying to keep me silent until after he married her.
"You shouldn't be in here."
The voice snapped through the air like a dagger.
Ariana turned.
Selene.
Leaning against the doorway, twirling a dagger between her fingers.
"Looking for more truths, flame girl?"
"I found enough."
"Good. Then you'll understand why this… was always temporary."
Ariana stood slowly, fury rising in her veins.
"You sent the message to Veyl, didn't you? You told them I was here."
Selene smirked. "You're smarter than you look."
"You want them to kill me."
"Oh no, darling," Selene said softly. "I want them to take you. Let them see what Damian has done. Let him watch your people carve you apart in front of him."
Ariana's hand shot out — she slammed Selene against the shelves, fury shaking her bones.
"You'll regret this."
"Oh, sweetheart," Selene purred, lips bleeding. "He already does."
But Ariana wasn't alone.
Behind her, a guard had entered silently.
And when he raised his blade — it wasn't for Selene.
It was for Ariana.
She ducked just in time — the sword slashed the air, slicing through a scroll. Selene shrieked and fled.
Ariana grabbed a fallen blade and turned, her breath catching as she locked eyes with the guard.
"Why?" she choked out.
"You're the heir of Veyl," he growled. "And this kingdom will never belong to your blood."
He lunged.
She fought.
Steel clashed. Blood spilled. Her shoulder burned — but she didn't stop.
And in a final twist of her blade, she sent him crashing to the floor.
Moments later, Damian burst in, sword drawn — too late.
He saw her there, panting, bleeding, furious.
"Ariana—"
"Don't."
She turned to him with rage and heartbreak boiling in her eyes.
"You lied. You were going to marry her. You let them come for me."
"I didn't know—"
"I don't care."
She pushed past him.
"Next time someone tries to kill me," she hissed, "maybe don't let them through your bedroom door."