Ariana didn't bleed in front of Damian.
She had the palace healer patch her shoulder in silence, then locked herself in her chambers, staring at the broken blade she'd used to defend herself.
Everything had changed.
She wasn't just a lover. Or a secret. Or a threat.
She was a target.
And someone had to pay.
The next morning, a message arrived — sealed with obsidian wax.
"To the Flame of Veyl —
The war you were born for has begun.
Let me help you burn it all."
— Kairo of the North
Her blood turned to ice.
Kairo.
The prince of a fallen kingdom. Her childhood protector. Her first kiss.
The one they said was dead.
He's alive. And he knows who I am.
Meanwhile, Damian stood in the shadows of the throne hall, watching Ariana refuse to meet his eyes.
"She's slipping away," he muttered.
"Let her," Selene cooed, gliding past. "The more you chase her, the more like a fool you look."
He ignored her.
Because he'd felt it last night. When Ariana pulled away.
She wasn't afraid of him.
She was done with him.
Later that day, Ariana stood alone in the garden of flame lilies — her favorite place — when the air shifted.
She turned.
And saw him.
Kairo.
He stepped from the shadows like a ghost, dressed in black and silver, his face sharper now, eyes colder.
But when he looked at her, something old flickered there.
"Ari," he whispered.
Her heart stuttered.
"You died."
"No. I just became someone this kingdom fears."
He stepped closer. Close enough for her to see the scar over his collarbone — the one he got protecting her as a child.
"And I came back for you."
She didn't stop him when he touched her hand.
Didn't flinch when he leaned in.
"I've waited years," he said against her lips.
"You're still fire. But now… you're mine to wield."
Their mouths met — soft, slow, familiar — and wrong in all the right ways.
And deep inside the palace?
Damian watched from the shadows.
And for the first time…
He was afraid.