Seraya’s POV
I couldn’t sleep.
The sky outside was still dark, not even a hint of morning on the horizon. But I was already awake, sitting in bed, heart racing like I’d just run a war.
My chest was too tight. My skin too cold. I’d barely slept. Every time I closed my eyes, it came back—his voice.
“My future queen, Princess Elowen.”
Theron had said it like it was nothing. Like he wasn’t carving me out of the world I helped him build. Like the words weren’t heavy enough to kill.
They played in my head on repeat. Every syllable a cut.
And worse—worse than the sound of his voice—was the feel of Caelum’s hands on mine.
I could still feel the press of his fingers. Firm, unshaken, unbothered. Like no matter what I did, I couldn’t move him. Like I was the only one still bleeding while he stayed untouched.
My wrists still ached where he held me. But it wasn’t Caelum who broke me.
It was Theron. It was the way he used to say my name like it was sacred. The way he used to pull me close in the middle of a storm and say, “With you, I can face anything.”
Now he had someone else beside him. Someone softer. Someone new.
And I heard him. I hadn’t meant to. I was leaving the garden just as he crossed the outer corridor with her. Laughing. Whispering.
“I can’t wait to show the world to you,” he said, low and warm.
Then softer—“It’s yours now.”
She smiled up at him like he’d hung the stars himself. They stopped walking. He leaned close—close enough that I could see the way he touched her lower back, like it was instinct. Like it had always been hers.
“Do you know how beautiful you look when you’re nervous?” he murmured.
She laughed—the soft, breathless kind.
“The court won’t take their eyes off you,” he added. “And I won’t let them.”
She said something back, but I didn’t hear it. I didn’t care. Because he leaned in even closer after that, brushing her knuckles with his lips.
“They’ll remember this night because of you,” he whispered. “You make the crown look easy.”
And gods, the way he looked at her. Like she was his future. Like I had never even been part of it.
I stood in the shadows. Frozen. No one noticed me. It felt like hearing a lie being born in real time. And worse—it was beautiful. Easy. Like he meant every word.
I pushed away all my thoughts and sat on the edge of my bed in yesterday’s gown. Wrinkled silk clung to my skin. The pins in my hair had come loose, some scattered across the floor. I hadn’t touched them.
I hadn’t touched anything. I waited for the numbness to fade. It didn’t. It just sharpened into something worse. Something I couldn’t name.
At first light, I slipped out. I went where I always did when the silence got too loud.
The temple garden. I locked the gate behind me. No guards. No servants. Just stone and sky and cold air pressing in around me.
I knelt at the shrine. Not to pray. Just to stay still.
My hands trembled in my lap. My whole body ached like it had carried too much for too long. I didn’t cry. I didn’t move.
I just sat there and broke quietly. I loved him. I still did.
And I hated myself for it.
I remembered how he used to kiss my hand before council meetings. How he stood behind me while I argued policy, never interrupting—just listening, proud.
“Speak your mind,” he used to tell me. “You’re the sharpest voice in the room.”
He used to pull me away from the table just to press a kiss behind my ear and whisper, “I’m lucky it was you.”
But it wasn’t me anymore. It was her. He gave her my crown, my place, my future. And the worst part? He looked happy doing it.
I stayed kneeling until my legs went numb. I didn’t ask the gods for help. I didn’t believe they were listening. I just begged myself to stop loving a man who clearly loved someone else.
But I couldn’t. And I wasn’t sure I ever wouLD.
