Aurelia didn't move, not at first. The warmth of the hearth seemed to cling to her, a fleeting comfort she was reluctant to leave. Her gaze lingered on the almost empty tray, the crumbs of honey cake, the ghost of a meal that had steadied her trembling hands.
Kaelen waited, his expression soft in the firelight. He didn't reach for her, didn't push. He simply stood there—a solid, quiet presence in the chaos of her world.
Finally, Aurelia took a slow breath and turned toward the door.
He fell into step beside her, not touching, but close enough that his shadow merged with hers on the stone floor.
They moved through the quiet corridors in silence, the only sounds the soft rustle of her gown and the distant echo of palace life—muffled voices, the clatter of armor, the whisper of servants' footsteps.
As they neared the wing that housed her chambers, Aurelia slowed. Her fingers tightened around the fabric of his coat, still draped over her shoulders.
And the garment tight on her other hand.
She could feel the weight of his coat—not just the wool, but the meaning. A shield. A claim. A kindness she didn't know how to accept.
"Here," she said softly, stopping before a familiar door. She slipped the coat from her shoulders and held it out to him. "Thank you."
He took it, his fingers brushing hers. The contact was brief, but it sent a current through her—a reminder of his touch in the kitchen, the almost-kiss, the words she wasn't supposed to hear.
"Aurelia," he said, his voice low.
She looked up, her violet eyes meeting his ocean-blue ones. In the dim torchlight of the hallway, she saw no pity there. Only a steady, unwavering certainty.
"You don't have to thank me," he said. "And you don't have to face any of this alone."
She opened her mouth to reply, but no words came. How could she explain the storm inside her? The shame, the hunger, the confusing pull toward a man who'd marked her skin? The terrifying knowledge that Kaelen's love could be as dangerous as Tenebrarum's cruelty?
Before she could speak, footsteps echoed down the corridor—firm, measured, unmistakable.
Aurelia's blood ran cold.
Kaelen heard them too.
His expression shifted, the softness hardening into something guarded, alert. He stepped slightly in front of her, not obscuring her completely, but placing himself between her and the approaching sound.
The footsteps stopped.
Tenebrarum stood distance from them, impeccably clothed in black, a silhouette of controlled darkness. The stark lines of his attire—a high-collared tunic, tailored trousers, and polished boots—accentuated his height, his shoulders, the unyielding poise of a crown prince.
But it was the mask he had changed it back , to the smooth and featureless one that commanded attention.
Black, cold, and utterly faceless, it erased all trace of the man beneath, leaving only a presence—striking, untouchable, and silent.
He said nothing, but his presence was a glacial wave that seemed to freeze the very air.
Aurelia's breath caught in her throat.
Kaelen didn't move. He held his brother's gaze, his posture relaxed but ready.
For a long, suspended moment, no one spoke. Then, without a word, Tenebrarum turned and walked away, his footsteps fading into the shadows.
The silence he left behind was heavier than any threat.
Aurelia let out a shaky breath she hadn't realized she was holding.
Kaelen turned back to her, his face grim. "Go inside," he said quietly. "Lock the door."
This time, she didn't argue. She nodded, her fingers trembling as she reached for the handle.
Just before she slipped inside, she glanced back at him. He was still watching her, his silver hair glowing faintly in the gloom, his eyes filled with a resolve that both comforted and terrified her.
"I do not want to offend you, but I truly care for Tenebrarum," she whispered.
For a moment, Kaelen's calm mask slipped. A muscle in his jaw tightened, and his eyes—so often gentle and patient—darkened with a sharp, biting flash of jealousy. It was there and gone in a heartbeat, swallowed beneath a veneer of control, but she saw it: the raw, unwilling sting of a man watching the woman he cared for hand her heart to someone else. To him.
His motionless brother, Tenebrarum.
He offered a faint, almost imperceptible smile, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Yeah," he said, his voice softer now, strained. "I'm not offended."
The door closed between them with a soft, final click.
Aurelia leaned against it, listening as his footsteps retreated down the hall—slower this time, heavier.
On the other side, Kaelen did not walk away immediately. He stood there in the dim corridor, his hand clenched at his side, his knuckles white. The ghost of her confession seemed to echo off the stones.
I truly care for Tenebrarum.
He closed his eyes, a low, tight breath escaping him. Jealousy was a cold, sharp thing in his chest—a thorned vine wrapping around his ribs.
He had brought her food, given her warmth, offered her kindness… and still, she looked down that dark hall after a man who left bruises on her skin.
For a moment, he considered turning back. Pounding on her door. Asking her why. Demanding to know what his brother had that he did not.
But he didn't. He knew the answer already. It wasn't about worth even though Tenebrarum had more status than him.
It was about poison. And Aurelia had already drunk deeply.
With a slow, controlled exhale, he turned and walked away, each step measured, each breath a quiet battle against the green-eyed beast now awake inside him.
Alone again, Aurelia slid to the floor, the cold stone seeping through the fabric of her gown. She looked down at her hand bandaged, at the torn undergarment still clenched in her fist—a symbol of everything she'd lost, and everything she was fighting to reclaim.
She didn't know what awaited her; Camilla was just a few steps from her chamber.
----------------------------
To be continued...