The throne room pulsed with golden light, but Selene felt only the suffocating grip of iron around her throat.
She sat at Cassian's left, her goblet untouched, her plate cold. Around them, the feast roared to life, laughter too loud, the clatter of knives against silver too sharp, the clinking of goblets too desperate.
The courtiers laughed at jokes that weren't funny.
The ministers praised the king they feared.
The banners overhead danced like executioners' flags in a rising storm.
Selene sat still as marble.
Cassian had barely spoken since their arrival.
But he didn't need to.
His silence was a blade sharper than anything she could forge.
She could feel his gaze like a brand against her skin.
Not constantly, but every time she moved, every time she lifted her cup or shifted her gown, she could feel those storm-gray eyes tracking her, reading her, judging her.
Waiting.
The worst part was that she didn't know for what.
A nobleman approached the dais, a heavy-set man with too many jewels on his fingers and a smile stretched too wide.
"Your Majesty," he bowed, voice oily. "May I extend my heartfelt congratulations on this blessed union? Surely, Lady Selene will bear you strong heirs to strengthen Veredon's bloodline."
A ripple of laughter followed his words, thick with hidden malice.
Selene's spine stiffened.
She was a pawn. A womb. A tool.
They all saw it. They all expected it.
Cassian's fingers tapped once against the table.
Slow. Deliberate.
Selene saw it, even if no one else did.
Cassian rose from his throne, his movements smooth as silk, and infinitely more dangerous.
The hall fell silent at once.
The nobleman's grin faltered.
Cassian descended the steps of the dais like a shadow sliding across a battlefield. He stopped mere inches from the trembling noble.
For a moment, he said nothing.
Then he reached out and plucked a goblet from a nearby servant's tray.
He raised it high, voice clear and cold enough to crack bone.
"To Lady Selene," Cassian said, "whose loyalty and strength shall be the crown's greatest shield, not merely its cradle."
Selene blinked.
The nobles blinked.
The insult was a razor hidden inside velvet:
A warning not to treat her like cattle.
A command to treat her like a blade.
The nobleman paled.
The crowd laughed nervously, unsure whether it was safe to breathe yet.
Cassian drank deeply, then crushed the goblet in his gloved hand.
Wine splattered the floor like blood.
He turned, climbing the steps back to the dais without sparing the nobleman another glance.
Selene's heart thundered against her ribs.
Not for her.
Not for the gesture.
For the realization that Cassian Veredon wasn't just a ruler.
He was a predator, and this kingdom was his hunting ground.
When Cassian resumed his seat beside her, she dared a glance at his profile.
Carved of stone, but alive with something furious beneath the surface.
Something savage.
Something beautiful.
She hated the thought even as it formed.
Remember why you're here, she scolded herself.
Remember whose blood cries for vengeance.
But her body remembered other things:
The heat of Cassian's hand on hers at the altar.
The brush of his lips, cold and ghostly, against her own.
Selene gritted her teeth.
Emotion was a luxury she could not afford.
"Uncomfortable?" Cassian asked quietly, without looking at her.
His voice was soft, almost lazy.
A trap.
Selene forced a sweet, practiced smile onto her lips.
The kind courtiers wore before stabbing each other in the back.
"Not at all, Your Majesty," she said smoothly. "This is... everything I ever dreamed of."
His eyes slid to her then, slow and deliberate.
He held her gaze for three heartbeats.
Four.
Five.
Selene's stomach twisted.
Cassian's mouth curved slightly, almost a smile, almost a threat.
"You lie very well," he murmured.
Selene lowered her gaze demurely, clenching her fists beneath the tablecloth.
He knows.
Not the whole truth, not yet.
But enough to make the ground feel like it was cracking beneath her feet.
The feast dragged on, each course heavier than the last.
When the music began slow, mournful strings weaving through the air, Cassian rose again, offering his hand to her.
Selene hesitated.
A flash of irritation crossed his face.
A flash of fear crossed her heart.
But she placed her hand in his, rising gracefully.
The dance floor awaited, gleaming marble, wide and exposed, surrounded by hundreds of watching eyes.
A queen's stage.
A spy's execution ground.
Cassian's hand slid to her waist, light but firm.
Selene placed her palm against his shoulder, feeling the heat of him through the layers of silk and leather.
The music swelled.
They moved together, slowly, perfectly, as if their bodies were better liars than their mouths.
Selene's heart battered against her ribs.
Cassian's touch was careful, precise, but the tension coiled between them was anything but.
It was raw.
Violent.
Every step they took was a battle.
Every turn was a dare.
He pulled her a fraction closer than was proper.
Selene sucked in a breath.
He smelled of leather, clean linen, and something darker beneath, a scent like stormwinds before a flood.
Cassian's hand tightened at her waist.
Not enough to hurt.
Just enough to remind her that escape was an illusion.
"Are you afraid of me, Selene Arlont?" he asked against the shell of her ear.
Selene tilted her head up, meeting his burning gaze without flinching.
She smiled, slow and poisonous.
"Should I be, Your Majesty?"
For the first time since she arrived in this cursed palace, Cassian Veredon laughed.
It was a low, broken sound.
The kind of laugh a man gave before stepping into a grave.
As the music died and the dance ended, Selene knew two things with terrifying certainty:
Cassian Veredon would not be easy to fool.
And if she wasn't careful…
She might lose more than just her life.
She might lose herself.
Chapter 4 will be released soon. Don't forget to add to library.
Stay tuned!