Chapter 7: Delphine

Theron’s summons had been terse, precise, and frustratingly mysterious. A note slipped beneath my door with handwriting as cold and sharp as the man himself:

Meet me in the gardens at dusk. We need to speak.

I crumpled the parchment irritably, annoyed at the authoritative tone but intrigued despite myself. Theron Valemont was clearly accustomed to being obeyed without question.

Unfortunately for him, I rarely obeyed anyone—especially when secrets hung in the air, thick and inviting.

The evening air was cool, scented with night-blooming flowers and faint hints of lingering magic. The gardens spread before me, lush yet wild, edged by thorny vines that climbed high stone walls. At their heart, glass-paneled greenhouses glowed softly under the fading twilight, warm lanterns flickering within.

I found him standing amidst the quiet shadows, his tall, imposing form outlined by soft lantern light. Theron’s posture was rigid, perfectly controlled—a king accustomed to commanding obedience without words. His face was half-hidden by shadows, eyes unreadable as he watched me approach.

“You summoned me?” I asked pointedly, deliberately casual.

Theron’s gaze remained fixed, unflinching. “We need to talk.”

“I gathered that,” I replied dryly, halting several feet away—close enough to show defiance, distant enough to maintain control. “But typically, conversations start with greetings.”

“Miss Ashwood,” he acknowledged coolly. “There. Now, shall we discuss your unauthorized explorations?”

“I prefer ‘curious investigations,’” I countered lightly. “Sounds less threatening.”

“Dangerous curiosity, perhaps,” he replied, voice edged with quiet intensity. “You found the mirror.”

“You mean your spyglass?” I retorted sharply. “Yes, I did. Should I apologize?”

He ignored my sarcasm, eyes piercing. “You shouldn’t have been able to breach those wards. Not without significant effort.”

I raised an eyebrow, deliberately defiant. “Your wards practically opened for me. Either they’re weaker than you thought—or this castle really likes me.”

“That,” he replied sharply, “is precisely the problem.”

“Because you don’t?” I challenged boldly, watching closely for his reaction.

His jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. “Because the castle’s favor can be lethal. Particularly for someone of your lineage.”

“My lineage?” I folded my arms, irritation pricking beneath my bravado. “You summoned me here to warn me off because of my bloodline?”

“Your family has history here—dangerous history,” he said quietly, the edge of control slipping ever-so-slightly. “The last Ashwood who stood where you are now paid dearly for her curiosity.”

“Then perhaps it’s past time someone confronted your castle’s secrets openly,” I snapped defiantly. “Instead of burying them.”

Theron took a slow, measured step closer, the space between us charged with electric tension. “Be careful, Delphine. There are truths beneath this castle that you’re not prepared to face.”

I lifted my chin, meeting his gaze unflinchingly. “Then help me face them. Stop hiding behind cryptic warnings and shadowed threats. Trust me.”

He shook his head slightly, eyes darkening. “Trust is dangerous.”

“Lack of trust is deadlier,” I countered, voice softening slightly. “Secrets fester in the dark. They become powerful, uncontrollable.”

His gaze locked onto mine, intense yet conflicted. “Some secrets are best left buried.”

“And yet,” I whispered defiantly, “they always resurface, don’t they?”

We stood close now, the air thick with tension and unspoken things. I could see clearly the struggle within him—control versus vulnerability, duty versus desire. For a moment, his careful façade faltered, revealing a flicker of genuine worry.

I softened slightly. “Theron, you can’t keep running from this forever.”

“I’m not running,” he said quietly, voice strained with suppressed emotion. “I’m protecting what remains.”

“And what about me?” I pressed gently. “Am I something to protect—or something to fear?”

His jaw tightened again, eyes flashing briefly. “Both.”

I exhaled softly, frustration giving way to quiet determination. “You don’t have to do this alone. Whatever’s beneath this castle—it wants me. You felt it too.”

He didn’t answer immediately, gaze distant, conflicted. When he finally spoke, his voice was barely audible. “It wants far more than you realize.”

“Then tell me,” I urged softly, taking a cautious step forward. “Trust me enough to let me help.”

Theron hesitated, tension radiating from every tightly-held muscle. Slowly, carefully, he met my eyes again—this time with raw honesty that took me by surprise.

“I’ve trusted before,” he whispered harshly, his voice carrying a weight of past regret. “And it cost far more than I could afford to lose.”

Something in his expression—vulnerable beneath layers of guarded authority—stirred compassion I hadn’t expected. Despite everything, I stepped closer, voice gentle yet firm.

“I’m not whoever hurt you before,” I whispered softly, holding his gaze steadily. “I don’t intend to betray you.”

His eyes softened slightly, conflict clearly visible. For a heartbeat, I thought he might reach out—bridge the carefully maintained distance between us.

Instead, he retreated slightly, eyes shuttering once more. “Intentions rarely match outcomes.”

I sighed gently, frustration returning. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re infuriating,” he countered quietly, but the faintest hint of a smile ghosted his lips, betraying amusement beneath his tension.

We stood quietly, the charged silence lingering, stretched taut between attraction and uncertainty. Finally, Theron stepped back decisively, composure slipping neatly into place again.

“For now,” he said quietly, authoritative once more, “focus your efforts on stabilizing the wards. Don’t return to the West Tower.”

“I won’t make promises I don’t intend to keep,” I replied coolly.

His expression darkened again, irritation mingling reluctantly with admiration. “You are truly relentless.”

“Thank you,” I said sweetly. “I do try.”

He sighed gently, shaking his head slightly. “Just—be careful, Delphine.”

“I always am,” I replied softly, smiling sweetly at him before turning toward the garden’s exit. “Mostly.”

His gaze followed me silently, heavy and intense, as I walked away. I didn’t look back—couldn’t afford to. His warnings lingered, uneasy truths wrapped in reluctant honesty. Theron was right: Castle Thorne was dangerous, its secrets deadly.

But I wasn’t about to stop now. Not until I uncovered everything—and perhaps, despite myself, reached the guarded, haunted man at its heart.

Because beneath his cold exterior, I sensed a heart that wasn’t quite as unreachable as he wanted everyone to believe.

And whether Theron liked it or not, I fully intended to find it.