Zina burst through the doors of Reyes’ chambers, her fury spilling in before her like a storm uncontained. Her cheeks were flushed, her hair wild, and her voice sharp with betrayal.“What was that, Reyes?” she snapped, barely pausing to shut the door behind her. “What in the hell were you doing with her?”Reyes stood with his back to her, hands clenched at his sides. The silence that followed was chilling—until he turned, slow and deliberate, his eyes glowing with a dangerous edge.“Zina,” he warned, voice low, tight with restrained rage. But she didn’t care. Not this time.“She’s in the castle, and now you’re all over her like she’s yours? Like I’m no one?” Her voice cracked, but she kept going. “You said she was an enemy, and now... now you touch her like she matters?”Reyes moved. In a blur, he crossed the room and seized her by the throat, pressing her back hard against the stone wall. The impact rattled the lantern on the nearby table, and Zina gasped, stunned but not afraid.“Yo
Her scent—familiar, haunting, maddening—hit him like a blow to the chest. Reyes’s muscles tensed instinctively, his breath catching as the wolf inside him surged forward without warning. That raw, primal instinct that had haunted him since the incidence in the forest, flared like wildfire in his veins. “Ivone,” he growled, more animal than man now. She paused at the other table but didn’t turn. Reyes took a slow step forward, barely able to rein in the heat rising beneath his skin. “Do you even know what your scent does to me?” he asked, voice low and harsh. “It’s like you carry a piece of something I’ve been searching for my whole life—and every time you’re near, it gets harder to stay civil.” Ivone glanced back at him, her expression cool but her pulse racing. “Then I suggest you stay far away from me, Reyes,” she said softly. “Because you’re not the only one who’s starting to see things more clearly.” A low growl emanated from his belly and out his mouth through gritted teeth.
Reyes stopped beside the table, lifted a different scroll with two fingers, and glanced at it absently. “My father’s delta. The old one. He thought himself wise because he knew names in books and spoke five languages. Always made a show of quoting treaties.” She gave a short nod. “And where is he now? Maybe he could clarify some things in here.” Reyes set the scroll down and turned to her fully. His voice didn’t rise, didn’t darken—but it turned cold in its stillness. “I killed him.” Ivone blinked, taken slightly aback by the casual tone with which he’d said it. Reyes went on, as if recalling what he’d eaten for breakfast. “It was obvious he thought I was unfit. That I’d lead Nyxoria to ruin. That I didn’t deserve to touch the throne I took from my father” He leaned one hand on the table, gaze locked with hers. “So I showed him what I deserved.” Ivone didn’t flinch. Not at his admission, not at the way he leaned so casually against the table, as if discussing a long-forgotten che
Ivone stepped out of her chambers with her hair still damp, the soft scent of lavender clinging faintly to her skin. The hall outside was quiet, lit by the soft flicker of lanterns mounted on dark stone walls. A guard down the corridor glanced up but made no move to stop her—either instructed not to or simply too wary of interfering. She walked slowly, letting her fingers brush the cool stone as she turned each corner. This castle, Nyxoria, was colder than Elyria in more ways than one, but its grandeur was undeniable. Every corridor whispered secrets, every carving seemed to watch. Then she saw it, an open door, left just slightly ajar. Curious, Ivone stepped closer and pushed the heavy oak door open farther. What greeted her stole the breath from her lungs. It was a library. A vast, magnificent one. The air smelled of old parchment and polished wood, mingled with the faintest hint of ink. High above her head, shelves climbed toward an arched ceiling painted with faded constellation
Rhea's sigh was a soft whisper of air, a gentle exhalation that seemed to convey a world of concern, but she didn’t reach out. didn't try to intervene, didn't raise her voice in protest, didn’t try to stop her daughter. Instead, she remained rooted where she stood, the firelight casting angular shadows across her high cheekbones and the faint silver in her hair, her expression carved from restraint. Her eyes, though, told a different story. There was a quiet storm brewing behind them, one honed not by impulse, but by years of survival, of strategy, of waiting. Her gaze seemed to bore into Zina's very soul, a piercing look that spoke of secrets and calculations. “Just don’t draw Reyes’s attention,” she warned at last, her voice a dark murmur threaded with iron. “Not yet. He’s still watching her, not you—and that’s the only reason you’re still safe.”Her words were a subtle reminder of the delicate balance of power, a cautionary note that seemed to underscore the risks of Zina's plan.
Zina said nothing for a moment, her silence oppressive, her body language screaming tension. Her throat was tight, her chest heaving with the barely restrained frustration of a predator caged too long, heavy with the effort of controlling her emotions. She nodded once, slowly, her fists tightening at her sides until her knuckles turned white, her arms rigid with tension. “Fine,” she said hoarsely, her voice low and menacing. “But I’m not sitting idly by while she walks around in my place.”Rhea’s gaze narrowed, her eyes flashing with a mixture of concern and warning. “Zina…” she began, her voice soft but cautionary, but her daughter was already stepping back toward the door. She had her chin lifted high, her body language a portrait of wounded pride and simmering resentment, her eyes blazing with a fierce determination. Her eyes seemed to burn with an inner fire, her jaw set in a determined line. Rhea's words died on her lips as she watched her daughter's retreating form. “I’ll be