They lay on the grass floor, the scent of roses curling around them as the wind brushed gently through the glass panes. Aria rested against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. Her eyes lifted to him—his black hair was tousled, his neck marred with faint bite marks, and his broad shoulders bore the scratches of her nails, each mark a claim that he was hers.
"Don't look at me like that," Abigel murmured, his voice low and dangerous, "unless you want me to start again." His hand drifted lower, brushing against her stomach.
"Please, no more… I'm tired," Aria whispered, catching his hand in hers.
He drew in a slow breath. Of course, he would never push her beyond her consent. Instead, he pressed a soft kiss to her forehead.
"It's better we go back before someone notices," Aria said, though her voice carried reluctance. Selene's absence would already raise questions, and Aria missing from the ball would stir even more suspicion.
Abigel helped her dress, his fingers lingering longer than necessary, trailing over the marks he had left with a proud satisfaction.
"I could hide them," Aria teased, brushing her fingers over her neck as if covering the bites.
Abigel tugged her back against him, his lips grazing her ear as he smirked.
"Try it… Princess."
Aria skipped the rest of the ball, slipping quietly into Selene's chambers. Kaelen and Selene lay side by side on the bed, their breaths steady, as if merely asleep. Aria sat beside them, her small hand brushing her mother's fingers.
"Please wake up soon," she whispered, her voice trembling. "I miss you already."
The door creaked open. Liam and Theo entered the room, their gazes falling on her. For a moment, silence pressed between them—until Liam's face darkened.
"I'm going to kill that bastard," Liam growled.
Aria flinched, her head snapping up. "Uncle—!"
Theo's eyes narrowed, sharper than his words. "You stink like him."
Her cheeks flushed, but she lifted her chin in defiance. "I'm not a child anymore. And we did it because I wanted to."
Liam's hands clenched into fists. His voice shook with fury. "Oh, my Lord… He's used black magic on her. Twisted her mind. That's the only explanation—"
"If you hurt him," Aria cut in, her voice fierce despite the quiver in it, "I won't speak to you again. I won't even look at you."
Liam faltered, caught between rage and heartbreak, then turned sharply and stormed out.
Theo lingered a moment longer, his gaze weighing her, unreadable. "You know it will only get worse when your parents wake," he said quietly, before following Liam out.
The next day
Aria woke to the hushed murmurs and hurried footsteps of maids and soldiers echoing down the corridor. Something serious was happening. She needed to see for herself.
A few moments earlier
Abigel was in the training grounds, overseeing the soldiers as they prepared for the hunt set to begin in a few hours. The morning air was crisp, but he felt a familiar weight on his back—someone had approached silently.
"Crown Prince," Abigel said, bowing reflexively.
"I didn't know you were a coward," Liam's voice cut through the air, sharp as a blade.
Abigel said nothing. He had known this confrontation might come, though he had hoped today wouldn't be the day, with the tournament looming.
"Silence won't save you today," Liam said, his gaze like fire, piercing straight through him.
"I'll try harder next time," Abigel replied calmly. What did he even mean by that?
Liam's temper snapped. His fist struck Abigel squarely in the face.
Abigel didn't flinch. Not a word escaped him. Liam, satisfied or perhaps frustrated, left him standing there.
When Aria arrived at the training grounds, she froze. Abigel's face was already flushed with the mark of Liam's punch.
"What happened?" she asked, though Anne had already filled her in.
"I fell," Abigel murmured, avoiding her eyes.
Aria blinked, a small laugh escaping her. "Looks like you're going to fall a few more times."
Abigel's gaze finally met hers, steady and intense. "Then I'll make sure it's worth it."
A shiver ran down Aria's spine, her breath catching at the memory of last night—the heat, the closeness, the unspoken promise lingering between them.