Caelan
I cannot sleep.
I lie in my bed, staring at the ceiling, watching shadows dance across the stone. The moon shines through my window, bright and accusing. It feels like it is watching me, waiting for me to explain myself.
I cannot.
I do not understand what happened in the throne room. I have sentenced criminals before, have looked into the eyes of traitors and thieves without feeling anything but duty. But tonight was different. Tonight, when I looked at Eryx, I felt something wake up inside me. Something I did not know existed.
It terrifies me.
I turn onto my side, pulling the blanket tighter around my shoulders. I tell myself it means nothing. He is just a prisoner. A rogue. A criminal who defied the crown. Tomorrow I will execute him as I should have done tonight, and this strange feeling will fade.
It has to.
But even as I think it, I know I am lying to myself.
A soft knock interrupts my thoughts. I sit up, frowning. It is late, well past midnight. No one should be disturbing me at this hour.
"Enter," I call.
The door opens, and Isolde steps inside.
She is wearing a pale blue nightgown, her long hair loose around her shoulders. She looks beautiful, like something from a dream. The fated bond hums softly between us, warm and familiar. I should feel comforted by her presence. I should feel drawn to her.
Instead, I feel guilty.
"I saw your light was still on," she says softly, closing the door behind her. "I thought you might need company."
I force a smile. "I am fine. Just restless."
She crosses the room and sits on the edge of my bed. Her hand reaches out, touching mine. The bond flares at the contact, sending warmth up my arm. It is gentle, soothing, everything the bond is supposed to be.
"You have been distant lately," Isolde says, her voice careful. "Not just tonight. For weeks now. I can feel it, Caelan. The bond is there, but you are pulling away from me."
Guilt twists deeper in my chest. She does not deserve this. She has done nothing wrong.
"I am sorry," I say quietly. "There is much on my mind. The wedding, the council, the rogues. I have been distracted."
"Is that all it is?" She searches my face, her eyes filled with concern. "Because sometimes I feel like you are somewhere else. Like you are looking at me but not seeing me."
I do not know what to say. She is right. I have been distant. But I cannot tell her why. I do not even understand it myself.
"I am here," I say, squeezing her hand. "I promise. The wedding will happen. Everything will be as it should be."
She smiles, but it does not reach her eyes. She leans forward and kisses my cheek, soft and gentle.
"I love you, Caelan," she whispers. "I know the bond is not the same as mortal love. I know it takes time. But I want you to know that I am trying. I want this to work."
The words pierce through me. She is trying. She is kind and patient and everything I should want.
So why do I feel like I am suffocating?
"I know," I say. "I am trying too."
She stands, smoothing down her nightgown. "Get some rest. Tomorrow is a long day."
She leaves, closing the door softly behind her. The room feels colder without her. I lie back down, but sleep does not come.
All I can think about is a pair of wild, defiant eyes staring at me from across the throne room.
All I can think about is Eryx.
The next morning, I wake before dawn. I dress quickly, pulling on simple clothes instead of my royal robes. I need air. I need space. I need to clear my head before the council meeting.
I leave my chambers and walk through the quiet halls of the palace. Most of the staff are still asleep. The torches burn low, casting long shadows. My footsteps echo against the stone.
I do not plan where I am going. My feet carry me on instinct.
And somehow, I end up at the entrance to the dungeons.
I stop, staring at the heavy iron door. I should turn around. I should go back to my chambers, prepare for the day, and forget about the prisoner rotting below.
But I do not.
I push the door open and descend the stairs. The air grows colder, damper. The smell of earth and stone fills my lungs. Torches line the narrow hallway, barely providing enough light to see.
The guard at the bottom of the stairs jumps to his feet when he sees me.
"Your Majesty," he stammers, bowing quickly. "I did not expect you."
"I want to see the prisoner," I say. "The rogue brought in last night."
The guard hesitates. "Are you sure, Your Majesty? He is dangerous."
"I am aware. Open the cell."
The guard nods and leads me down the corridor. We pass several empty cells before stopping at the last one. He unlocks the heavy door, and it swings open with a creak.
Eryx sits on the floor, his back against the wall. His hands are still chained. He looks up when I enter, and that same sharp smile crosses his face.
"Well, well," he says. "The king himself. Come to finish what you started?"
I step inside, and the guard closes the door behind me, leaving us alone. The cell is small, cold. There is nothing but a thin blanket and a bowl of water.
"I came to talk," I say.
"Talk." Eryx laughs, but there is no humor in it. "Kings do not talk to prisoners. They command. They judge. They execute."
"I am not here as a king."
"Then what are you here for?"
I do not have an answer. I do not know what I am doing here. All I know is that I could not stay away.
"You said I am a prisoner of my own crown," I say slowly. "What did you mean?"
Eryx studies me for a long moment. Then he leans forward, his chains rattling.
"You really do not see it, do you?" he says. "You sit on that throne and think you have power. But everything you do, everything you are, is decided by someone else. The Moon chooses your mate. The council tells you how to rule. Tradition chains you tighter than any iron ever could."
"That is duty," I say. "That is what it means to be king."
"No." Eryx shakes his head. "That is what it means to be a slave."
Anger flares in my chest. "You know nothing about me."
"I know more than you think." He stands, stepping closer. Even in chains, he moves like a predator. "I know you do not love her. Your fated mate. I saw it in your eyes last night. The bond is there, but your heart is not."
I freeze. How does he know? How can he see what I have spent months trying to hide?
"You are wrong," I say, but my voice wavers.
"Am I?" Eryx tilts his head, his eyes burning into mine. "Then why are you here, Caelan? Why did you spare my life? Why are you standing in this cell instead of in her arms?"
I have no answer.
The silence stretches between us, heavy and dangerous.
And then Eryx does something I do not expect.
He reaches out, his chained hand brushing against mine.
The touch is electric. It shoots through me like lightning, fierce and undeniable. My wolf roars to life, desperate and wild. This is not the gentle warmth of the fated bond.
This is fire.
I pull my hand back, my heart racing.
"You feel it too," Eryx whispers. "Do not lie to yourself."
I turn and pound on the door. The guard opens it immediately, and I stumble out of the cell, gasping for air.
"Your Majesty, are you all right?" the guard asks.
"Fine," I say, though I am anything but. "I am fine."
I walk away quickly, my hands shaking.
Because Eryx is right.
I do feel it.
And that terrifies me more than anything.