Celine’s fingers brushed over the mint leaves, dew still clinging to them like breath held too long. The garden was quiet. For once, the world felt still. Birds rustled above. The earth beneath her feet smelled rich and cool.
She needed this moment. Just one—one breath before the ceremony that might decide her future.
The nerves pulsing under her skin had been relentless. She’d trained, listened, stayed silent when needed. But still, doubt coiled tightly in her gut, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was a breath away from ruin.
She didn’t expect the footsteps.
She didn’t expect him.
“Celine?”
She turned, and Luke was there, a bit too sharply dressed to be picking herbs, though his hair was slightly windblown like he’d come here quickly.
“I—Lilith said she needed some fresh mint to sleep better,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”
She gave him a small nod, arms loosely crossed. “It’s a garden. Not exactly private territory.”
He let out a quiet chuckle, the kind that used to soften something in her. “Guess I deserved that.”
For a moment, neither of them spoke. He looked around like he was stalling, weighing whether to say what he’d actually come to say.
“Celine,” he said finally, “I heard you’re one of the nominees.”
Her body went still.
“I just wanted to know how you’re doing. If this life with Leon is…” He trailed off, eyes fixed somewhere over her shoulder. “If it’s something you want.”
She studied him. He still wouldn’t look at her.
“I don’t know if want really matters,” she said. “This is survival.”
Luke nodded, slow at first, like the words caught in his throat on the way out. “I never meant to hurt you.”
Celine didn’t respond. Her gaze flicked to the space between them instead, unmoving.
His hand lifted, hovering near hers—fingers stretching like he was reaching for something that wasn’t his anymore. But then, footsteps echoed down the garden path.
Luke froze. His hand dropped fast. Celine’s arm snapped back like she’d touched an open flame.
Leon’s voice followed, calm but cutting. “Interesting time for gardening.”
Celine turned toward the sound. Leon stood at the edge of the path, shoulders squared, shadowed by Lilith and Sasha. The expression on his face wasn’t anger. But it wasn’t nothing.
Lilith smiled like she’d walked in on exactly what she’d hoped to find. “Well, isn’t this cozy?” she said, her voice all sugar and bite. “Tell me, Celine—how long have you two been alone?”
Sasha tilted her head, her smirk already halfway to a rumor.
Celine opened her mouth, but nothing came. Her tongue felt heavy. Her throat too dry. Leon’s gaze stayed locked on her—not wide, not wild, just watching. Too sharp.
She straightened. “I was just leaving,” she said, barely louder than a whisper.
She stepped past Luke, brushing close enough to Leon to feel the heat off him. He didn’t move. Didn’t speak.
Behind her, Lilith let out a quiet hum—mocking, smug, meant only for Celine. “Some habits are hard to break, aren’t they?”
Celine didn’t look back. Her hands stayed at her sides, tight fists wrapped in calm.
But when she reached her room, her chest was tight, her breath shallow. Her pulse hadn’t slowed.
But when she reached her room, her chest was tight, her breath shallow. Her pulse hadn’t slowed.
By morning, it wouldn’t just be whispers.
There’d be stories. Celine, alone in the garden with Luke. Celine, shameless. Celine, using her place to get close to powerful men.
A flirt. A manipulator. A whore in silk.
And the worst part—the part that lodged deepest—was knowing they’d believe it. And for the first time since she’d arrived, she wasn’t sure Leon would say otherwise.