Soren looks the same as the last time I saw him—the night of my Acknowledgement. Same dark hair, same aristocratic features, same controlled posture. But there's something different in his eyes. Something that might be desperation.
We face him in one of Silas's private audience chambers. Not the throne room—this is too delicate, too strange for public display. Silas sits behind his desk, every inch the Elder. Sebastian stands near the door, arms crossed, silver eyes hard as ice. And I'm positioned between them, still feeling the ghost of Sebastian's hands on my skin, his blood warm in my belly.
"You heard about the Challenge." Silas's voice is neutral, giving nothing away. "News travels fast."
"Too fast." Soren's gaze flicks to me, then away. "Lord Delacroix sent formal notice to all major houses. An invitation to witness Lady Tessa's... trial."
The word hangs in the air like a blade.
"And you've come because?" Sebastian's voice is pure frost.
"Because I can help." Soren turns to face him, and I watch two vampires who've never met properly size each other up. The tension is immediate and visceral. "I was married to Tessa for years. I can testify to her legitimacy. To her bloodline."
"You can testify to nothing," Sebastian says flatly. "You spent those years treating her like an inconvenience. You know less about her than—"
"Than you?" Soren's smile is sharp. "The enforcer who's known her for what, weeks?"
"Enough." Silas's single word cuts through the building hostility. "Lord Ravencrest, explain what you're offering. Specifically."
Soren's jaw works before he continues. "The Trial of Legitimacy tests bloodline in multiple ways. One of those tests involves demonstrating inherited abilities. Influence, specifically—the capacity to command others through will alone." His eyes find mine. "It's a skill that requires training. Practice. And you have three days."
"She's been training," Sebastian says.
"In combat. In power control." Soren's voice is careful. "Not in Influence. That's a specialized skill, and unless I'm mistaken, she's never been taught."
He's right. I've never been trained in Influence. At House Ravencrest, they never bothered—I was too weak, too powerless, not worth the time. The irony isn't lost on me.
"And you're qualified to teach this?" Silas asks, though his tone suggests he already knows the answer.
"I'm an Elder of House Ravencrest. I've sat in council for thirty years. Influence is one of our house's strengths." Soren's posture straightens with something like pride. "I can teach her the basics in three days. Enough to pass the test."
"Why?" The question bursts out of me before I can stop it. "Why would you help me?"
Soren finally looks at me directly. Really looks at me. And what I see in his expression is complicated—guilt and regret and something that might be genuine concern.
"Because I owe you," he says quietly. "Because I treated you abominably for years, and this is the least I can do to make amends." He pauses. "And because if you fail this Challenge, it reflects poorly on me. On my judgment. I may have cast you aside, but I was still married to the daughter of Elder Silas Nyx. People will question why I didn't see it."
There it is. The truth beneath the pretty words. He's not here out of altruism. He's here because my failure becomes his embarrassment.
"Political damage control," Sebastian says, voice dripping with contempt. "How noble."
"I never claimed to be noble." Soren's eyes flash. "I'm being honest about my motivations. Which is more than most would do."
"Your honesty is worth nothing," Sebastian moves away from the door, and I watch him position himself slightly in front of me. Protective. Possessive. "You had plenty of time to help her. To teach her. To treat her like she mattered. You chose not to."
"I'm aware of my failures." Soren's voice tightens. "I'm trying to correct them."
"A few years too late."
"Better late than—"
"Enough," Silas repeats, and this time there's power behind it. Both men fall silent, though the hostility between them hasn't dimmed. "Tessa. This is your decision. Do you want his help?"
All eyes turn to me.
I look at Soren—the man who married me, dismissed me, announced his intention to replace me in front of hundreds. The man who let his family throw me out to die at sunrise. Every cell in my body screams to refuse him, to tell him exactly what he can do with his help.
But I'm not stupid. And I'm not too proud to accept assistance when I need it.
"What exactly would this training involve?" I ask.
"Influence works on the principle of will overpowering will," Soren explains, slipping into the role of teacher with practiced ease. "You project your intention into another's mind, commanding obedience. It requires focus, power, and understanding of how consciousness works. I can teach you the fundamentals."
"In three days."
"In three days," he confirms. "It won't make you a master. But it will be enough to demonstrate the ability during the Trial."
I glance at Sebastian. His expression is thunderous, but he gives me the smallest nod. He doesn't like this, but he won't stop me if I think it's necessary.
Then I look at Silas. My father. His face is carefully neutral, but I can see the calculation behind his eyes. He's weighing risks and benefits, political ramifications, potential outcomes.
"The Trial tests multiple aspects of bloodline," Silas says slowly. "Influence is only one component. But it's significant. And you're right that Tessa hasn't been trained in it." He drums his fingers on the desk. "If you're offering to help, Lord Ravencrest, I'd be a fool to refuse purely out of pride."
"Then I can stay?" Soren asks.
"You can stay." Silas's tone makes it clear this is a conditional arrangement. "You'll have access to the training facilities and Tessa's time, under supervision. You'll lodge in the guest quarters. And you'll conduct yourself with appropriate respect for House Nyx and its heir."
The emphasis on "heir" is deliberate. A reminder of what I am now. What Soren failed to see when he had the chance.
"Understood," Soren says.
"Sebastian will be present during all training sessions," Silas continues. "Non-negotiable."
I see Soren's jaw tighten, but he nods. "Of course."
The thought of the two of them in the same room, watching each other, circling like wolves, makes my stomach clench. But it's better than having Soren alone with me. Better for multiple reasons I don't want to examine too closely.
"Then we have an agreement." Silas stands, signaling the meeting's end. "Training begins tomorrow at dawn. Don't waste time."
Soren bows, formal and precise. "Thank you, Elder Silas." His eyes find mine again. "Tessa. I'll see you in the morning."
He leaves, and the moment the door closes, Sebastian speaks.
"This is a mistake."
"Maybe," I admit. "But it's my mistake to make."
"He's using you. Using this situation to rehabilitate his reputation."
"I know." I move closer to him, lowering my voice. "But he's also right. I don't know how to use Influence. And if that's part of the Trial, I need to learn. Fast."
Sebastian's hands clench into fists. "I don't trust him."
"Neither do I." I reach out, my fingers brushing his. "But I trust you. And you'll be there. Watching."
Something in his expression shifts. The anger doesn't disappear, but it's joined by something warmer. Something that makes my pulse quicken.
"I'll be watching," he agrees quietly. "Very closely."
The promise in those words has nothing to do with Soren and everything to do with what we started in that alcove. What we'll finish eventually, when duty stops interrupting.