[Tessa's POV]
"That's not—" Soren stops himself, jaw working. "You're right. I should have taught you. I should have seen your potential. I failed you in every way that mattered."
The admission surprises me. There's no deflection in it, no political smoothness. Just raw acknowledgment.
"Then why are you here?" I demand, and my hands are shaking. "Really here. Don't tell me it's about political embarrassment. Don't give me strategy or calculation. Tell me the truth, Soren."
He's quiet for a long moment, and I watch something shift in his expression. The careful mask cracks, and what's underneath looks almost like pain.
"Because I feel guilty," he says finally. "Incredibly guilty."
"Guilty." I taste the word, test its weight. "That's it? Years of humiliation and neglect, and you feel guilty?"
"That's everything." He runs a hand through his dark hair, and for the first time, I notice the shadows under his eyes. The way he looks worn. Tired in a way that has nothing to do with sleep. "For how I treated you. For what I did. For what I let happen. For—" His voice catches. "For all of it."
Behind me, Sebastian stands frozen, eyes unfocused. A living reminder of what I just did. What I'm capable of now.
"Guilt doesn't undo anything," I say, forcing myself to focus on Soren. "Doesn't erase being invisible in my own home. Doesn't erase waking up alone every night wondering what I did wrong."
"I know." The words come out quiet. Defeated. "I know it doesn't. Nothing I do now will change what I did then. But I needed to do something. Needed to try."
"Try what, exactly?" I take a step toward him. "Try to ease your conscience? Try to look noble in front of the vampire world? What are you actually trying to accomplish here?"
"To do something good for your life." The answer comes fast, like he's been holding it back. "Not from a position of power—not as Lord Ravencrest or your former husband or anyone with authority over you. Just as someone who owes you more than he can ever repay. Someone who wants to make the wounds hurt less, even if he can't heal them."
I search his face for the lie. For the manipulation I know must be there.
But all I see is exhaustion and what might actually be genuine remorse.
"Why not before?" The question slips out before I can stop it. "Why now, when I don't need you anymore? Why not all that time ago when I was begging for scraps of your attention?"
Something cracks in his expression. "Because I didn't see you then. I was blind and arrogant and convinced I knew what mattered. I thought power was alliances and bloodlines and political positioning." He laughs, bitter and sharp. "I thought you were weak because you couldn't influence servants. Because you didn't play court politics. Because you actually felt things."
"I was weak," I hear myself say. "You made sure of that."
"No." His voice is firm. "You were never weak. I just refused to see your strength because it didn't look like what I expected. You survived years in a hostile house. You held onto yourself when everyone around you tried to erase you. You performed a Severance that should have killed us both rather than accept humiliation." His eyes hold mine. "That's not weakness, Tessa. That never was."
The words hit harder than they should. Make something in my chest tighten.
"Pretty speech," I manage. "Did you rehearse it?"
"Every word." He doesn't deny it. "On the entire ride here. Trying to figure out what to say that wouldn't sound hollow. Trying to find words that might actually mean something." A pause. "I don't think such words exist."
Silence falls between us, and suddenly I can't breathe. Can't think past the memories crashing over me like waves. All the nights I waited for him. All the times I convinced myself tomorrow would be different. All the ways I twisted myself into smaller and smaller shapes, trying to fit into what he wanted, trying to be enough.
I was never enough.
"Stop." The word bursts out of me. "Just stop looking at me like that."
"Like what?"
"Like you actually care!" My hands are shaking. "Like you see me. You didn't see me for years, Soren. You looked right through me every single day. And now you want to stand here and pretend—"
"I'm not pretending." His voice is urgent now. "I know I didn't see you then. I know I was blind and cruel and—"
"You were worse than cruel." The words rip out of me. "Cruel would have been simple. Clean. But you gave me just enough—just enough kindness, just enough attention—to keep me hoping. To keep me breaking myself trying to be what you needed. Do you have any idea what that does to someone?"
"Tessa—"
"No." I back away, and my spine hits the wall. Trapped. I'm trapped in here with him and Sebastian's frozen body and the weight of everything I've been trying not to feel. "You don't get to 'Tessa' me. You don't get to use my name like it means something to you now."
"It does mean something." He takes a step toward me. "It always did, I just—"
"You just what? Forgot I existed? Forgot I was your wife?" My voice is rising, and I can't stop it. "I slept alone, Soren. Do you understand that? Do you understand what it's like to fall asleep every night wondering why you're not enough? Why your own husband can't stand to touch you?"
His face goes pale. "I never meant—"
"I don't care what you meant!" I'm almost shouting now. "I care what you did! You broke me. Systematically, methodically, you broke me down until I believed I was nothing. Until I believed I deserved to be nothing. And now you want to teach me? Now you want to help?"
"Yes." His voice is raw. "Because I need to—"
"I don't care what you need!" The words explode out of me. "For once in your life, stop thinking about what you need! Stop making this about your guilt and your redemption and your need to feel like you've done something decent!"
"That's not—"
"It is!" I'm breathing hard, and there are tears on my face that I don't remember crying. "It's always been about what you need. What you want. What serves House Ravencrest. I was never a person to you, Soren. I was a tool. A disappointment. A burden you couldn't quite get rid of."
"You're wrong." He's close now, too close. "You were never a burden. You were—"
"What?" I demand. "What was I? Tell me, since apparently you've figured it out now. What was I to you?"
He opens his mouth. Closes it. And I see him struggling, searching for words that might actually be true.
The silence stretches too long.
"That's what I thought," I say, and something in me goes cold. Distant. "You still don't know. Even now, you don't actually know what I was to you. You just know you feel guilty about losing me."
"Tessa, please—"
"And Diana?" The question comes out sharp, desperate. "She's okay with you being here? Teaching your cast-aside wife how to use power you kept from her?"
His expression shutters. "Diana doesn't care."
"Doesn't care that you're here?"
"Doesn't—" Soren starts, reaching for me.
"—powerful enough to lead this entire court."