[Sebastian's POV]
"—powerful enough to lead this entire court."
The words finish leaving my mouth, and for a moment, I don't understand why Tessa is staring at me with tears streaming down her face. Why Soren looks like someone just gutted him. Why the air in the room feels thick with tension I wasn't present for.
Then memory crashes back.
Shut up.
Her voice. Her will. Slamming into my consciousness like a physical blow, and then—nothing. Emptiness. A gap in time where I should have been present but wasn't.
She Influenced me. Successfully.
"Training's done," Tessa says, her voice brittle and broken. "I think we've accomplished enough for today."
She turns toward the door, and I see her hands shaking. See the way she's holding herself together by sheer force of will.
"Tessa, wait—" Soren moves to follow her.
My hand shoots out, catches his arm. "Don't."
He turns on me, and there's something wild in his eyes. Desperate. "Get your hand off me, Enforcer."
"Give her space." I don't release him. "That's the last thing she needs right now."
"You don't know what she needs." Soren tries to pull free, but I hold firm. "I was her husband. I know—"
"You know nothing about her." The words come out colder than I intend. "All those years of marriage and you never learned the first thing about who she actually is. When she's—right now she needs space. Distance. Time to process without someone pushing."
"And you know this because?" His voice drips with contempt. "You've known her for weeks?"
"Because I've been watching." I lean in closer, let him see the threat in my eyes. "I've been watching her for months, years. Watching how she handles stress. How she recovers. How she needs to be alone first before she can let anyone close. I know her better than you ever did, and you can't stand that."
Something flashes across Soren's face. Rage and recognition and something that might be shame.
I release him and head for the door. Behind me, I hear him start to follow.
"Move another step and we'll have a problem," I say without turning around. "A serious one."
Silence. Then footsteps retreating.
Good. He's smarter than he looks.
I find her in the garden an hour later.
The air around her shimmers with power—visible, tangible, wrong. Plants are wilting in a perfect circle around where she stands, their leaves browning and curling as if drained of life. The stone beneath her feet has started to crack, spiderwebbing outward.
She's losing control.
"Tessa." I keep my voice level, calm. Non-threatening. "Look at me."
She doesn't respond. Her eyes are unfocused, and power rolls off her in waves that make my skin prickle. This isn't intentional Influence. This is raw, uncontrolled magic responding to emotional overload.
This is dangerous.
"Tessa," I try again, moving closer slowly. "You need to breathe. Focus on my voice."
"I can't—" Her voice is strangled. "I can't stop it. I can feel it building and I can't—"
"Yes, you can." I'm close enough now to touch her, but I don't. Not yet. "You controlled it earlier. When you Influenced me. That was focused. Precise. You can do it again."
She stays silent, shaking, trying to at least hear my voice.
"Look at me," I command, putting force behind the words. Not Influence—just authority she can grab onto. Something solid in the chaos. "Tessa. Eyes on me. Now."
Her gaze snaps to mine, and I see the fear there. The panic. The overwhelming sense that she's drowning in her own power.
"Good," I say quietly. "Now breathe. In through your nose. Out through your mouth. Match my breathing."
I demonstrate, slow and steady. After a moment, she tries to follow. Her breath comes out ragged, but she's trying.
"Again," I encourage. "You're not alone in this. I'm right here."
"I’m—I’m sorry," she whispers. "I can’t do this—" Her voice cracks. "I can't. I'm not strong enough. I'm going to fail the Challenge and prove them all right and—"
"Stop." I do touch her now, my hands on her shoulders. Grounding her. "Stop spiraling. Look at what you did today. You Influenced me. Me, Tessa. Do you understand how difficult that is? How much power that takes?"
"But I can't control it!" The power flares again, and I feel it brush against my consciousness. Not Influence, but close. Dangerous. "I can barely breathe without it trying to break free. What happens during the Challenge when I'm already terrified? When everyone's watching? I'll lose control completely. I'll hurt someone. I'll—"
"You won't." My voice is firm. Absolute. "Because I'll be there. Right there in that throne room, watching. If you start to lose control, you look at me. Focus on me. Use me as your anchor."
"Sebastian—"
"I mean it." My hands tighten on her shoulders. "Whatever happens during that Challenge, you're not facing it alone. I don't care what the rules say. I don't care who objects. You look at me, and I'll help you hold it together."
Something shifts in her expression. The panic recedes slightly, pushed back by trust. By belief that maybe—maybe—she can actually do this.
The power around her starts to settle. Still there, still enormous, but no longer wildly out of control. The plants stop dying. The stone stops cracking.
She's breathing more evenly now, and when she looks at me, she's actually seeing me.
"I'm sorry," she whispers. "For Influencing you. For taking away your control. I didn't mean to—"
"I know." I cut her off gently. "I pushed you to it. Deliberately. You needed to access that anger, that power, and I gave you a target. It worked."
"But it's not working now." Her voice is small. "I'm falling apart, Sebastian. Everything's too much and I don't know how to—"
"You're not falling apart. You're processing." I force her to meet my eyes. "You Influenced someone for the first time. You confronted your ex-husband. You're carrying the weight of an entire bloodline's expectations. That's not falling apart—that's being human. Well. Human enough."
A ghost of a smile crosses her face, but it disappears quickly.
“You need to rest a bit,” I remind her. She nods, resigned, so I hold her by the shoulders to lead her into her chambers.
The Challenge is in two days, and I'm not sure she's ready.
But whether she's ready or not doesn't matter. Because I'll be damned if I let anyone—including the Trial itself—destroy her.
I'll protect her from the enemies who want her to fail. From the expectations that threaten to crush her. From herself if necessary.
Even if it means breaking every rule I've ever followed.
Even if it means choosing her over my duty.
I head toward Silas's study, already preparing the conversation in my head. Already planning how to keep her safe from what's coming.
Whatever it takes.