The room filled with wind and magic. It wasn’t gentle. It hit like a wave—hot, metallic, laced with something ancient. Curtains snapped. Candles flared out. The air itself seemed to hum with warning.
I turned to Alexander just as he dropped to his knees. His chest heaved. His skin shimmered like moonlight was crawling under it, trying to break free. He clutched his ribs and let out a sound between a scream and a snarl.
“Alexander—” I reached for him, but he jerked back, claws splitting through the tips of his fingers. Silver crawled across his arms like veins of fire. His spine arched unnaturally, bones cracking. His eyes—his beautiful eyes—flared gold, then beast-black.
“Don’t—” he gasped, voice torn and guttural. “Don’t stay. Don’t watch.”
But I didn’t move.
I stepped closer.
And took his hand.
It was shaking. Rough. Half-shifted. The claws pricked my skin—but he didn’t pull away.
“Don’t fight it,” I whispered. “Feel it. With me.”
He growled. A deep, broken thing that rattled through the floorboards. His shoulders widened. His jaw stretched. For a moment, I thought I saw the prince vanish into something unrecognizable.
“Don’t touch me,” he choked out. “I—I might lose control—”
“You won’t,” I said firmly. “You haven’t yet.”
His body trembled like something inside him was being ripped in two. The curse pulsed through his veins, warping muscle and bone. I could feel it—feel him—straining between man and monster, clinging to the edge.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” he growled, pain lining every word.
“Then don’t.” I squeezed his hand. “You still have a choice.”
His mouth opened in a cry that wasn’t human. Fangs glinted behind his lips. A tear slid down the side of his face—but it evaporated before it could fall.
“You don’t understand—this thing in me—it’s not just rage, Marianne. It’s hunger.”
“Then be hungry,” I said. “But let me be the thing that tethers you.”
He growled again, louder this time, the walls shaking from the force. One of the mirrors cracked behind us. A table overturned. My heart pounded, but I stayed. I didn’t flinch. Not this time.
His chest heaved. His breath came ragged, but something changed. His claws curled, not to strike—but to hold tighter.
And then, the beast in him blinked.
The golden fury in his eyes dimmed. His breath slowed. And he leaned forward.
Gently. Carefully.
Resting his forehead to mine.
Still him.
The silver shimmer on his skin began to retreat. Like the curse itself was listening. Like it was learning him. Learning us.
It didn’t vanish completely. But it slowed. Softened. Like a tide pulled by choice—not chains.
He let out a long, rattling breath against my cheek. “I felt you,” he whispered. “Even through the pain. You kept me from disappearing.”
“I wasn’t going to lose you,” I breathed.
His shoulders slumped. His claws dulled back to fingers. His jaw reset, still sharp, still inhuman—but calmer. Not a monster. Not a prince.
Something in between.
When it ended, he collapsed against me, chest heaving, breath burning.
Still half-shifted. Still wild.
But not gone.
“You stayed,” he rasped, voice wrecked and raw. “You saw—and you stayed.”
I curled my arms around him. “Always.”
He buried his face against my neck. “You should’ve been afraid.”
“I was,” I whispered. “But not of you.”
He shuddered. “I felt it. The breaking. The change. But then—your voice. It pulled me back.”
“I wasn’t pulling you,” I said. “I was walking with you.”
He trembled against me. “Marianne… if this never goes away, if I’m always this—would you still—?”
“Yes.” I pulled back, looking him in the eyes. “Even if it gets worse. Even if it hurts. I’d rather be here with you than anywhere else with someone safe.”
A silence fell between us. Not empty. Just full of the storm we’d survived.
Then—behind us—a shift in the room.
A shadow moved near the doorway.
I turned.
And saw her.
The Queen.
She stood just inside the threshold, hands clasped in front of her, lips pressed into something unreadable.
I expected judgment. I expected fear.
But then—slowly—she stepped forward.
Her eyes met mine. Then Alexander’s.
And she bowed.