Ariaxa couldn’t sleep.
The palace was too loud even in silence—wards humming, stone breathing, the bond pulling restlessly at her ribs like a caged animal.
She stood barefoot by the balcony doors, wrapped in a thin robe, moonlight painting her in silver and faint gold. Below, Vharon sprawled in shadows and scattered torchlight, unaware that its rulers were being strangled slowly by an invisible curse.
A soft knock sounded.
Not the heavy, insistent pounding of Kaedan.
A measured, careful tap.
“Ariaxa?” Riven’s voice, low and cautious, came through the door. “May I come in?”
She hesitated, fingers tightening on the curtain.
“If Kaedan finds you in here—”
“He’s in the lower sanctum,” Riven answered quietly. “Shouting at ghosts and bleed-staining wards. I wouldn’t risk this if he were near.”
She exhaled and opened the door.
Riven slipped inside, closing it gently behind him. He wore only a loose dark shirt and trousers, hair damp from training or washing blood off—she couldn’t tell which. Shadows clung to his cheekbones, and for the first time, he looked… uncertain.
“Riven,” she frowned. “What’s wrong?”
He studied her for a moment, eyes dark and searching. “I need to tell you something. I should have told you a long time ago.”
“That sounds like something I won’t like,” she tried to joke.
He didn’t smile.
Her chest tightened. “All right. Talk.”
He glanced at the corridor, then crossed the room, keeping a careful distance between them but radiating tension like heat.
“Years ago,” he began slowly, “before you were ever dragged into the Blood Court, before Kaedan took the throne… I was not his loyal commander.”
She went very still.
“I was one of the Triarchs’ infiltrators,” he said, voice flat, as if forcing the words out before he could stop himself. “Planted in Vharon to observe, to report, to weaken from within when the time came.”
Ariaxa’s breath caught. “You… were a spy.”
“Yes.” His jaw flexed. “I learned the palace. Its cracks. Its people. The boy prince who had just lost his mother. I was meant to catalogue his weaknesses and deliver them to the Triarchs like a map.”
She felt a ripple of anger and something else—hurt—flare through her. “And did you?”
“No.” His eyes finally lifted to meet hers. “I couldn’t.”
Silence stretched, taut and heavy.
“Why?” she demanded.
“Because they lied.” His mouth twisted bitterly. “They taught us that the Dravens were nothing but monsters. That your people were righteous, those chained were blameless, and Kaedan was a mindless butcher who needed to be put down like a rabid dog.”
“Isn’t that what everyone says?” she murmured.
Riven shook his head. “But I saw him. I saw the boy who woke screaming every night from tortures he never asked for. I saw the young king who walked into the Blood Courts instead of hiding in his chambers when punishments were delivered. I saw him stop his father from raising the lash one night and take the strike himself.”
Ariaxa’s throat tightened.
“He loved his people,” Riven said quietly. “Broken and twisted as he was. He cared. And the Triarchs… they didn’t want justice. They wanted control. So I turned. Slowly. Quietly. I fed them half-truths and delayed their plans, all while placing myself closer to Kaedan. I pretended it was strategy.”
“Pretended,” Ariaxa echoed. “Meaning it became… something else.”
Riven’s gaze dropped to her hands. He studied the way her fingers gripped the edge of her robe, the faint glow of her mark beneath the silk.
“I became his blade,” he said. “His shield. I dragged him out of his own head when the scars screamed too loud. I made sure the poisons in his food touched my lips first. I would have died for him…” He swallowed. “And then you arrived.”
She exhaled, trying to keep her voice steady. “As his slave.”
“As the Sun Princess who stared at him with hatred and still defended another slave at your own expense on your first night,” Riven corrected.
Her breath hitched. “You… you were there?”
“I’ve always been there,” he murmured. “In the shadows. Watching. Waiting for our enemies. And then I saw you stand between a whipping post and a trembling girl you didn’t even know. Knowing you’d be punished worse. Knowing what he was capable of. And you did it anyway.”
Her chest rose sharply.
Something in his face softened—something he’d never allowed her to see before.
“I loved you,” he said, quiet and unflinching, “from that moment.”
The world tilted.
Ariaxa stared at him, throat working. “Riven…”
“I know,” he added quickly, a bitter laugh scraping out. “I know what you feel. For him. I feel it every time he looks at you like you’re the only thing keeping him tethered to this world. I know the bond is his. Yours. Not mine. I am not asking you for anything.”
“Then why tell me?” she whispered.
His hands clenched at his sides.
“Because you keep trying to save him alone,” he said. “Because this curse will eat you both alive. Because Kaedan refuses to let you risk yourself—but he also refuses to let you go. And I—” His voice broke for the first time she’d ever heard. “I can’t stand by and watch the two of you bleed for each other while I hold a blade that could help.”
Her eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”
“I still know their secrets,” he said. “The Triarchs’. The old rites. The pieces of prophecy they didn’t share with anyone else. I can help you break this curse, Ariaxa. Even if he refuses to let you try. Even if he locks himself in stone.”
“You’d betray them… again,” she murmured.
“I betrayed them the day I chose him,” Riven said. “And I’d betray him the day I choose you, if that’s what it took to keep you breathing.”
Her pulse jumped. “Riven—”
He stepped closer.
Not close enough to touch her—yet close enough that his breath warmed her cheek, close enough that she could see the strain in his jaw, the war in his eyes.
“I would die for you,” he said, low and rough. “You understand that? This isn’t some court crush. I have watched you survive things that would have shattered anyone else. Watched him carve the world apart for you. And every time you fight for anyone but yourself, I… I want to put my body between you and all of it and never move again.”
Heat pooled beneath her skin. The bond flared—not with Kaedan’s rage this time, but with a strange echo: jealousy, somewhere far away in the palace, stirring like a waking beast.
Riven sucked in a breath, as if he felt the echo too.
“I know this is wrong,” he forced out. “I know he’d kill me if he knew I said this. But if you decide to fight the curse, to face the old magic, to dig through blood and bone to find the key—do not do it alone. Use me. Use what I am, what I was, what I know. Let me be something other than his shadow and your guard.”
She searched his face, heart pounding.
“You’re asking me to trust you,” she said.
“Yes.” His gaze didn’t waver. “In this, at least.”
“And what if you still serve them?” she asked softly. “What if the infiltrator part of you never really left?”
Riven’s mouth twisted.
“Then you’ll have to kill me,” he said. “And I’ll let you. Because if I ever raise a blade against you, I won’t deserve to draw another breath.”
Silence stretched between them, thick and trembling.
Ariaxa stepped closer without realizing, the space between them narrowing until she could feel the warmth of his chest, the tension in him.
“Riven…” she whispered, unsure whether it was warning or thanks.
He exhaled sharply, eyes dropping to her mouth for a fraction of a second before he dragged them away.
“I will help you break this,” he said. “Even if Kaedan won’t. Even if he hates me for it. Even if it means I never get to—”
He cut himself off, jaw locking.
“Never get to what?” she asked, voice barely audible.
He laughed once, bitter. “Never get to imagine what it would be like if you had walked into this palace free, without chains, without a bond tying you to someone else.”
Her chest clenched.
The bond snapped tight like a whip.
Ariaxa’s head turned toward the door before the air even shifted.
Riven noticed a split-second later.
Kaedan stood there.
In the doorway.
Shoulder pressed to the frame, hair falling messily over his eyes, shirt unlaced at the throat, bare feet silent on the stone. A predator who had heard the wrong sound in his own den.
His gaze flicked over the scene: Riven too close, Ariaxa flushed and barefoot in thin silk.
Jealousy—raw and ugly and terrifying—exploded through the bond, slamming into her chest like a fist.
“Kaedan,” she breathed.
He didn’t look at her.
His eyes were locked on Riven, burning with a darkness that made the room feel suddenly smaller.
When he spoke, his voice was a low, lethal growl.
“If you want the Sun Queen,” he said, “you’ll have to fight me for her.”