The summons came long after midnight.
Ariaxa had barely closed her eyes in the harem dormitory when the door slammed open and Riven appeared, shadow-bound and silent.
“Now,” he said.
She didn’t ask why. The collar buzzed faintly at her throat, warning her that hesitation meant pain. She slipped from her bed, following Riven down the dim corridor, her bare feet whispering across cold stone.
The palace was eerily quiet at this hour. No laughter from nobles. No music from distant halls. No Seren. No danger except—
Him.
Riven stopped at the entrance to Kaedan’s private meditation chamber. He didn’t knock, didn’t announce her. He simply pushed the door open and gestured.
“Go.”
Ariaxa stepped inside.
Kaedan was pacing.
Not lounging.
Not sitting.
Not brooding in collected silence.
Pacing.
He looked like a storm in human skin — jaw clenched, hands flexing at his sides, his long coat half-unfastened as if he’d torn it open in frustration.
When he turned and saw her, something dark and raw flickered across his face.
“Close the door.”
The words were low, dangerous.
She obeyed, heart hammering.
For a long moment, he simply stared at her. No mask. No imperial calm. Just feral agitation and a tension so thick it felt like the air was bending around him.
When he finally spoke, it was through clenched teeth.
“Why,” he said, “do you keep provoking them?”
Ariaxa blinked. “Provoking who?”
“The nobles.” He stepped closer, shadows following him like hounds. “You stare at them. You flinch from them. You speak at the wrong moments. You stand too rigid or too soft. You invite their attention.”
“I don’t—”
He cut her off with a sharp gesture.
“You do.”
She swallowed. “I only react to what they do to me.”
Kaedan’s eyes flashed — not with anger, but something more volatile.
“They do what I allow.”
Ariaxa stiffened. “Then you allowed Queen Rhaelle to—”
His snarl cracked through the room. “Do not speak her name to me.”
The collar tightened. Ariaxa gasped, clutching her throat.
Kaedan closed his eyes for a moment, visibly grappling with himself. When he opened them again, the predator had returned.
“In the Convocation,” he said slowly, stalking toward her, “you looked at me. Not at them. Not at the queen. At me.”
Ariaxa’s breath stuttered.
“And you begged.”
His voice softened to a deadly whisper.
“Do you deny this?”
She shook her head, breath unsteady. “No.”
“Why?” Kaedan demanded.
She hesitated. Just for a moment.
That was all it took.
The collar tightened again — brutal and immediate. Ariaxa choked, dropping to one knee.
Kaedan loomed over her.
“Speak.”
Her voice trembled as she forced it out. “Because you were the only one who wouldn’t destroy me.”
Something fractured in his expression.
He stepped back as if her words had cut him open.
Ariaxa lifted her head slowly, still panting from the collar’s grip. “If I looked at you… it’s because you were the only person in that room who might have stopped them.”
Kaedan’s hands flexed.
“You think I would have let them?”
“You did,” she whispered.
His hand slammed against the wall beside her head. She flinched.
“Do not mistake my restraint for mercy.”
“Then what should I call it?” she asked softly.
Kaedan froze.
The tension in his body shifted — from rage into something more conflicted, more dangerous. His breathing deepened. His eyes darkened, pupils expanding.
He lifted a hand — slowly, as if against his own will — and the back of his knuckles brushed her cheek.
It was a whisper of a touch.
And it undid him.
His fingers curled instantly into a fist, as though furious he had touched her at all. He ripped his hand away, pacing again, jaw locked.
“Why do you do that?” he muttered, almost to himself.
“Do what?” Ariaxa whispered.
His stare snapped back to her, sharp as a blade.
“Look at me like I am—” He stopped, exhaling sharply. “Like you expect salvation from a monster.”
Her heart trembled.
“I don’t expect salvation,” she said quietly. “Only that you are not like them.”
The collar slammed tight around her throat again — harder this time. Ariaxa cried out, collapsing to both knees.
Kaedan’s eyes widened a fraction.
He hadn’t touched the sigil ring.
He hadn’t activated it.
His own loss of control had.
He stood absolutely still, watching her gasp for air.
“I didn’t—” he muttered under his breath. “I didn’t command that.”
The realization seemed to rattle him more than it hurt her.
Kaedan strode forward, gripping the front of the collar as he hauled her upright. She dangled slightly, toes scraping the floor.
“This,” he hissed, shaking the metal, “was forged to respond to my intent.”
Ariaxa clawed at his wrist. “Then y-your intent—”
“Is chaos,” he snarled.
He dropped her abruptly. She coughed, grabbing her throat as spots danced in her vision.
Kaedan paced again, boots echoing off stone.
“This is why I summoned you,” he said through clenched teeth. “This is why I can’t think. Why I pushed Seren away. Why I agreed to send her to Vaelen.”
Ariaxa froze.
He never spoke this openly.
Never revealed this much.
Kaedan dragged both hands through his hair, chest rising and falling with barely bridled fury.
“You are making me lose control,” he spat. “You stare at me like you can see something in me I did not allow anyone to see.”
Ariaxa whispered, “I don’t mean to.”
“Intent doesn’t matter,” he snapped.
He advanced on her again, slower this time, predator-silent. When he reached her, he caught her chin between two fingers, tilting her face up.
Her breath stilled.
His thumb brushed the corner of her mouth — light, hesitant, forbidden.
Then he yanked his hand back like the touch had burned him.
The collar tightened again, a cruel echo of his own frustration.
She gasped.
He stared at her — not with anger this time, but something raw and unfamiliar, a question wrapped in hunger and self-hatred.
When he spoke, his voice was barely more than a whisper.
“I need to know,” Kaedan said, leaning close enough that his breath brushed her lips, “what you are turning me into.”