The news traveled like a living thing — fast, vicious, hungry.
Whispers raced down marble corridors and slithered under velvet curtains. Servants dropped trays. Nobles choked on their wine. Guards exchanged glances sharper than blades.
The Emperor took her.
In the forbidden wing.
He touched her.
He lost control.
By midday, every corner of the palace echoed with the same phrase:
“Kaedan took the Sun Princess.”
And the harem broke.
The moment the rumor reached the wing, the slaves erupted in a frenzy. Some screamed in disbelief. Others burst into sobs, clutching their collars in fear. A few collapsed onto cushions, whispering that the world had ended. And in the far corner, a cluster of women — the ones who had once worshiped Seren like a queen — gathered with eyes bright as daggers.
They were the ones who had lost the most.
“Do you understand?” one hissed, pacing, nails digging into her palms. “If he keeps the princess… Seren is finished.”
“And if Seren falls, we fall,” another whispered.
A third, older, with a jagged scar along her jaw, slammed her hand on the pillar.
“The balance is broken. She needs to die.”
A ripple of agreement moved through them like a cold wind.
“Tonight,” the scarred one said. “Before the Emperor realizes what he’s done.”
Ariaxa sensed the shift long before she heard it.
She’d been pacing Kaedan’s chamber, restless and unsure, trying to steady her breath in a room that still smelled like him—smoke, steel, and the faint sweetness of the oils from last night. Her bruises throbbed. The imprint of his hands still burned on her hips. Every memory fluttered through her mind like sparks threatening to ignite.
Kaedan had left hours ago, not saying where. Only that she was not to leave.
At first, she took comfort in the silence.
Then she heard footsteps.
Not one pair.
Multiple.
Soft. Synchronized. Intentional.
Her breath stilled.
The latch on the door clicked.
Six slaves slipped inside, clad in whisper-thin silks that hid the shapes of hidden weapons. Blades glinted at their backs. Chains dangled from their hands.
They closed the door behind them.
Ariaxa backed up instinctively. “What are you doing?”
The scarred woman stepped forward, eyes burning with fanatic purpose.
“What should have been done the moment you arrived.”
Another produced a narrow, curved blade from her sleeve.
“You’ve ruined everything.”
A third circled to Ariaxa’s side.
“You touched him. You made him weak.”
Ariaxa clenched her fists. “I didn’t—”
“Lie,” one spat. “We all saw what he looked like this morning. Half-rabid. Half… yours.”
A chill raced down Ariaxa’s spine.
“You don’t understand,” Ariaxa whispered. “Kaedan gave orders—”
The leader cut her off with a cold smile.
“He’s not here.”
The six moved at once.
Ariaxa lunged for the far side of the bed, grabbing a decorative dagger from the nightstand. Her heart hammered.
“You’ll have to kill me to stop me.”
The scarred woman shrugged.
“That is the plan.”
They rushed her.
Ariaxa slashed first, slicing the arm of the nearest attacker. The woman hissed in pain, stumbling back. But the others were faster. Two grabbed Ariaxa’s wrists, yanking the dagger from her hand. Another swept her legs from under her, sending her crashing onto the bed.
“No—!” Ariaxa fought, kicking, twisting, her nails scraping skin, her breath wild.
A chain looped around her ankle, tightening.
Another bound her wrists above her head.
Silks were yanked aside as they tied her to the bedframe with brutal efficiency.
“You think you can take on all of us?” one laughed breathlessly.
“How brave,” another mocked. “How stupid.”
Ariaxa tugged violently at the restraints, the metal biting into her skin. Panic flickered in her vision.
“Untie me!” she shouted. “He’ll kill you for this!”
The leader leaned in close, her breath ghosting over Ariaxa’s cheek.
“No. He’ll thank us.”
Ariaxa stilled.
“What?”
“He’s losing himself. We’re saving him. Saving the empire.” The leader pressed the cold blade against Ariaxa’s sternum. “You are the end of Nocthara.”
Ariaxa sucked in a shaky breath.
“You’re wrong.”
The woman smirked.
“Tonight, we end you.”
Ariaxa’s pulse hammered. She twisted against the chains, but they were too tight. Her chest heaved, nails clawing at nothing, desperation burning like fire under her skin.
The six women closed in, circling the bed like wolves.
One lifted the blade.
Another tightened the chains.
A third whispered, “For Seren.”
Then—
The door slammed open.
The sound cracked through the chamber like a thunderclap.
Every head snapped toward the entrance.
Kaedan stood in the doorway.
His chest rose and fell with dangerous calm. His coat was half undone, black hair falling into his eyes — eyes that glowed a deep, blood-red that made the candles flicker wildly against the walls.
Those eyes locked onto Ariaxa first.
Bound.
Bruised.
Terrified.
Then they shifted to the six slaves.
The temperature in the room dropped.
No one moved.
Kaedan’s voice came out low, lethal, each word vibrating like the growl of an ancient beast.
“What,” he asked softly, “do you think you’re doing?”