POV: Ravenna
I woke before dawn with my heart already racing and my stomach twisted into knots that had nothing to do with hunger.
Today Theron would fight Lucien. Today one of them might die.
The thought sat in my chest like a stone. Heavy and cold and impossible to ignore. I'd spent the night tossing and turning, tangled in silk sheets that felt like chains, watching shadows move across my ceiling and imagining every terrible outcome. Theron bleeding out in the sand. Lucien's victory smile. The bond between me and Havoc shattering like glass.
I couldn't stay in bed. Couldn't pretend to sleep while my mind spun through every terrible possibility on an endless, torturous loop. So I dressed quickly in the pre-dawn darkness—plain tunic and breeches, nothing royal, nothing that screamed princess. Just simple clothes that let me move. Let me breathe.
I braided my hair quickly, fingers fumbling with exhaustion and fear. Left my chambers before Morgana could wake in the adjoining room and ask questions I didn't have answers to. Questions like: Why are you awake at this hour? Where are you going? Are you finally admitting you care about him?
The castle was quiet. Most people still sleeping before the trial that would draw every soul in Cindravale to the arena. Guards nodded to me as I passed but didn't question. Probably thought I couldn't sleep. They weren't wrong.
The training yard was empty except for one figure moving through the grey morning light.
Theron.
He moved through sword forms in human form, his blade catching what little pre-dawn light existed and throwing it back like scattered stars. Smooth. Controlled. Economical. Every movement stripped down to exactly what was needed and nothing more. Warming up for the fight that would determine everything. The fight that could end his life or Lucien's or both.
His arm was healed now—Lysander's work combined with dragon resilience and two weeks of recovery—but I could still see the scar where the arrow had pierced through. Another mark added to the collection that mapped his body. Another story of survival written in his skin.
The arrow meant for me.
I stood in the shadows at the edge of the yard and just watched him for a moment. Watched the way he moved—precise, deliberate, nothing wasted. Everything he did was like that. Stripped down to what mattered. No flourishes. No unnecessary drama. Just efficiency and purpose and thirty-one years of learning exactly how much a body could endure.
He stopped mid-form and turned. Like he'd known I was there the whole time.
"Ravenna." My name in his voice always did something to my chest.
I stepped into the yard. "I didn't mean to interrupt."
"You're not." He lowered the sword. His face was calm but his eyes—those amber eyes—showed the weight of what he faced today.
We stood there in the grey morning light, five feet apart, and the hum between us was so loud I could barely hear my own thoughts.
"I needed to say something," I said. "Before the combat begins."
He waited. Patient as stone. Patient as he'd been through everything I'd thrown at him.
"I've spent three weeks fighting this." My voice came out steadier than I felt. Stronger than the trembling mess I was inside. "Fighting the bond. Fighting against caring. Fighting against letting myself feel anything for you or anyone in this godsforsaken competition."
His expression didn't change but something shifted in his eyes. Wariness mixed with hope mixed with fear. Like he was bracing for impact. For another rejection to add to his collection.
"But I can't fight anymore." The words came faster now, tumbling out before I could second-guess them or talk myself out of this or retreat back behind my walls. "I care about you, Theron. I don't want to. I didn't plan to. I tried SO hard not to. But I do."
"Ravenna—" His voice was rough. Raw.
"No, let me finish." I stepped closer, close enough to smell leather and steel and the faint scent of ash that clung to all fire-kingdom dragons. "I want you to survive today. Not just because of the bond. Not just because Solace would shatter if something happened to Havoc. But because I want a future with you. With this. With us."
He was staring at me like I'd just performed a miracle.
"I spent so long trying to destroy this competition," I continued. "Trying to sabotage everyone, including you. Especially you, maybe, because you scared me the most. But I'm done sabotaging. I'm done fighting what's already here."
"You don't know what you're saying." His voice was rough. Raw. "I might not survive today."
"Then survive," I said fiercely. "Survive because I'm asking you to. Survive because I finally stopped being a coward about this and I'm not ready for it to end."
He set the sword down carefully. Deliberately. Like he needed the time to process what I'd just said. Then he took three steps toward me until we were close enough that I could see the grey threading through his dark hair, the faint lines around his eyes that made him look older than thirty-one, the way his jaw was clenched like he was holding back words.
"I have survived five rejections," he said quietly. Each word measured. Careful. "Five women who looked at me and decided I wasn't worth the pain of accepting the bond. Five times I felt my soul start to merge with someone else's only to have it torn apart when they said no. I survived because Havoc wouldn't let me quit. Because giving up felt like surrendering to the ones who'd rejected me."
He paused. Swallowed hard.
"But this—you saying this now, before I walk into that arena—this is the cruelest thing anyone could do to me if you don't mean it."
The words hit me like a physical blow. Because he thought I was playing with him. Thought maybe this was another strategy. Another way to sabotage.
And I'd earned that suspicion, hadn't I? With my poison and my plans and my walls built so high I couldn't see over them.
"Is me telling you I'm not going to be the sixth rejection." I reached up and touched his face, tracing the scar that ran from temple to jaw. He flinched but didn't pull away. "I'm choosing you, Theron. I'm choosing this. So you need to come back to me today."
His hand came up to cover mine where it rested against his scarred cheek. His palm was warm and calloused and steady.
"I will do everything in my power," he said, "to come back to you."
The sun was starting to rise behind him, painting the sky in shades of fire and blood. Appropriate for what was coming.
I stepped closer until there was no space between us. Until I could feel the heat of him, the solid reality of him. The hum between us crescendoed into something that felt like music and agony all at once.
"Ravenna," he breathed.
I kissed him.
Brief. Fierce. Desperate. Pouring three weeks of fighting and denial and fear into the press of my lips against his. He made a sound low in his throat and kissed me back with a gentleness that made my chest ache.
When we broke apart we were both breathing hard.
"Come back," I whispered against his mouth.
"I promise I will try."
Not a guarantee. He couldn't give me that. But the trying—the promise to fight for a future we both suddenly wanted—that was enough.
It had to be enough.
I pulled away before I could lose my nerve or start crying or do something else humiliating. "I should go. I need to—there's things I need to do before the trial."
He nodded. Picked up his sword. But his eyes stayed on me.
"Theron?" I paused at the edge of the yard.
"Yes?"
"Make him regret attacking Solace."
Something fierce and protective flashed across his face. "I will."
I left him there in the growing light, my lips still tingling from the kiss, my heart lodged somewhere in my throat.
Today one of them would die.
But I'd finally told him the truth. I'd finally chosen him out loud instead of just in my terrified heart.
Whatever happened in that arena, at least he would know that.
At least he would fight knowing someone wanted him to survive. Knowing someone had finally chosen him.
I just prayed to all the gods who'd abandoned us that it would be enough to bring him back alive.