Aria's POV
She didn't know how long she sat in the observatory tower after Kael left.
The stars were still above her, still untouched by the chaos unfolding inside her. But something inside Aria had broken open—a deep, ugly wound that pulsed with betrayal, confusion… and something dangerously close to guilt.
Could it be true?
Could everything she'd believed for years—everything that fueled her hatred—be based on lies?
She remembered the way Kael had looked at her, not with triumph, but with agony. The kind of pain you carried for too long, too deeply, until it carved itself into your soul.
She hadn't asked him to stay.
And he hadn't asked her to believe him.
He had simply given her the truth… and walked away.
Her hand trembled as she held the letter again. Her father's seal. His handwriting. Words that shouldn't exist. Orders that dripped with treason.
And suddenly, the war wasn't as simple as black and white.
---
Later that morning, Aria found herself in the castle gardens.
She needed air. And distance.
It was strange—Kael had not summoned her. He hadn't tried to chain her again, nor had he ordered her movements.
She was free. In theory.
But even now, she felt his presence threading through her thoughts, his voice echoing like thunder after a storm. She wasn't sure if it was the bond or her own foolish heart… but she could feel him.
He was hurting.
And that terrified her more than hatred ever had.
"Deep in thought?" a voice said behind her.
Aria turned.
A tall woman in emerald robes stood on the path, flanked by two guards. She was beautiful—graceful in a calculated way, with dark hair swept into an elegant knot and piercing green eyes that assessed Aria like a threat.
"Do I know you?" Aria asked cautiously.
The woman smiled. "Not yet. But we will become quite familiar, I think."
"Should I be worried?"
"That depends." She stepped forward, extending a perfectly manicured hand. "I'm Lady Veyra of the Verdant Court. Envoy of the Council. And the Alpha King's proposed Luna."
Aria froze.
Every part of her went rigid.
Veyra's smile widened. "Oh. He didn't tell you? How awkward."
---
Kael's POV
Kael stood before the High Council with every ounce of control he could muster.
The chamber was vast and cold, stone pillars rising like spines around the circle. Seven chairs. Seven council members. All of them old. Dangerous. Calculating.
They'd summoned him without warning.
Which could only mean one thing: they wanted leverage.
And they'd brought Veyra with them.
"Your Majesty," said Elder Mordric, steepling his fingers. "We've heard… troubling rumors."
Kael said nothing.
"You've taken a prisoner from the Vale bloodline," Mordric continued. "A surviving heir."
"She is no threat," Kael said calmly. "The war is over."
"She is a symbol, Kael. The people talk. The court whispers. Some say you've mated her."
His jaw clenched. "That's none of the Council's concern."
"Oh, but it is," Veyra purred, stepping into the chamber. "The kingdom needs stability. And the Alpha King needs a Luna. One who isn't a rebel or a reminder of blood spilled."
Kael turned toward her, eyes flashing gold.
"Careful, Veyra."
She didn't flinch. "I'm offering you a way to keep your crown. To prove to the packs that your bond hasn't blinded your judgment."
"I won this crown in blood," Kael growled. "And I'll keep it the same way if I have to."
"You've always ruled with fear," Mordric said. "Perhaps it's time to rule with alliances."
"I already have one," Kael said. "With fate."
"That's not enough anymore."
The warning in those words was clear.
---
Aria's POV
She didn't remember storming into the war wing.
Didn't remember snapping at the guards. Or bursting through Kael's doors like a fury on fire.
But she remembered his face when he saw her.
Surprised. Tired. A flicker of something like relief—before his mask slammed back into place.
"You didn't tell me," she said.
"About Veyra?"
"Yes."
"There was nothing to tell. The Council sent her. I didn't ask for her."
"Did you refuse her?"
"Yes."
She paused. "Will you keep refusing her?"
Kael's voice was quiet. "That depends on you."
The air thickened.
Aria stared at him, trying to read past the anger, the pride, the hurt.
"You're still angry," he said. "That I lied."
"I'm angry," she snapped, "because none of this makes sense. My father was the enemy. But so were you. And now I don't know who I am, or what to believe, or why it hurts when you look at me like that."
Kael stepped closer. "Like what?"
"Like you're afraid I'll leave."
He was silent.
Then, softly—"I am."
Aria's heart twisted.
"I want to hate you," she whispered.
"Then hate me."
"I'm trying."
"Try harder."
But his voice was breaking.
And then, before she could stop herself, she crossed the room and kissed him.
Not soft.
Not tender.
Desperate.
His hands gripped her waist, hauling her close. Their bodies collided like flame to dry kindling, and for a moment, all the wars and lies and blood vanished between them.
Only this existed.
Only now.
Only them.
But it ended too soon.
Because Aria pulled away, breathless, eyes wide.
"I can't."
Kael nodded once. The pain in his eyes nearly shattered her.
"Then I'll wait," he said.
"For how long?"
His voice was low. Certain. "As long as it takes."