The palace felt different after the smoke.
Thicker.
Heavier.
As if the stone itself was holding its breath.
Selene moved carefully through the halls, her heart still hammering from the encounter, the word TRAITOR carved behind her eyelids every time she blinked.
She had hidden the scrap of fabric inside the folds of her cloak, wiping the blood from her blade against the stone floor before slipping it back into its secret sheath.
The ball had not yet ended.
The court still laughed and danced and schemed in the glittering halls beyond.
But the real war was already underway.
And she was running out of time.
She did not make it halfway back to the Great Hall before two of Cassian's personal guards intercepted her.
They said nothing.
They did not need to.
One glance at their grim faces was enough.
Selene allowed them to escort her through the maze of servants' corridors, the echo of her footsteps lost against the worn stones.
They brought her to a small antechamber near Cassian's private wing.
One of the guards rapped once on the heavy oak door.
From within, a low voice answered.
"Enter."
The guard pushed the door open and stood aside.
Selene stepped through without hesitation.
The door closed behind her with a final, echoing click.
Cassian stood near the tall windows, framed by the moonlight.
He had shed the formal robes of the evening, wearing only a dark tunic and trousers.
He did not turn when she entered.
"Where were you?" he asked quietly.
Selene kept her posture relaxed, her voice light.
"I needed a moment to breathe," she said. "The court is... suffocating at times."
Cassian turned then, his face unreadable.
"The court suffocates many," he said. "It rarely drives queens to disappear without notice."
Selene smiled faintly.
"I did not realize I required permission to walk my own palace."
Cassian's mouth twitched, not quite a smile.
"Permission?" he echoed.
He crossed the room with measured steps, each one slow and deliberate.
"No," he said. "Not permission. Only caution."
He stopped a few feet from her, close enough that she could see the faint shadows under his eyes, the tension in the set of his jaw.
"You are not safe, Selene," he said.
His voice was low, raw.
"Not from them. Not from me. Not from yourself."
Selene tilted her head slightly.
"Is that a threat, Your Majesty?" she asked, her tone almost teasing.
Cassian's eyes darkened.
"No," he said. "It is a fact."
For a moment, silence stretched between them, heavy and electric.
Selene could feel it again — that taut, invisible string pulling between them.
Binding them.
Damning them.
Cassian exhaled slowly and turned back toward the window.
"I have enemies in every shadow," he said. "Spies in every corridor. Traitors in every smile."
He paused, his reflection fractured and doubled in the glass.
"Tell me, Selene," he said. "Do you intend to be one of them?"
The words were soft.
Almost gentle.
But Selene felt the blade buried in them.
This was not a question.
It was a challenge.
She stepped closer, allowing her skirts to whisper across the stone floor.
When she spoke, her voice was steady, each word chosen with care.
"I am not foolish enough to mistake kindness for loyalty," she said. "Nor loyalty for survival."
Cassian turned his head slightly, watching her from the corner of his eye.
"And yet you chose to stay," he said. "You chose to return to the wolves."
Selene smiled without humor.
"Better to live among wolves," she said, "than pretend the sheep are not sharpening their teeth."
A flicker of something crossed Cassian's face.
Approval.
Resignation.
Perhaps even regret.
He turned fully to face her again.
"You were seen," he said quietly.
Selene stilled.
"By whom?" she asked.
Cassian's gaze held hers, unblinking.
"By enough."
He stepped closer, close enough that she could feel the heat of his body through the layers of silk and velvet.
"Whatever game you are playing," he said, his voice a low growl, "play it carefully."
His hand lifted, brushing a strand of hair from her cheek with a touch so gentle it belied the warning in his eyes.
"Because if you fall," he murmured, "I will not catch you."
Selene swallowed hard, every instinct screaming to step back, to break the tension, to regain control.
But she stood her ground.
She let him see her strength.
Her defiance.
Her fear.
And, perhaps, the smallest crack in her armor.
"I understand," she said softly.
Cassian studied her for a long moment.
Then he stepped back, his expression shuttering closed.
"Go," he said. "Rest. Tomorrow will be worse."
Selene inclined her head in a graceful, practiced gesture of obedience.
Then she turned and left the room without another word.
The corridors felt colder on the way back to her chambers.
Every shadow seemed deeper.
Every whisper seemed louder.
Every step seemed heavier.
Selene knew the truth now, more clearly than ever.
She was not walking among wolves.
She was walking among monsters.
And the greatest monster of all might be the man she was learning to trust.
Or the one she was beginning to fear.
That night, as she lay in her cold bed staring at the ceiling, the scrap of bloodstained silk hidden beneath her pillow, Selene made a new vow.
Not just to survive.
Not just to win.
But to make sure that when the wolves bared their teeth, they found her ready.
Fangs bared.
Blades drawn.
Heart cold enough to finish what she had started.
Even if it meant losing everything.