The next evening arrived wrapped in silk and shadow.
The Grand Ballroom of Veredon glittered brighter than before, as if the crown itself could chase away the rising scent of blood with gold and light.
Nobles twirled in endless circles beneath towering chandeliers.
Musicians played delicate notes that sounded more like mourning than celebration.
Laughter echoed against the marble walls, brittle and false.
Selene moved through it all like a wraith in white and crimson, her smile perfect, her steps precise, her hidden blades pressed against her skin beneath the heavy folds of her gown.
Beside her, Cassian was every inch the king the court demanded.
Cold.
Beautiful.
Untouchable.
And entirely alone.
Even now, even after all that had passed between them, Selene knew the truth.
No one in this room trusted anyone.
Not truly.
Not yet.
Perhaps not ever.
The first sign of trouble was a ripple in the music.
A single wrong note, sharp and jarring, like a crack across glass.
Selene's spine stiffened, her eyes sweeping the room without moving her head.
The musicians corrected themselves instantly, but the damage was done.
The rhythm had broken.
The dance had faltered.
The wolves had scented something in the air.
Cassian's hand, resting lightly against her lower back, tensed.
He felt it too.
The pressure in the room shifted, subtle and brutal.
Selene caught a flicker of movement near the western gallery—too fast, too wrong.
Someone weaving against the current of the dancers, moving not in time with the music, but against it.
A predator cutting through prey.
The assassin struck as the final note of the song rang out.
A blade flashed in the dim candlelight, a gleam of steel aimed straight for Cassian's unprotected side.
Selene did not think.
She moved.
Her hand caught Cassian's arm, yanking him backward with a strength born of pure instinct.
The dagger missed by inches, slicing through the air where his heart would have been.
Cassian reacted instantly.
Before the assassin could recover, Cassian seized a heavy goblet from a passing servant's tray and hurled it with deadly precision.
The silver cup struck the attacker squarely in the temple.
The man staggered, dropping his blade with a clatter.
For one frozen moment, the ballroom held its breath.
Then the guards closed in.
Steel hissed from scabbards.
Women screamed.
Men shouted.
Chairs overturned.
Chaos erupted.
Selene stepped in front of Cassian, shielding him instinctively as the guards tackled the assassin to the ground.
Blood spilled across the marble floor, a vivid red smear against the pristine white stone.
Cassian's hand closed around her wrist, firm and steady.
He pulled her back against him, shielding her with his body as his guards swarmed the attacker.
Selene barely registered the shouting, the thundering boots, the clashing steel.
All she could feel was the hammering of Cassian's heart against her spine.
All she could hear was the rough rasp of his breathing near her ear.
All she could taste was the sharp, metallic scent of blood filling the air.
The attacker was dragged away, bleeding and snarling, leaving a trail of crimson behind.
The court gaped in frozen horror.
Some clutched at their pearls and finery.
Some whispered furiously behind trembling hands.
Some slipped quietly from the hall, like rats abandoning a sinking ship.
Cassian straightened slowly, releasing her wrist.
He looked out over his court with eyes like sharpened steel.
"See," he said, his voice carrying effortlessly across the room. "See what loyalty buys you in Veredon."
The nobles flinched as one.
Selene kept her face impassive, her hands steady at her sides.
But inside, her mind raced.
This was not a lone madman.
This was planned.
Deliberate.
Calculated.
And whoever had ordered it had known the perfect moment to strike.
During the dance, when defenses were down, when appearances mattered more than survival.
It was not just a threat against Cassian.
It was a warning to her.
Later, after the ballroom was cleared and the blood scrubbed from the marble, Selene stood alone near one of the shattered pillars.
Cassian approached, his footsteps echoing in the vast, empty space.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
The air between them was raw and electric, crackling with things neither dared to say.
"You saved my life," Cassian said finally, his voice rougher than usual.
Selene turned slightly, studying him through lowered lashes.
"Did I?" she said softly.
Cassian's mouth twisted into something that was not quite a smile.
"Not for long," he said. "If you had wanted me dead, you could have let him succeed."
Selene met his gaze fully now.
"I am not finished with you yet," she said.
It was not a joke.
It was not a threat.
It was a simple, brutal truth.
Cassian stepped closer, close enough that she could see the faint smear of blood on the cuff of his sleeve.
"Nor I with you," he said.
For a long, trembling moment, they stood in silence.
Two blades.
Two broken crowns.
Two fates bound together by blood and betrayal.
Selene felt it again—that pull, that unbearable gravity that yanked her closer to him even as every part of her screamed to run.
She clenched her hands at her sides, forcing herself to stay still.
Forcing herself to remember.
This was not safety.
This was not love.
This was survival.
And survival meant staying one move ahead.
Always.
Cassian studied her for another heartbeat, then inclined his head slightly.
"Rest, my queen," he said. "Tomorrow, the real wolves will come to feast."
Selene watched him walk away, his figure swallowed by the darkened corridors beyond.
She pressed her hand against her chest, feeling the fierce, panicked hammer of her heart.
Tomorrow would be worse.
She would be ready.
She had to be.