The palace was quieter at night.
Too quiet.
Selene followed Cassian through endless marble corridors, the click of their boots against the stone the only sound between them. The torchlight painted shifting shadows on the gilded walls, each flame dancing as if mocking her.
Their wedding feast had ended hours ago.
The courtiers had departed, the musicians silenced, the banners folded away.
Now, only the two of them remained king and queen, husband and wife, strangers bound by blood and lies.
Selene's gloved hand brushed the skirt of her heavy gown, where the hidden blade still nestled against her thigh.
Just in case.
Cassian hadn't spoken a word since they left the banquet hall.
Not a question.
Not a comment.
Not even a glance.
It was as if she had become part of the architecture already, another pretty piece to decorate the empty halls of his kingdom.
Selene wasn't sure if she should be relieved or insulted.
They stopped before a pair of tall, darkwood doors inlaid with gold serpents.
The King's private chambers.
Her new cage.
Cassian reached for the handle but hesitated.
For the first time that night, he looked at her fully.
Not the polite, blank stare he wore in public.
Not the lazy calculation he used on ministers and rivals.
This look was something rawer. Sharper.
His voice, when it came, was low and cutting.
"You may leave, if you prefer," he said, nodding slightly toward the hall. "There's a separate suite prepared for you. No one would question it."
Selene's heart stumbled in her chest.
An out.
A trap.
A test.
She had been trained for this.
The enemy always offers mercy before they strike.
Selene lifted her chin, forcing a sweet, practiced smile onto her lips.
"Wouldn't that defeat the purpose of a marriage?" she said lightly.
Cassian's mouth twitched. Not quite a smile. Not quite approval.
He pushed open the door.
Selene stepped inside.
Cassian's chambers were not what she expected.
No gilded chandeliers.
No velvet draperies.
No extravagant displays of wealth.
Instead, the room was austere, almost spartan.
Dark wood floors.
Heavy bookshelves lining the walls.
A wide desk littered with scrolls and maps.
A simple bed, large enough for two, covered in plain dark linens.
And everywhere, subtle marks of a man who lived in the shadow of war:
A rack of swords polished to a brutal shine.
A scarred practice dummy leaning in the corner.
A map of the realm marked with red ink and tiny silver pins.
Selene's gaze snagged on a black leather-bound journal lying open on the desk.
Words scrawled hastily across the page, too blurred by distance to read.
Cassian closed the door behind them with a soft click.
The sound was final.
A prison gate slamming shut.
Selene forced herself to breathe evenly.
This was just another battlefield.
And she had walked willingly onto it.
Cassian moved past her without a word, unbuckling his sword belt with sharp, efficient motions.
He tossed the weapon onto a low table by the bed, the heavy thunk of metal against wood echoing in the silence.
Selene stood near the door, waiting.
Waiting for instructions.
Waiting for orders.
Waiting for… something.
Cassian glanced at her over his shoulder.
"You don't have to pretend, Selene."
Her stomach twisted.
Pretend what?
Pretend she wasn't terrified?
Pretend she wasn't plotting his death
Pretend she wasn't despite everything, aching under the crushing weight of this room, this night, this unbearable silence?
He turned fully to face her.
The firelight from the hearth carved sharp angles across his face, high cheekbones, the cruel cut of his jaw, the glint of silver at his temple where a scar peeked from beneath his hair.
A beautiful, broken thing.
A king built from ash and iron.
And Selene hated how some part of her recognized it.
Hated how her traitorous heart beat faster the longer he looked at her.
Cassian crossed the room slowly, each step measured, as if approaching a wounded animal that might bolt.
He stopped a few feet away.
Not close enough to touch.
Close enough to kill, if he wished.
"You're not here because you chose to be," he said.
Selene swallowed.
"No," she whispered.
It was the first true thing she had said all night.
Cassian's eyes softened. Just a little.
Just enough to hurt.
"I won't force you into anything tonight," he said. "Or any night."
Selene blinked.
Her training screamed at her to doubt him.
But his voice, gods, his voice, sounded so tired.
So old.
As if he was more prisoner than king.
As if this marriage was a chain around his throat, too.
She should have felt triumphant.
Instead, she felt… hollow.
Cassian turned away from her, moving to the hearth. He picked up a decanter of dark wine, poured two glasses, and set them on the table between them.
He didn't offer her one.
He didn't command her to drink.
He simply sat down in the high-backed chair near the fire and stared into the flames.
Waiting.
Daring her to make her own choice.
Selene stood frozen at the threshold between duty and something dangerously close to empathy.
She could leave.
She could retreat to the separate suite, lock herself behind its heavy doors, and spend the night memorizing maps and guard schedules.
But something rooted her to the spot.
A foolish, reckless thing inside her that whispered:
Know your enemy.
Know him in ways no spy ever has.
Know the man you must one day betray.
Selene crossed the room, the hem of her gown whispering over the stone floor.
She picked up the untouched glass of wine.
And sat down across from Cassian, the fire casting flickering shadows across both of their faces.
For a long moment, neither of them spoke.
The fire crackled.
The wind howled against the windows.
Their breathing filled the space between heartbeats.
Selene raised her glass slightly in a mock salute.
"To new beginnings," she said, her voice steady despite the war inside her.
Cassian's mouth curved, not a smile.
A warning.
He raised his glass in return.
"To inevitable ends," he replied.
Their glasses clinked together, soft as a blade sliding between ribs.
And somewhere in the pit of her stomach, Selene knew.
Whatever had begun between them tonight wasn't just a marriage.
It was a battle.
And only one of them would survive it.