The very air in the tent didn’t just crackle; it fractured. Cassius’s eyes narrowed, his gaze locking onto Vorian with a chilling intensity. The warmth he reserved for me had evaporated, leaving behind the chilling baritone of a king. “I have never broken an oath in my life, Vorian. To suggest otherwise is an assault on my honor. Tread carefully.”

He’s a man of his word, a frantic denial screamed through my mind. He would never betray his people. He would never betray me.

But Vorian did not flinch. Cassius’s dangerous calm only seemed to stoke the flames of his righteous anger. “Do not delude yourself!” he snarled, his hands clenching into fists. “You have already forsaken a sacred vow—one made to your own mother on her deathbed. You stand here, your gaze fixed on this… this half-blood, while an oath of betrothal binds you. You cannot serve two masters, Cassius! You cannot pledge yourself to our future and to her.”

The word was a physical blow, stealing the air from my lungs. Betrothed.

It echoed in the sudden, ringing silence of my mind. I stumbled back, the ground seeming to lurch beneath me. Someone else had a claim to him. It wasn’t me. It would never be me.

My heart didn’t ache. It shattered, a silent, screaming fracture that ripped me in two. Nausea churned, hot and acidic, in my gut. Every whispered confession, every stolen glance, every secret touch replayed in my mind—not as cherished memories, but as a dizzying, venomous lie. I had drunk it down with a fool’s thirst.

I wrapped my arms around my torso, a desperate, futile attempt to hold myself together. An oath to his dying mother… I could never ask him to break such a vow. I could never compete with a ghost.

My gaze found his, and I fought the caustic burn of tears. In that single, shattering moment, the fragile world we had built together crumbled to dust.

Foolish, foolish girl.

I took another shaky step back, my leg colliding with a chair. The sharp pain was a distant thing. My hand shot out, gripping its carved back, my knuckles turning to stone as I tried to anchor myself in the spinning room. My lungs burned, starving for air I could not find.

Through the haze of my agony, I watched Cassius. He didn’t retreat. He advanced, stalking toward Vorian until he loomed over him like a storm cloud. His voice dropped, a low rumble that was more threat than sound.

“You speak of my betrothed with such certainty, as if you know her name, her face. Tell me, Vorian. Do you? Do you have any idea who she really is?”

Vorian recoiled, a flicker of doubt finally cracking his furious certainty. “No…” he stammered, the word a quiet surrender. “I do not.”

Then Cassius turned, and the force of his gaze was a physical thing. He tore it from the broken man and found me, piercing through the blur of my tears. He spoke, but the words were not for Vorian. They were for me.

“I am betrothed to Princess Thalia Cevraen, daughter of Syanna Lorendel.”

The name slammed into me, a sound both foreign and terrifyingly familiar. My own.

My heart didn’t just stutter; it seized, a violent, painful lurch in my chest. The world, which had been spinning violently, juddered to a halt. The confession replayed in my head, twisting into a new, impossible shape. He is betrothed to… me?

Cassius’s gaze snapped back to Vorian. “You want to know about the vow?” he pressed, his voice ringing with an authority that left no room for argument.

Vorian could only shake his head, whispering, “What do you mean?”

“Years ago, my mother would have died. She was saved by one woman: Syanna Lorendel. A life for a life—a debt that gold could never repay. Our mothers forged a pact that day, an unbreakable vow sworn between them. A promise that Syanna’s daughter would one day unite our bloodlines and rule beside me.”

His words were the key, unlocking a memory buried deep within me: my mother’s journal. A secret vow, she had written. A promise that would reveal itself only when the time was right. The chaos in my mind stilled. The frantic shaking in my limbs ceased. A profound, crystalline calm washed over me. This is the vow.

Vorian’s gaze fell to the floor, his face a mask of profound shame. “I… I am sorry,” he stammered, his words thick. “My judgment was clouded. It is a mistake I swear I will not make again.” He turned to me, his eyes filled with a deep, humbling regret. “Princess Thalia. Forgive me.”

“I do,” I replied, the words feeling fragile and new on my tongue.

Cassius rested a hand on Vorian’s shoulder, a gesture of both forgiveness and command. “You are forgiven,” he said, his tone heavy. “But never doubt my honor again.” He paused, his voice softening for his friend alone. “You are my right hand, Vorian. My brother.”

But as he spoke, I saw it—a flicker of hurt in his eyes that forgiveness couldn’t entirely erase. The wound was closed, but the scar remained.

The mask of a king snapped back into place. Cassius hid the pain so quickly it was almost seamless, forcing a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Well,” he announced, his voice brittle with forced cheerfulness. “We have had an… eventful night. I believe it’s time we rejoined the others.”

Vorian simply bowed his head. “Yes, your majesty,” he murmured. He walked to the tent flap but paused at the threshold, looking back. “I am sorry.” With a final, deferential nod, he was gone.

The silence he left behind was heavy, broken only by the soft flutter of the lamp flame. It cast dancing shadows across Cassius’s face. As his eyes met mine, the last of his composure crumbled. The formidable commander vanished, replaced by the man I loved. His shoulders, so straight and proud moments before, slumped with the weight of it all. His gaze was filled with a raw, desperate worry.

“Thalia,” he began, the name a fractured whisper. “That isn’t how I wanted you to find out. I swear it. I wanted to tell you, but I didn’t know how.” He raked a hand through his hair, his voice thick with frustration. “I didn’t know where to begin.”

My own voice felt distant. “Cassius… I’m not angry.” I took a breath, trying to steady the world. “I’m… overwhelmed. A moment ago my heart was breaking, and now…” I shook my head, a small, disbelieving laugh escaping me. “I think I just need a moment to catch up.”

He closed the space between us in two long strides, his gaze earnest and soft. “Thalia,” he murmured, his voice thick with all the emotion he’d been forced to restrain. “I love you.”

“I know,” I whispered back.

For a heartbeat, the dark what-ifs clawed at me—shadows of a world where he belonged to another, where his love was a sweet, impossible dream. I banished them. No. I am his choice. I am his vow.

A serious look returned to his face. “I wasn’t completely honest with Vorian,” he admitted, his voice low.

“What do you mean?”

He was so close now I could feel the warmth of his body, smell the faint scent of leather and night air. His eyes locked on mine, intense and unwavering. “My honor… my vow to my people… it is the bedrock of who I am.” His voice dropped, becoming raw and absolute. “But for you, Thalia… if you were anyone else… I would have shattered that vow. I would have torn down my own honor and set the world aflame to keep you. There is no oath, no promise, no throne that I would choose over you.”