The alley’s stench—a thick perfume of rot and rain-soaked stone—clung to the back of my throat. Kaelen’s shadow fell over me not like a blanket, but like the blade of a guillotine. He stood so close I could feel the heat radiating from his body, a furnace of contained rage.

“What are you doing here?” he snarled. The sound was a low rumble, seeming to vibrate up from the cobblestones themselves.

I kept my eyes fixed on a glistening smear of filth near my boot, my shoulders drawn in. A lamb for the slaughter. It was a role I knew well. “I… I wished to see Tirrila.”

“Look at me.” The command was not a request. Reluctantly, I lifted my head, my gaze catching on the hard line of his jaw. “Why?”

A shiver traced its way down my spine, a serpent of cold against my skin. “It was stuffy in the palace,” I whispered, the lie a sour taste on my tongue.

A cruel, sharp bark of laughter escaped him. “You expect me to believe this cesspool is preferable to your gilded cage? Do not insult my intelligence.” His fingers, strong and unyielding, coiled around my sleeve. The grip tightened on my wrist like a manacle. “You’re coming with me.”

Before I could protest, the world tore open. A shimmering rift in reality yawned before us, a vortex of gold corrupted by veins of black, like ink bleeding into honey. My stomach churned with a sickening lurch of memory—I knew this vertigo, this feeling of being unstitched from the world, but he could never know that. He gave me no time to brace myself, hauling me forward and plunging us into the maelstrom.

The transition was a violent symphony of pressure and screaming color. It felt less like travel and more like being ripped apart and put back together wrong. Then, with a nauseating snap, reality reasserted itself. We were in my bedroom.

Playing my part, I let my legs give out the moment my feet hit the plush rug. I collapsed in a heap, forcing ragged, desperate gasps for air. Spreading my hands before me, I focused on the memory of true fear and let the shudders wrack my body.

“What… was… that?” I choked out, praying the performance was convincing.

His polished black boots stepped into my line of sight. He loomed over me, a monolith of disdain. “A simple teleportation portal,” his voice dripped with condescension. “You truly are a fragile thing, Thalia.”

I remained on the floor, my gaze fixed on my own distorted reflection in the polished marble. A trembling stranger stared back.

“Where is the cursed elf I saw clinging to your side?”

“He is—”

“Stand,” he commanded, his voice sharp enough to cut glass. “And look at me when you speak.”

Every motion was a carefully constructed lie. I pushed myself up with feigned weakness, my legs trembling as I rose. I stumbled against my writing desk, my knuckles turning white as I gripped its gilded edge for support. I forced my head up, but let my eyes focus on the tapestry behind him, a depiction of a hunt I suddenly found deeply ironic.

“He is resting,” I said, my voice a strained whisper. “Please, I ask that you do not disturb him. The curse… it drains him.”

A twisted smirk played on his lips. “I’m sure it does.” He took a predatory step forward, his presence shrinking the vast room. “His time is coming to an end. They all expire eventually.” His gaze hardened as it swept over me. “I have no need to disturb a dying man.”

“Thank you,” I breathed, inclining my head in a deep, subservient bow. Feed his arrogance, a cold, calm voice echoed in my mind. 

As I straightened, my eyes accidentally met his. For a fraction of a second, something in his expression shifted—a flicker of calculation that sent a fresh chill through me.

“You seem different, princess,” he purred, closing the remaining distance between us. His height forced me to crane my neck, my throat exposed. I could smell the leather of his clothes and the faint, metallic scent of ozone that clung to him from the portal.

“What… what do you mean?” I stammered.

“I’m not sure,” he mused, his voice a low, dissecting hum that made my skin crawl. “There’s a new light in your eyes. Something has shifted.” He leaned closer, his voice dropping. “But I will find out what it is.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” I whispered, the lie feeling thin.

A slow, knowing smirk spread across his face. “I hope, for your sake, that you aren’t cultivating rebellious ideas in that pretty little head. Such things have a way of ending… poorly.”

“No!” I shook my head frantically, gesturing toward a pile of books on my desk. I held out my hand, concentrating, willing a tremor into my fingers. “I just… I enjoy my reading.” I let my gaze fall to the floor, demurely clasping my hands before me.

“So I hear. You’re either in the library or locked away in here,” he purred, his eyes raking over me once more. A cruel glint entered his expression. “Still, I feel your father would be very interested to hear about your little excursion.”

Raw panic, cold and sharp, clawed its way up my throat. Forgetting myself, I surged forward, my fingers closing around his forearm. The muscle beneath was hard as iron. “Please,” I begged, my voice cracking. “Don’t.”

His reaction was instantaneous and violent. “Don’t!” he roared, the sound exploding in the chamber. He slapped my hand away. The crack echoed, and a sharp, stinging heat flared across my skin. “Do not touch me.” His face was a mask of pure revulsion.

“I—I’m sorry,” I stammered, stumbling back as if he’d struck my face.

“You filthy humans,” he spat, scrubbing at his sleeve as if my touch had been venomous. “The oils on your skin, the scent of your mortality… it’s nauseating. My contact with your kind will be kept to a minimum.”

His gaze bored into me, and a cruel, lazy grin stretched his lips. “However… I do enjoy a spectacle. Beg for me, Thalia. Beg properly. It seems to be the one thing your kind has a talent for.”

A cold fury solidified in my stomach, an anchor in the storm of feigned terror. I would play his game. I would swallow this humiliation. My secrets were worth more than my pride.

The cold of the marble floor seeped through my dress as I gracefully sank to my knees, bowing until my forehead was pressed to the cool, unyielding stone. “I beg you, Kaelen,” I said, pitching my voice to tremble with desperation. “Do not tell my father of my transgression. I was a fool. I beg for your silence.”

The silence stretched, each second a new weight on my back. I held my breath.

“Fine,” he finally hissed from above. “Since you grovel so beautifully, your secret is safe. For now.”

“Thank you,” I breathed into the floor. Savor it and leave, I pleaded silently.

“You may rise. You look even more pathetic down there than you do standing.”

I pushed myself up slowly, each movement measured, keeping my eyes downcast.

“Don’t think this changes anything,” he warned, his voice a final, sharp barb. “I will be watching you. Something tells me you require close observation. Behave.”

“Yes,” I promised meekly. “I will.”

“Good,” he clipped, his lip curling in a final sneer. “Enjoy your books. While you can.”

He turned on his heel. A palpable cold followed in his wake as he strode from the room, the heavy door slamming shut with an echoing boom of finality.

For a long moment, I didn’t move, listening to the ringing silence. Then, a shuddering breath I hadn’t realized I was holding escaped me. The mask shattered. The tension drained from my shoulders, leaving an ache in its place. He gets under my skin, I admitted, but his ego is a weapon I can aim.

What were the chances of running into him? I remembered Amelia’s warning. Of course, she knew he had returned. She always knows.

Exhausted, I collapsed into the armchair. Outside, the sun bled across the horizon, and long, creeping shadows began to swallow the corners of my room. The humiliation had been a bitter pill, but the price was worth the prize.

A spark of triumph cut through the fatigue, fierce and bright. I found it. I know where the fracture in the barrier is. Now, I only needed patience. Kaelen had just guaranteed I would stay put for now.