They broke eye contact at the same time. Both turned. Astelion was on her knees.
"My humble majesty," she gasped, head bowed. "The void is breaking." The words did not echo.
They detonated. Castel's eyes ignited — not warm. Not bright. Cold. Radiant. Merciless. Every candle in the room flared violently. Petals froze midair. The bedposts groaned as invisible pressure clenched the chamber like a fist.The walls wanted to kneel. The air thinned. Stone cracked softly under strain. Then Arastella reached for him. Her hand wrapped around his wrist. Warm. Steady.
"Be calm," she said. It was not a command. It was trust. For a heartbeat, the world held its breath. Castel inhaled. Slowly.
The crushing force receded. Candles steadied. Petals fell. He looked down at her. Not as king. As man.
Something raw flickered behind his restraint possession, fear, want.
"It is my wedding night," he said quietly, turning toward Astelion. "Who allowed you in here? This could have waited." Thank the gods I made it, Astelion thought. Those guards nearly- she thought
"Unfortunately, no, sire," she said aloud. "If we wait, they may come through." Silence.
"They may take the Queen back." That did it. Castel went still. Too still. Slowly, deliberately, he turned to Arastella.
"My Queen," he said, voice lowering, reverent and dangerous all at once. "You will remain here tonight. I will stay elsewhere. I will return before you sleep."He pulled her into an embrace. Not gentle. Not crushing. Protective. Possessive. His power hummed beneath his skin like a contained storm. For a single breath, she felt the full weight of it — terrifying and intoxicating.
Then he was gone.
"Guards!" his voice thundered down the corridor. "Summon the council!" The doors slammed shut. Silence. Astelion exhaled shakily and stood. Relief flooded her face when she looked at Arastella.
"Grandma— I mean—"
Arastella's brow lifted slowly.
"Grandma?" Astelion froze.
"I misspoke, my queen." Arastella studied her.
"I've seen you before.
"Yes. At the choosing festival. I was the one who told you to run." A pause.
"Sorry I never listened," Arastella said quietly.
Astelion hesitated.
"If I may... Castel is mad about you. Impatient. Obsessed." She swallowed.
"But his love is real." Arastella's jaw tightened.
"You don't have to return it. But if you play this right... you can free your people without war."
In the original timeline, he died for you. The thought burned behind Astelion's eyes. Arastella opened her mouth—The doorway darkened.
"Taking advice from a lowly maid, my queen?"
Cion's voice slithered into the room.
Astelion moved instantly, dragging the covers over Arastella before turning.
"I see the bitch is barking without its master."
Arastella gasped. Cion smiled thinly. "Excuse me?"
"Oh—was that out loud?" Astelion tilted her head. "If you thought it was about you, perhaps that says more than I ever could."
"Stop it," Arastella hissed.
"Zote istis liu," Astelion murmured.
(Never trust him.)
"You speak the native tongue?" Arastella whispered.
"Vaa."
Cion sneered. "Who do you think you are?"
"She does not need to answer you," Arastella said, steel entering her voice. Cion stepped forward. He raised his hand.
He should not have done that. The temperature dropped. Not slowly. Instantly.
The candles bent inward as if fleeing something. The door shut without being touched. Stone screamed against stone. Castel stood behind Cion. And the world stopped. Cion froze mid-motion. Too close to her.
Castel saw red. Not metaphorical. Crimson bled into his vision as his power erupted. Cion was ripped off the floor. His body slammed into the ceiling with a sickening crack. Suspended. Limbs splayed.
Throat crushed by nothing and everything at once.
Astelion stepped back, gripping Arastella's hand.
Arastella did not move. Her eyes widened. That was enough. Castel stepped forward. Pressure multiplied.
Cion screamed as his body contorted, joints bending wrong. Blood streamed from his nose.
"You raised your hand," Castel said quietly.
"I—only toward the maid—"
"Did I give you permission to speak?" The calm was worse than fury.
"You raised your hand," he repeated, tightening the invisible grip, "in front of her." Walls fractured.
Death-pressure rolled through the room. Men would have collapsed. Warriors would have begged.
It passed over Arastella. It always did. Cion choked. "My—my king—" Castel did not look at him.
"Do you know," he murmured, voice trembling now with something dangerously close to devotion, "how many nights I imagined this moment?" His gaze flicked to Cion.
"How many futures end with you dead?" A rib snapped. Arastella stepped forward.
"Castel." Just his name. His power faltered. Just enough. Cion dropped slightly, coughing violently.
Castel turned to her, eyes blazing.
"He would have hurt you."
"Trust me," she said calmly, "he cannot." Her steadiness cut deeper than a blade.
"There is no point in killing him." Castel's hands shook at his sides.
"I would end the world for you," he whispered. And he meant it.
"I would burn kingdoms and call it mercy." The tragedy wasn't that he said it.
It was that he believed it. Slowly. Agonizingly. He released Cion. Cion collapsed in a broken heap, sobbing, shaking, barely conscious. Castel stepped over him.
"You live," he said hollowly, "because she allows it." He knelt beside Cion.
"If you ever raise your hand again..." A pause.
"I won't kill you." Silence.
"I will keep you alive long enough to regret every breath." He stood. Turned back to Arastella.
The power in the room bent inward again, restrained by will alone. He reached toward her. Stopped himself.
Always stopping himself.
"I am sorry," he said softly. "You should never see me like this."But she had. And that changed everything.
Astelion bowed quickly. "If you need me, send for me."
She slipped out. Castel's gaze snapped to Cion.
"Stand." Cion struggled to his feet.
"Come near the Queen again without my command," Castel said quietly, "and I will play ball with your head." He turned and left. Cion staggered after him.The doors closed. Silence. Arastella stood alone. Heart pounding. Trying to understand what she had just witnessed. Power. Devotion. Madness. Love that would burn the world. She screamed. Not a human sound. A dragon's roar tore from her chest — grief, fury, terror — shaking the palace walls and splitting the night open.
And somewhere beyond the palace—