CHAPTER SIX

The night passed slowly. I lay in the massive bed, staring at the ceiling, my thoughts tangled and restless. Kaelen's words played on a loop in my mind — his warnings, his coldness. The heat in his touch when he gripped my wrist.

I didn't understand him. And that was dangerous.

When morning finally came, I was no closer to making sense of anything. I dressed in the fine clothes left for me — black trousers, a soft, high-collared shirt — and stepped into the hallway. A servant waited outside, silent and watchful, and wordlessly began leading me through the palace.

We stopped at the library's heavy doors. "His Highness is waiting," the servant said. Then he bowed and left me there.

My pulse quickened. I wasn't ready to face Kaelen again. But running wasn't an option.

I pushed the doors open and stepped inside.

Kaelen stood by the windows, back to me, sunlight casting his figure in gold and shadow. He didn't turn when I entered.

"You ignored my warning," he said quietly.

I shut the door behind me. "I didn't invite Darius into my room. He was already there."

"You should have thrown him out."

"Maybe I would have if you'd bothered to explain why he's so dangerous," I shot back.

Kaelen finally turned, and the look in his eyes sent a shiver through me. "Darius doesn't need reasons. He enjoys breaking things. And right now, he's decided you'd be fun to break."

My throat went dry. "Why?"

"Because you're mine."

The air grew heavy between us. Those words should have made me angry. I should have denied them. But instead, my skin prickled, and I hated myself for the way my heart sped up.

"I'm not a possession," I said quietly.

"No," Kaelen agreed. "You're a weapon. And everyone here is wondering when I'll finally use you."

That stopped me cold. "What?"

But he didn't answer. Instead, he walked toward the shelves, trailing his fingers over the spines of old, leather-bound books. "You want answers?" he asked. "Then earn them. Tell me — what do you know of this realm?"

I swallowed hard. "Only what I've seen so far. Power games. Politics. Secrets."

Kaelen smiled — slow and cold. "You've seen nothing."

He plucked a book from the shelf and set it on the table. "Our world is built on blood and fire. And if you want to survive here, you need to understand exactly what you're caught in."

I stepped closer, my curiosity outweighing my fear. The book's cover was old and worn, the edges frayed. I opened it — and stopped breathing.

It wasn't a history book. It was a ledger. A record of alliances and betrayals. Deals sealed with magic and blood. And my name was there. Written in elegant, ancient script.

"What is this?" I whispered.

"Proof," Kaelen said. "That your fate was decided long before you were born."

The room spun. I gripped the edge of the table, trying to steady myself. "You knew," I said. "You knew I'd end up here."

"I suspected." Kaelen's voice softened. "But I didn't choose this, Adrien. And neither did you."

"Then who did?" I demanded.

For a long moment, Kaelen didn't answer. Then he looked at me, and there was something almost human in his eyes. "My father."

The name hung heavy in the air.

"You think I'm dangerous," Kaelen said. "But you haven't met him yet."

My stomach twisted. "And Darius?"

"He's a viper in the nest. But my father — he's the storm."

The weight of those words settled over me. I'd been dragged into something far bigger than I'd realized. And I was woefully unprepared.

But fear wouldn't save me.

"Then teach me," I said. "If you want me to survive here, show me how."

Kaelen studied me. "You're brave," he said finally. "But bravery only gets you so far."

He walked toward me — slow, measured steps — until there was barely any space between us. "If I teach you," he said softly, "you'll have to become like us. Cold. Calculating. Willing to do what it takes."

He reached up, brushing a lock of hair from my forehead. The touch was light — almost gentle — but it sent my pulse racing.

"Are you ready for that?"

I swallowed hard. "I don't think I have a choice."

Kaelen's lips curved — not quite a smile. "No," he murmured. "You don't."

And then he kissed me.

It wasn't soft. It wasn't sweet. It was a claim — the same way his words had been. His hand slid to the back of my neck, holding me in place, and I didn't push him away.

When he finally pulled back, his eyes were molten gold. "Lesson one," he said. "Never show your weakness."

Then he turned and walked away, leaving me breathless and burning.