The tension in the air didn't fade after we left the forest. If anything, it felt like it had sunk into my skin, like a lingering whisper. Mikos didn't speak again. He didn't need to. His words kept repeating in my head, tangled with that gaze that had pierced through me without touching me. "The island brought you. You. Not him."
Back at the house, Declan didn't say a word on the way. Only when he closed the door behind him did he finally let out the breath he'd been holding since the clearing. He looked at me. With anger. With sorrow. With something else.
—Are you all right?
I nodded, though I wasn't entirely sure.
—Why didn't you tell me before? —I asked—. That Mikos was your brother.
—Because if I had, you'd stop seeing him with your own eyes. And a part of me… needed you to know for yourself that he's no longer what he once was.
I crossed my arms. Something didn't add up.
—Then why don't you stop him? Why let him walk freely on your land, knowing who he is and what he represents?
Declan turned, walking toward the window. Morning light was beginning to filter in, hazy and muted.
—Because if I do, the island will make me pay for it. This land is alive, Sereniah. And it hasn't chosen whom to protect yet. I can't risk starting a war before I understand which side the balance is on.
—The balance?
—The island watches. And I… wait.
A long silence followed. I waited for more. A decision. A gesture. Something to break all that restraint. It never came.
—And you? Whose side are you on? —I asked, without moving.
He turned toward me slowly. And for the first time in days, he walked straight over to where I was. He stopped just a step away. Close enough that I could see the golden flecks in his eyes.
—Yours —he said.
And then, without asking permission, he took my face in both hands. It wasn't a kiss. Not yet. It was something rawer: the brush of foreheads, a breath shared. As if we were choosing each other all over again, in the middle of the chaos.
—I don't know if I can win this battle —he murmured—. But if the island takes away the only thing that matters to me… then it's already lost.
—It hasn't taken anything from you —I said—. I'm still here. —I joked.
He barely smiled. And the fire lit up in his eyes again. Not fury. Banked desire. Something we still didn't know how to name.
That day, for the first time, I didn't feel like a prisoner on the island. I felt chosen.
But I still didn't understand why.
How was it possible that someone like me—a woman sent to this island by a contract signed in secret—had become the center of a story bigger than any of us? None of this had been random. And the most unsettling thing was the suspicion growing in my chest: Declan had known from the beginning.
—Did you choose me? —I asked quietly, still with my forehead resting against his—. Did you know who I was?
He didn't answer right away. His hands slid slowly down to my cheeks, as if he were afraid of losing contact.
—Not entirely. I knew I had to find you. I knew that… something in you was calling to me long before your father signed anything. I didn't seek him out. I sought him through you.
I pulled back just enough to meet his eyes.
—How?
—By your scent —he said, without shame—. There's something in you that resonated with me from the first time I imagined you, long before I ever saw you. It wasn't magic. It was… instinct, destiny.
His confession left me speechless. How long had he known? For how long had he been watching me without my knowing?
—So it was all a trap —I whispered, hurt.
—No. It was a call. I didn't know if you'd answer. But the island… she answered first.
My chest tightened. I couldn't hold that mix of anger and desire much longer. And he, as if sensing it, leaned in again.
His breath brushed my lips but didn't touch them. It was a subtle provocation, a sweet threat. His hands drifted slowly from my cheeks down to my waist, as if memorizing the outline of what he still didn't dare fully claim. I trembled. Not from fear. From anticipation.
His forehead rested against mine again, and this time it was his breathing that melded with mine, each exhale of his entering my lungs like fire.
His lips slid along my cheek, barely grazing my skin. A caress with no destination. His nose pressed into my neck as if he needed to confirm that I was still me. As if my scent alone were enough to keep him sane.
—Don't stop me —he whispered against my collarbone.
I didn't answer.
His fingers gathered the fabric at the small of my back, holding on gently. They didn't go lower. He didn't cross the line. And yet every inch of me burned as if he had.
His eyes found mine, not to ask permission. Just to stay. To promise.
—Not today —I said at last, my voice low—.
But soon. —I added—. When you can't breathe without me. When what you feel is stronger than your fear. Then…
He eased away from me, slowly, as if it cost him something to do it. My legs were still shaking. My breathing hadn't returned to normal.
And he… he just smiled. Not mockingly. With pain. With restrained desire. With the kind of waiting that promised to burn everything down.
When I finally left the room, the sun was already high, but it didn't warm anything. Everything felt suspended, as if the world were waiting for something else before it continued. Melyra found me in the hallway.
—The Lady of the Greenhouse left something for you —she said, as if it were the most normal thing in the world.
—The lady of what?
—The greenhouse. It's not part of the main house. She lives at the forest's edge. She says the flowers in the garden started beating last night. They bloomed all at once, with no moon.
I stopped.
—Beating?
Melyra nodded faintly, but her eyes gleamed with that warning spark I knew all too well by now.
—The island is responding, Sereniah. To you. To him. To both of you. And that is never quiet.
I didn't say anything. But I felt something inside me change rhythm, as if a hidden clock had started ticking in my chest. The day wasn't over. And neither was what had begun between us.
I knew I had to go to the garden. Not out of curiosity, but because something in my body demanded it. As if that vibration in the flowers had an echo inside me. As if the island were whispering that this was where everything needed to continue. Not with words. With body. With soul.
I stopped in the stone gallery that faced south and looked out at the path leading to the garden. A gust of air brought with it a sweet, damp, unmistakable smell: flowers that had opened too fast, freshly turned earth, and something else… like ancient electricity.
I pressed a hand to my chest. My heartbeat no longer felt the same.
—This time I'm not going to run —I told myself softly, though I wasn't sure if I meant the garden… or him.