For a second, Kael just stared at me.
"Wants you dead?" he repeated slowly, like he wasn't sure he'd heard correctly.
The corridor felt narrower all of a sudden. Too quiet. Too intimate. Light from the tall windows spilled across the floor between us, cutting his shadow in half.
I stepped into that line of light anyway.
"If I said it was a joke," I murmured, "would you believe me?"
His eyes sharpened. "No."
Good.
At least he was still intelligent.
"Then don't ask if you don't want the answer," I said, turning as if to walk past him.
His hand shot out and caught my wrist.
Just like earlier, the moment his skin touched mine, the magic inside me jolted awake.
Heat flared beneath my skin, silver light sparking at the edges of my vision. The air thickened, pressing in around us. Somewhere, distant, I heard the faint groan of stone shifting.
Kael sucked in a breath. "Aura—"
"Let go," I said quietly.
He did. Quickly. As if he'd felt the same invisible shock.
For a heartbeat we just stood there, facing each other, both pretending nothing had happened.
He was the first to speak.
"Who," he asked softly, "is threatening you?"
You.
Your almost-bride.
Her unseen allies.
I smiled instead, a small, cold curve.
"Funny," I said. "You sound less surprised than you should."
His jaw tightened. "Aura, this is not the time for games."
"No," I agreed. "But it is the time for honesty."
He laughed once—short and humorless. "From you?"
The words stung more than I wanted to admit.
In my first life, I told him everything. My dreams, my fears, the way the moon spoke to me when I was too exhausted to stand. I had handed over the most fragile parts of myself and watched him drop them when they got too heavy.
Now he dared to doubt my honesty?
I stepped closer, lifting my gaze to meet his fully.
"You think I'm lying?" I asked softly.
"I think," he said carefully, "that whatever you're about to tell me will force me to choose sides. And I'm not sure you understand the cost of that."
"I understand death," I whispered. "That seems expensive enough."
A muscle ticked in his cheek. "Aura…"
"I'm not stupid," I cut in. "You said it yourself. The patrol sees strange lights. The council whispers about omens. I have dreams. I hear voices. And the western forest, somehow, is never as empty as it should be." I tilted my head. "And you? You stand in the middle of all of this and act like it's normal."
His eyes darkened. "Nothing about this is normal."
"Then why are you pretending it is?"
Silence stretched between us.
Behind Kael, further down the corridor, I caught the tiniest flicker of movement—
a ripple where no wind blew,
a shadow thickening near the ceiling.
He was here.
Watching.
The shadow-man.
I didn't let my gaze flick toward him. Didn't let my shoulders stiffen.
Kael exhaled slowly. "What happened in the forest this morning?"
He hadn't asked if.
He already knew.
"I walked among trees and came back," I said. "Is that so unusual?"
"Yes," he snapped before catching himself. His tone dropped again, low and controlled. "You came back… different."
"I woke up different," I corrected.
He studied me. Really studied me, like he was trying to peel back my skin and look underneath.
"I remember when you were ten," he said quietly. "You woke up after a nightmare and said the moon was bleeding. You cried for an hour. The priest told you it was just childish imagination."
"It wasn't," I said. "It never was."
His fingers curled at his sides. "So this dream—last night. You said the same thing."
"I did."
"And now some faceless enemy wants you dead."
"Not faceless," I murmured.
His eyes narrowed. "Then tell me. Who?"
You'll watch it happen.
You'll stand there again.
My throat tightened around the words I couldn't say.
Instead, I stepped closer, close enough to see the faint golden flecks in his brown eyes that I had once loved.
"If I tell you," I said quietly, "will you believe me?"
His answer came too slowly.
"I… don't know."
There it was.
Honest.
Ugly.
Heavy.
In any other life, that would have shattered me.
In this one, it only confirmed what I already knew.
I pulled back just a little. "That's the problem, isn't it?"
He flinched.
"Aura—"
"You don't trust me," I said. "Not really. You trust your duty. The council. The priests. The rules someone else wrote. Me? I'm just the girl who says strange things and makes your life harder."
"That isn't fair," he said sharply.
"Neither is being murdered," I replied. "But we're both living with unfair things now, aren't we?"
His face went pale. "Murdered?"
Ah.
A slip.
His hand moved, as if to reach for me again, then stopped midway.
"What do you remember?" he asked quietly.
I held his gaze. Let him see just enough. Not everything.
"I remember," I whispered, "that people I love are capable of killing me."
The world hushed.
Kael looked like I had slapped him. "Aura…"
I stepped back.
"Aren't you going to say it?" I asked. "That I'm being dramatic? That it's all in my head? That I'm tired and need rest?"
"I'm not going to say that."
"Why not?"
"Because," he said, voice low and hoarse now, "for the first time… I'm not sure you're wrong."
The words landed between us like a dropped blade.
Behind him, down the corridor, the shadows shifted again—
a subtle swirl,
like something responding to his honesty.
Interesting.
"Tell me something, then," I said softly. "If someone in this palace did want me dead… would you notice? Or would you assume it was fate?"
His expression crumpled for a heartbeat—
just a flicker,
just enough.
"I would notice," he whispered. "I would feel it."
You did.
You just chose not to stop it.
I swallowed the words before they burned me from the inside out.
"Be careful what you claim, Kael," I said instead. "The moon listens. The walls listen. And I… am listening too."
He stepped forward, voice rough. "Aura, whatever is happening to you—"
"Is not madness," I finished for him. "It's clarity."
His hand hovered in the air between us, the distance small, but edged in glass.
"Let me help you," he said.
He almost sounded sincere.
Almost.
I smiled, slow and sharp. "Then start by not standing in my way."
Something in his gaze hardened.
He dropped his hand.
"You've changed," he murmured.
"Good," I said. "So has the world."
I walked past him without waiting for a reply.
I could feel his eyes follow me all the way to the corner.
Could almost hear the thoughts twisting inside his skull.
He didn't know if he was my protector or my jailer anymore.
Perfect.
I turned the corner and finally let out the breath I'd been holding.
The corridor ahead was empty—
or looked that way.
"You enjoy provoking him," a familiar voice murmured from the shadows of an unlit alcove.
I didn't startle this time.
The shadow-man peeled himself from the darkness as if he were made of it. The dim light caught the faint outline of his jaw, the curve of his lips, the violet glow of his eyes.
"You enjoy watching me," I countered.
He tilted his head, almost amused. "You are… entertaining."
"Is that what I am to you? Entertainment?"
"For now," he said. "Later, you will be something else."
"What?"
His gaze burned into mine. "Necessary."
The word slid down my spine like ice.
"Why didn't you want him to know?" he asked. "About what you heard."
"Because if Kael is forced to choose too early," I said quietly, "he'll choose wrong."
"Interesting." The shadow-man folded his arms. "You speak as if you've watched him make that choice before."
I held his gaze and said nothing.
His eyes narrowed. "You remember more than you admit, moon-born."
"I remember enough."
"Do you remember your mother?"
The question punched the air out of my lungs.
I opened my mouth—then stopped.
Flashes came.
A hand in my hair.
Laughter.
The smell of smoke and something sweet.
A lullaby half in a language I didn't know and half in the one I did.
And then—
the sight of her body on a pyre, flames licking at a once-beloved silhouette.
"Not clearly," I said, voice tight.
"You will," he murmured. "The closer you walk toward your fate, the more your past will return."
"Is that a threat?"
"A promise."
He stepped closer.
I caught the faint scent of rain clinging to him, like he had walked through storms no one else could see.
"Why are you helping me?" I asked quietly. "Really."
"For balance," he said simply.
"That's not an answer."
"It is the only one you'll get for now."
I glared at him. "You're infuriating."
"And you," he replied, "are still too soft."
I blinked. "Soft?"
He raised a hand as if to touch my cheek, then stopped a breath away.
"Your rage is bright," he said. "But your heart still trembles when your father smiles. Your voice still shakes when you speak to the prince. You hesitate. You pity. You care."
"As if that's a weakness," I snapped.
"In this game?" His eyes flashed. "It is both your greatest strength and your sharpest liability."
I swallowed.
"What should I do, then?" I asked.
He smiled—not kind, not cruel. Just… knowing.
"Learn to decide," he said. "Who you will save when the blood moon rises again."
"And who I'll kill?" I added quietly.
"You already know that answer."
Footsteps echoed from the other end of the hall.
Arcelia's laughter floated toward us—light, charming, sickening.
The shadow-man stepped back into the darkness, fading like smoke.
"Aura?" Arcelia called, head appearing around the corner. "There you are. I've been looking for you everywhere."
Of course she had.
I smoothed my expression into something gentle, turning to face her.
"Were you?" I said sweetly. "How… devoted."
Her smile tightened for barely a second.
Then she linked her arm with mine again, as if we'd always been inseparable.
"Come," she said brightly. "The dressmaker needs your measurements for the banquet gown. We must make sure you look perfect."
I let her pull me along.
Perfect.
If they wanted perfection, I would give it to them.
A perfect princess.
A perfect victim.
A perfect monster.
Whatever it took.
Because somewhere above us, hidden behind the blue of the afternoon sky, the blood moon was waiting its turn.
And this time,
when it rose,
I would not be the one lying on the floor.
Someone else would.