Elara’s POV

"One last moment, Ela. That’s all I’m asking."

His voice slithered after me like something crawling across wet stone. I didn’t slow. My boots crunched against the gravel path, each step deliberate, measured—away from him.

"You’ll want to see this." Gareth’s tone shifted. Lighter. Almost playful. The way a cat bats at a mouse before the killing bite. "It’s about where my dear brother spent last night."

"I don’t care what you have to say."

"Liar."

The word landed between my shoulder blades. I hated that it made me flinch. 𝚏𝗿𝗲𝐞𝐰𝚎𝕓𝐧𝚘𝘃𝗲𝐥.𝐜𝚘𝕞

I reached the stable gate. My mare stood tethered at the post, ears flicking toward the sound of our approach. I grabbed for the buckle of her bridle, fingers working at the leather.

Then his hand was on my arm again.

Not a grab this time. Worse. A grip—firm, deliberate, his fingers wrapping around the muscle above my elbow with the kind of pressure that said I’m not letting go until I’m finished.

I turned. Looked down at his hand. Then up at his face.

"Remove it."

"Just a moment." He was close enough that I could count every burst blood vessel mapped across his nose. His breath was warm and foul—old wine, old rot. "Then I’ll leave you alone forever, if that’s what you want."

"It is what I want. It’s always been what I want."

His lips curled. That smile. That practiced, poisonous smile I’d once mistaken for charm.

"Just look." His free hand dipped into his coat pocket. "One look. Then you can go back to pretending your perfect marriage isn’t rotting from the inside."

He pulled out a crystal. Small—no larger than a walnut—but it pulsed with inner light. Pale blue, like trapped moonlight. A memory crystal. I recognized the enchantment immediately. The same kind used in imperial court proceedings to preserve witness testimony.

"Where did you get that?"

"Does it matter?" He held it up between thumb and forefinger, turning it so the light caught. "What matters is what’s inside."

I should have walked away. Every instinct screamed at me to mount my horse and ride until his voice couldn’t reach me. But my feet wouldn’t move. Because I’d spent all night staring at an empty bed. All night listening for footsteps that never came. All night drowning in the silence Kaelen left behind.

And Gareth knew it. He could smell the weakness on me like blood in water.

"Watch," he whispered.

The crystal flared.

An image bloomed in the air between us—translucent, shimmering, but unmistakable in its clarity. A bedchamber. Not ours. The sheets were deep burgundy silk, rumpled and twisted. Candles burned low on a side table.

And there, in the center of that bed—

Kaelen.

My husband lay on his back, one arm thrown above his head, his dark hair fanned across the pillow. His chest was bare. His face slack with sleep—peaceful, unguarded, in a way I hadn’t seen in a long while. He looked... content.

But it wasn’t his expression that drove the air from my lungs.

It was the woman beside him.

Seraphine.

Her black hair spilled across the pillow like ink, cascading over the burgundy silk in dark waves. She was curled against his side, her body fitted to his like she belonged there. One pale hand rested on his chest—splayed, possessive, her fingers pressing into the bare skin above his heart.

They were both asleep. Both at ease. Two people who had clearly been in that bed together for a long while.

The crystal pulsed once more, then dimmed.

I couldn’t breathe.

"Beautiful, isn’t it?" Gareth’s voice came from somewhere far away. Another world. "My dear brother. So peaceful. So... satisfied."

My mouth opened. Nothing came out.

"That was last night, Ela." He tucked the crystal back into his pocket with the casual ease of a man pocketing spare change. "While you were waiting up like a good little wife. While you were writing your desperate little notes and sending guards to track him down." He leaned closer. "He was there. With her."

"You’re lying." The words scraped out of my throat raw and broken. "This is fabricated. You made—"

"Memory crystals can’t be forged. You know that. You worked in the imperial archives. You catalogued countless memory crystals." His grin was slow and wide. Satisfied. "The enchantment captures exactly what exists. Nothing more. Nothing less."

He was right. I knew he was right. That was what made the ground tilt beneath my feet.

"She’s been there for years, you know." Gareth released my arm at last. He didn’t need to hold me anymore. The crystal had done its work. "Our lovely Seraphine. Bringing pastries to the children in the morning. Playing games with Valerius in the garden. Managing the household affairs, attending the councils, sitting at his right hand at every private dinner."

Each word landed like a blade between my ribs.

"She’s been doing everything a proper queen should do," he continued, voice dripping with mock sympathy. "Everything you should have been doing. For years, Ela. While you were—where were you again? Oh, that’s right." He tilted his head. "Gone."

My vision blurred. I blinked hard. Refused to let the tears fall in front of him.

"This is ancient history between us," Gareth said, waving a dismissive hand. "What happened before—me and Isolde—that was ages ago. Foolishness. We were young, stupid. But this?" He gestured vaguely toward where the image had hung in the air. "This is happening now. This is your husband choosing another woman. Night after night."

"Stop talking."

"I’m trying to help you."

"Help." The word tasted like ash. "You don’t help anyone but yourself."

"Maybe." He shrugged. One shoulder, lazy. "But I’m the only one being honest with you right now. Everyone else in that palace knows. The servants. The guards. Cassian. They all know about Seraphine, and none of them told you."

That hit somewhere deep and vital. Because it was true that no one had said a word. No one had warned me.

Gareth reached into his breast pocket and produced a small card—cream-colored, expensive paper. He took my hand—I was too numb to resist—and slipped the card into the opening of my satchel.

"My address," he said simply. "When my dear brother makes his choice official—and he will, Ela, it’s only a matter of time—you’ll need somewhere to go. Someone who actually wants you. We can start over."

I stared at him. At this bloated, wine-soaked shadow of the man I’d once believed I loved. The man who’d taken my innocence and my trust and ground them both into the dirt.

"I would rather die," I said.

He laughed. Soft. Knowing.

"You say that now." He stepped back. Straightened his coat. "But loneliness has a way of changing one’s mind."

Then he turned and walked away. Unhurried. Whistling something tuneless under his breath. He didn’t look back. He didn’t need to. The damage was done, and he knew it.

I stood alone in the bright morning light, leaning against my mare. My hands trembled so violently that I couldn’t retrieve the reins. The leather slipped right through my fingers. The tormenting realization burned in my mind: while I had waited for him on the settee, Kaelen had been in Seraphine’s bed.