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“It was expected of me before,” I say carefully. “Before my captivity, I might have considered such an arrangement. It would have been my duty.”

Something flashes in Maya’s eyes—hurt, perhaps—before she masters her expression. “And now?” she asks, her voice deliberately light.

I step closer to her, close enough that I can catch the subtle scent of her—lavender and chemicals from the lab and something uniquely her. “I am a different man than I was ten years ago. My priorities have changed. My understanding of what matters has, as well.”

She doesn’t back away, though I can see the rapid pulse at the base of her throat. “How so?”

“My captivity changed me,” I say softly. “In ways that those who weren’t there—who didn’t experience it firsthand—can never fully comprehend. Aria sees the Griffin of before, the king she remembers. But that man is gone.”

Maya’s eyes search mine. “And who are you now?”

The question hangs between us, heavy with implications. “I’m still discovering that,” I admit. “But I know one thing for certain.” I pause, weighing my next words carefully. “You’re the only one around whom I can truly be myself. The only one who knows who I’ve become.”

Her expression softens, the irritation melting away. “You’re good with words, Griffin. That’s going to get you in trouble one day.”

Her smile is teasing, light. I reach forward and touch the edge of her glasses, murmuring, “They suit you. Perhaps a little too much.”

Her face grows red, and she bats my hand away. “I have to go. You should be careful around that Aria. I don’t trust her.”

My lips curve. “Is that jealousy?”

Her eyes widen. “M–Me? Jealous? That’s absurd!”

But her voice is high-pitched, and her whole face is red now. I lean forward to tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear. “Good. Because you have no reason to be. I’m not attracted to Aria. She’s not my type.” I pause before asking deliberately, “Would you like to know who is?”

I see the panic and heat in her eyes. “I—I have to go. We’ll talk about this later.”

She takes off, and I chuckle to myself.

Yes, we will.

Chapter Ten

Dr. Maya Sorin

Night after night, I find myself abandoning the comfort of my bed for the open sky.

It doesn’t matter how exhausted I am or how cold the night air grows—the walls press in on me, memories of my cell creeping like shadows across the ceiling. Some nights I wake gasping, clawing at invisible restraints. Other nights, I don’t sleep at all, just stare at the walls until they seem to inch closer.

The cottage garden has become my sanctuary. I’ve created a small nest for myself—a thick blanket spread on the soft grass, another to cover me, and the endless canvas of stars above. My mother has stopped asking why she finds me outside each morning. She simply brings me coffee and squeezes my shoulder.

Tonight is no different. The moon hangs fat and bright in the sky, nearly full. According to Erik, the ceremony to reinstate Griffin as king will happen when it reaches its peak in another week or so. The thought sends a strange flutter through my stomach.

I wrap my cardigan tighter around me, settling onto my blanket. The night air carries the scent of pine and earth, crisp and clean. I take a deep breath, feeling some of the tension ease from my shoulders.

“Can’t sleep again?”

The deep voice doesn’t startle me anymore. I turn to see Griffin emerging from the shadows of the trees that separate the cottages from the main palace. He’s wearing loose pants and a simple white shirt, his silver hair almost glowing in the moonlight.

“Never can,” I admit, pulling my knees to my chest.

He approaches slowly, as if giving me time to tell him to leave. When I don’t, he sits beside me, close enough that I can feel the heat radiating from his body.

“The walls?” he asks quietly.

I nod. “They remind me of...there.”

He doesn’t need me to explain. He lived in that same cell, felt those same walls closing in. Of all people, Griffin understands.