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“I can’t sleep inside either,” he confesses, voice low. “Every night I end up on the balcony of my chambers. It’s better than nothing, but...”

“But it’s not the same as being completely under the sky,” I finish for him.

Our eyes meet in the moonlight, understanding passing between us. Something deeper pulls at me, an inexplicable urge to be closer to him. It’s been building over the past few days—a strange, insistent tug that makes my heart race whenever he’s near.

“Come with me,” he says suddenly.

I blink at him. “Where?”

"My chambers have a large balcony. It’s higher up and away from the trees, so it’s more open. You may find it easier to restthere, and you’ll be protected from the elements.” He hesitates. “I can sleep elsewhere if you want privacy.”

“No,” I say too quickly. The thought of him leaving makes something twist inside me. “I mean, you don’t have to go. If you’re uncomfortable indoors, too, then...”

He stands and offers me his hand. “It would be better for both of us.”

I should say no. I should stay right here in my safe little garden nest. But my hand reaches for his of its own accord, warmth spreading from where our skin connects.

“Just for tonight,” I say, more to myself than to him.

The walk to the palace is quiet. Griffin leads me through side entrances and empty corridors, away from the prying eyes of guards or late-night staff. His fingers remain loosely twined with mine, a lifeline in the darkness.

His chambers are larger than I expected—a massive suite with separate rooms flowing into one another. Unlike the rest of the palace, which is ornate and formal, his space is surprisingly minimal. The furniture is elegant but simple, the colors muted earth tones. No clutter, no unnecessary decoration.

He leads me straight to the balcony doors and throws them open. The cool night air rushes in, and I step outside eagerly.

The balcony wraps around the corner of the palace, offering a panoramic view of the surrounding forests and mountains. The moon bathes everything in silver light. It’s beautiful, breathtaking even, but most importantly, it’s open. I can breathe here.

“Better?” Griffin asks, coming to stand beside me.

“Much,” I admit, leaning against the stone railing.

He moves away briefly, returning with a thick blanket that he spreads on the balcony floor, followed by another to wrap around me. The gesture is so thoughtful, it makes my chest ache.

“Would you like something to drink?” he asks. “I find it helps, sometimes.”

“Please.”

He disappears into his chambers again, and I take this time alone to collect myself. What am I doing here? This man is a king of wolves—or will be soon. I’m a human scientist who doesn’t even belong in this world. And yet...

Something about him feels like home in a way nothing else has since my capture.

Griffin returns with two glasses and a bottle of amber liquid. “Bourbon,” he explains, pouring a measure into each glass. “If you don’t like it—”

“I like bourbon,” I say, taking a glass from him. Our fingers brush, and that same electricity shoots up my arm.

He sits on the blanket, his back against the stone balustrade, and I join him, careful to leave space between us. The bourbon burns pleasantly down my throat, warming me from the inside.

“One more week,” I say, staring at the moon. “Are you ready?”

He follows my gaze upward. “I don’t know if anyone can truly be ready to wear a crown.”

“You’ve done it before.”

“A lifetime ago,” he says quietly. “I was younger then. More certain.”

I study his profile in the moonlight—the strong jaw, the straight nose, the faint scar on his cheek. There’s a weariness to him that wasn’t there in the cell, a weight that seems to press on his shoulders.

“What changed?” I ask.