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“There’s nothing more to discuss,” I respond coldly. “They cleared out before we arrived. We were too late.”

“We saved some of them, Griffin.” Erik’s voice softens. “Seven survivors. That’s not nothing.”

Seven out of how many? I don’t voice the thought. The survivors remain in the healing ward, many still unable to speakabout what was done to them. Their eyes hold the same haunted look I sometimes catch in my own reflection.

“The council meeting is in an hour,” I say instead, changing the subject. “Have Aria’s physicians been summoned?”

“They’re waiting to give their report.” Erik hesitates. “Her condition is deteriorating rapidly. Elder Vane is—”

“Furious,” I finish for him. “I’m well aware.”

Once, the thought of Aria falling sick would have moved me—before I became a captive, before Maya entered my life, and before Aria pursued me after Maya left. Now, I feel only strategic concern. She is the daughter of Elder Vane, head of one of the most powerful families in the kingdom. Her illness means political complications I cannot afford.

When did I become so cold?

The answer whispers through me like a ghost: Since the night of the ceremony. Since the prophecy. Since Maya left.

“Griffin,” Erik says, breaking into my thoughts. “You haven’t asked about her in months.”

I don’t pretend to misunderstand. “There’s nothing to ask.”

“I found her again.” The words hang in the air between us. “Last month.”

Something cracks in my carefully maintained composure. “Where?”

“Seattle.” Erik watches me closely. “She has established herself there. Working for a biotech research firm called GenTherapeutics.”

The name means nothing to me, but I file it away automatically. “Is she safe?”

“She appears to be.” Erik hesitates again. “She seems well. Focused on her work. She’s their lead researcher already.”

Lead researcher. In six months. I’m not surprised. Maya was always brilliant, always driven. Of course she would excel, would rebuild her life from the ashes of what we destroyed.

“Good,” I say, turning back to the window to hide whatever might show on my face. “That’s good.”

“Griffin…” Erik’s voice is pained. “The mate bond—”

“Is irrelevant,” I cut him off. “She made her choice. I made mine.”

“The prophecy may not—”

“Enough.” The word cracks like a whip. “The council meeting, Erik. See that everything is prepared.”

He rises, frustration evident in every line of his body, but he doesn’t push further. At the door, he pauses. “You haven’t been sleeping.”

It’s not a question. The bond between brothers is different from a mate bond, but it has its own form of awareness.

“I have a kingdom to run,” I reply.

“You’re no good to the kingdom if you drive yourself into the ground.” His tone softens. “She wouldn’t want this for you, Griffin.”

A harsh laugh escapes me. “I think it’s exactly what she would want.”

Erik shakes his head but leaves without another word. The silence he leaves behind presses against me like a physical weight.

I go back to my desk and open the drawer, taking out the note one more time. Her handwriting is neat, precise—just like everything else about her. Rational. Methodical. Except for the way she loved. That was chaotic, all-consuming, unlike anything I’d ever known.

And I threw it away. For a prophecy I didn’t want to believe. For a kingdom that suddenly seems worthless without her in it.