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For a moment, I think he might press the issue, but instead, he nods. “I’ll leave you to it. Dinner will be served in the main dining hall at eight, but I can have something sent to your quarters if you prefer.”

“I’ll eat here,” I reply, not looking up.

“As you wish.” He pauses at the door. “Maya?”

I reluctantly meet his gaze.

“I’m glad you’re here, even if you’re not.”

With that, he’s gone, leaving me alone with my thoughts and the antiseptic smell of the lab.

Hours later,I finally make my way to the room they’ve prepared for me in the east wing of the palace. It is spacious and elegant, with a large four-poster bed, a sitting area, and a private bathroom. Floor-to-ceiling windows open onto a balcony that overlooks the palace gardens.

It’s beautiful and entirely too much. I drop my bag on the bed and head straight for the shower, hoping the hot water will wash away some of the tension from my body. It doesn’t.

After changing into a pair of sweatpants and a tank top, I check my phone. Two messages from Mathew, confirming his arrival early tomorrow. I send a quick reply, instructing him to meet me at the lab at nine in the morning.

Despite the exhaustion weighing on my limbs, sleep eludes me. I toss and turn, my mind racing with the events of the day. Griffin’s words echo in my head, along with Jerry’s revelation about the reopened investigation. Could it be true that Griffin never received the message? That he would have come if he had known?

I sit up, punching my pillow in frustration.

It doesn’t matter. Even if he didn’t know about my mother, he still chose Aria over me. He still said those words.

Unable to lie still any longer, I throw back the covers and make my way out onto the balcony. The night air is cool against my skin, the sky clear and filled with stars. I lean against the railing, drinking in the familiar sight of the palace grounds stretching out before me.

My gaze falls on a bottle of wine, a corkscrew, and two stemmed glasses sitting on a small table in the corner of the balcony. Someone—probably a well-meaning staff member—has clearly left them there for me. I hesitate only briefly before opening the wine and pouring myself a generous glass.

The first sip burns going down, but the second is smoother. By the third, I feel some of the tension easing from my shoulders. Alcohol has become my closest companion these past six months—the only thing that seems to dull the constant ache in my chest.

I take another long drink, letting the wine warm me from the inside. My thoughts drift to Griffin, to the softness in his eyes when he said he was glad I was here. To the pain in his expression.

I drain my glass and fill it again, moving to sit in one of the balcony chairs. The palace is quiet, most of its inhabitants asleep. In the stillness, I can almost pretend that the last six months never happened. That my mother is still alive, that Griffin and I are still—

No. I shake my head and take another sip. That life is gone. That Maya is gone. All that remains is the work, the science, the antidote.

I’m halfway through my third glass when a movement catches my eye. A figure emerges on the neighboring balcony—tall, broad-shouldered, unmistakable.

Griffin.

Our eyes meet across the short distance separating our balconies. Of course they would put me next to him. Of course.

Before I can look away, he vaults over the railing separating our balconies, landing gracefully on mine. I rise to my feet, wine sloshing over the rim of my glass.

“What are you doing?” I demand.

His gaze drops to the glass in my hand, then to the half-empty bottle on the table. Without a word, he crosses the balcony, takes the glass from my hand, and hurls it over the railing. The bottle follows, both shattering somewhere in the darkness below.

I stare at him, momentarily speechless with shock and anger. “How dare you!”

“I’ll dare a lot more than that,” Griffin says, his voice quiet but firm. “I’m not going to stand by and watch you destroy yourself.”

“I’m not destroying myself,” I retort. “I’m having a glass of wine. A normal, adult activity that is absolutely none of your business.”

“It wasn’t just one,” he counters. “You think I don’t know how much you’ve been drinking?”

Heat floods my cheeks. “You should learn to mind your own business.”

“This is my business, Maya.” He steps closer, his eyes intense. “You are my business.”