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It makes me reckless.

So I tip my head, give her my best, slow, dangerous smile—the one that’s ruined empires and entire bloodlines.

"What do you want from me, little moon?" My voice drops, thewords silk over razors. "Tell me. Say it out loud. I’ll give it to you."

Her eyes flick to mine, and she doesn’t look away this time.

"Your heart," she says.

There’s no tease in it. No challenge. No clever play at seduction.

Just that simple, brutal truth. And I feel it like a punch, low and devastating, because she has no idea what she’s asking.

"You don’t want that," I murmur, the smile slipping, something real bleeding through. "Trust me, love, no one’s ever survived my heart."

Her mouth curls, soft and sad and stubborn all at once.

"I’ll survive it."

I shake my head, glance away like I’m trying to laugh this off, but my chest aches too much to fake it.

"You should’ve asked for something easier," I mutter. "My body, my power, my fucking soul. You could’ve had all of it without asking."

She doesn’t say anything—just slides her fingers over mine, casual and deliberate like she’s laying claim without even trying.

"You already gave me all that," she murmurs. "I want the part of you, you won’t."

Her words drop like stones in the quiet between us, heavier than she probably realizes. She says it so simply, like she’s just offering me the weather, but it lands like a blade straight to the center of me.

"You have mine," she says.

I should laugh, should tease her, flip it back like I always do—cut the gravity of her honesty with something cheap and wicked because that’s what I’ve always done. But I can’t. Not when she’s looking at me like that, like I’m worth something more than the pieces I’ve been reduced to. Like she doesn’t see the fracturelines or worse, sees all of them and still chooses to hand me her goddamn heart anyway.

"You were the first one who was nice to me here," she adds, voice quieter now, like it costs her something to say it. "Even though you had your own reasons to be. I know you did." She smiles then, soft and crooked and so fucking kind it guts me. "I get it. The whole sex god thing. But I see you, Caspian. Not just the shine you throw around. I see you."

She shifts a little closer, her shoulder brushing mine like it’s nothing but it feels like everything.

"And I do love you," she says, brutal and beautiful, like a blade dipped in honey. "Not because of what you can give me, or how good you make me feel—though, let’s not lie, you’re very good at that." A little smirk at the corner of her mouth, enough to make me want to devour her. "But because when everything here was cold and cruel and sharp, you were the first person who made me feel like I belonged."

My throat tightens, and I glance away because I don’t know what the fuck to do with that. No one’s ever handed me something like this without wanting to tear it out of my chest afterward.

"And I’m sorry," she continues, softer now, the words slipping past her lips like a confession. "For everything that’s happened to you. For what Branwen did. For how the world has tried to shatter you over and over again."

Her fingers graze my arm like she can smooth the cracks in me, and I want to believe it’s that simple.

"I wish I could take it all away from you," she murmurs. "If I could carry that weight for you, I would."

Gods, she means it. She’s not just saying it to be sweet—she’d burn herself alive to ease the ache in me.

I look at her then, really look, and it almost ruins me. Because she’s the only one who’s ever seen past the shine, past the mess,past the broken, ugly pieces Branwen left behind—and still wanted me.

Still fucking loves me.

So I do the only thing I can.

I lean in, my forehead pressing against hers, our breaths tangling in the space between us.

"You already took it away," I murmur. "You just didn’t know it."