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“You want her to finish bonding with him?” Riven’s voice cuts across the silence like he’s already halfway to grabbing me by the throat. He doesn’t yell—he doesn’t need to. There’s enough threat in his tone to make the walls shrink. “He could kill her. You think this isn’t a setup? He could be here because Branwenlefthim to finish what she started.”

I shake my head before he finishes. Not because I don’t get it. Not because I’m blind to the risk. But because Iwasthere. Isawit. And I’m the only one who’s not clenching his jaw like he wants to eat Caspian alive.

“I don’t think that’s what this is,” I say quietly. “He could’ve stabbed her in the heart, Riven. He had the angle, the strength, the power. Hehadher.”

I pause, running a hand through my hair. My fingers come back sticky with blood that isn’t mine, and gods, I hate the way it feels under my nails.

“But he didn’t,” I go on. “He hit her shoulder. It was high—too damn close—but still. If it were me? Under Branwen’s leash? If I wanted Luna dead? She would be.”

Riven doesn’t answer, but he turns slowly, pacing again, the kind of pacing that digs grooves in the ground. His magic sizzles in the air behind him, hot and impatient.

“I think,” I continue, glancing at Caspian—still silent, still soaked in guilt, still not defending himself—“I think he flinched. Last second. Like something in himpulled.”

Ambrose mutters something from his corner, too low for me to catch. Probably a curse. Definitely disapproval.

But I don’t stop.

“Besides,” I add, quieter now, walking the thought out loud, “Branwen. Why did she leave? Why didn’t she finish it? Why didn’t shemakeCaspian finish her off? She had Lucien. Orin. She could’ve used Caspian if she was still holding the bond.”

No one says anything.

Because the answer is obvious.

“I think shelosthim,” I say. “I think something snapped. Maybe it’s the dual binding thing—maybe it’s Luna’s magic pushing back. I don’t know. But Branwen doesn't walk away when she’s winning. She didn’t retreat. Sheran.”

Riven stops pacing. His eyes narrow.

Caspian lifts his head just a fraction, like he’s hearing it too,feelingit—the shift in the narrative. From traitor to something else.

Something more dangerous. Something moreours.

Caspian’s voice cracks the silence like a whip—raw, brutal, too loud in a room that’s been holding its breath for too long.

“She’s not in my head anymore,” he says. Quiet first. Like he’s confessing. But it builds. “I don’t know how it happened… but I can feel the bond trying to form with Luna.”

My gut tightens.

Riven doesn’t miss a beat. “So you getrewardedfor trying to kill her?” His voice is ice on stone—flat, cruel, and lethal.

“I didn’t fuckingwant to!” Caspian explodes. He’s on his feet now, blood still crusted on his fingers, his face blotchy and uneven with rage. “It felt like I was stabbingmyself! You have no fucking idea, Riven, what it was like—so please—spare meyour judgmental superiority right now!”

His chest is heaving. His eyes are wild.

“I’m fuckingbroken,” he spits, shaking. “Do you think Iwantto sleep with Luna?!”

That silences the room.

Even me.

I stare at Caspian, the wild edge of him I don’t think I’ve ever seen before. He’s not just angry. He’s unraveling. The kind of undone that doesn’t scream manipulation—it screamsgrief. Screams a man who was turned into something else and is only now starting to feel his own skin again.

He presses the heels of his hands to his eyes like he’s trying to press the memory out of his skull.

“I didn’t want it,” he mutters. “Not like that. Not forced. Not on her knees. Not scared of me.”

I glance at Riven, who’s stone now, unreadable. That’s worse than fury. Because Rivenfeels. He burns. But right now, he’s still—and that means he’s considering the possibility that Caspian isn’t lying.

And gods help us all if he’s not. Because that means Branwen’s lost her grip. It means the rules are changing again.