Page 35

“I don’t understand,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper. “Aria is one of your people. You’re the king.”

“And I will do everything in my power to save as many of my people as possible,” Griffin replies, his voice measured and calm. “But don’t mistake my concern for Aria as anything more than that of a king for his subject.”

Erik clears his throat. “I should check on those other samples.” He slips out of the lab, leaving Griffin and me alone.

The silence stretches between us, heavy with unspoken words. I turn back to my work, trying to ignore Griffin’s presence, but I can feel his eyes on me.

“Maya.” His voice is softer now. “I need you to know something.”

I keep my eyes fixed on the microscope. “I’m not interested.”

“I never received any message about your mother.”

My hands go still. I look up at him, trying to keep my expression neutral. “Jerry mentioned that.”

“I would have come back immediately if I had known.” There’s a sincerity in his voice that makes my chest ache. “I’ve been investigating what happened to that message, along with the fire itself.”

“It doesn’t matter now,” I say, turning away. “What’s done is done.”

“It matters to me.” Griffin takes a step closer. “Everything about you matters to me, Maya.”

I laugh, a harsh sound that fills the sterile lab. “Please don’t. I’m here to do a job, not to rehash the past.”

Griffin sighs, running a hand through his silver hair. “I’m not asking for forgiveness. I’m not even asking for understanding. I just want you to know the truth.”

“And what truth is that?” I ask, unable to keep the bitterness from my voice.

“I liked your mother. If I had known for even a moment that there was foul play—I don’t care who it was that instigated everything, Maya. I will get your mother and you the justice you deserve.”

I shake my head, refusing to let his words penetrate the walls I’ve built. “It won’t bring her back. And besides, Griffin, I’m just a human. Remember? We’re not equals to you. You toy with us. Like the saying goes, we’re good enough to fuck, but not good enough to—”

“That’s enough,” he snaps, a flash of pain crossing his face. “There are things you don’t know.”

“You’re right. It’s not my place, Your Majesty. And I won’t stop Aria from receiving any cure I develop. Why should I?” I turn back to my work, blinking rapidly to clear the sudden moisture in my eyes. “Now, if you don’t mind, I have work to do.”

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.”

“No, I’m not.” I push past him, heading back into my room. “I stopped being your anything the moment you decided I wasn’t good enough to be your mate.”

He follows me inside. “That’s not what happened.”

“I don’t care what happened!” I whirl to face him. “I don’t care what you have to say. I just want you to leave me alone.”

“I can’t do that.”

“Why not?” I demand, my voice rising. “What do you want from me, Griffin? I’m here, aren’t I? I’m going to make your antidote. What more do you want?”

“I want you to stop punishing yourself for something that wasn’t your fault.

” His voice is gentle now, his eyes soft with concern.

“I want you to grow up and realize that there are people who care about you, people who love you, people who have been going out of their minds with worry for the past six months.”

His words cut deeper than I want to admit. “Get out,” I whisper.

“Maya—”

“GET OUT!” I shout, pushing against his chest with all my strength. He barely moves. “There is nobody I care about anymore. Nobody. So, just leave me alone.”

“Not even me?”

The new voice startles us both. I turn to find Leanna standing in the doorway, her eyes wide and hurt.

My breath catches in my throat. “Leanna.”

Griffin looks between us, then nods. “I’ll leave you two alone.” He passes Leanna on his way out, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder before disappearing down the hall.

For a long moment, Leanna and I just stare at each other. She looks the same—beautiful, elegant, her long, dark hair cascading down her back—yet different. Or maybe it’s me. Maybe I’m the one who’s different now, more than just a little bit broken.

“Hi, Maya,” she says softly.

I try to hold on to my anger, my coldness, but this is Leanna—my best friend, the sister of my heart. “Hi.”

She crosses the room slowly, as if afraid I might bolt. “You look terrible.”

A startled laugh escapes me. “Thanks.”

“I mean it.” She stops in front of me, her eyes searching my face. “You’re too thin. There are shadows under your eyes. And you reek of alcohol.”

I look away. “It has been a rough six months.”

“It has,” she agrees. Then, without warning, she throws her arms around me, pulling me close. “God, I’ve missed you.”

I stand stiffly in her embrace, trying to maintain the distance I’ve cultivated for so long. But my resistance crumbles, and my arms wrap around her, holding on tight as if she might evaporate.

“Why did you leave without saying goodbye?” she whispers, her voice thick with tears. “Why didn’t you come to me? I would have taken care of you, Maya. I would have helped you.”

“I didn’t need help.” I try to keep my voice from quivering. “I’m fine.”

“You’re a liar, that’s what you are. You’re a mess, Maya. You’re a complete mess, and even if no one else can see it, I can. How could you let yourself get to this point?!”

The dam breaks. All the grief, all the pain, all the loneliness of the past six months come rushing out in a torrent of tears. I cling to my friend, my face dampening her shoulder.