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TWENTY-FIVE

SELENE

T he bathwater had long gone cold, but Selene didn’t move.

She sat with her knees pulled to her chest, chin resting just above the line of water, eyes half-closed as steam ghosted across the surface in pale ribbons. The tub was carved from stone and sunk into the floor of Nyra’s hidden chambers—her personal retreat, tucked far beneath the central keep.

“I call it the one place in this gods-forsaken mountain where no one is spying on me,” Nyra had said earlier, tossing her a robe and pointing toward the bath like she knew Selene needed it.

Now, Selene let her fingers trail the water’s edge. Her skin prickled with residual magic. Her veins still felt like they hummed. The aftershock of what she’d done— what she was —hadn’t faded.

She had walked the Veil.

Not metaphorically. Not symbolically.

She had stood in it.

And Kael… Kael had seemed to see her as fire and salvation at once.

She swallowed hard. Then the door creaked open.

“Figured you’d soak until the water froze solid,” Nyra said, her voice light but sharp.

Selene didn’t lift her head. “Not a terrible way to go.”

“Don’t get dramatic.” Nyra crossed the room, boots scuffing the floor, and stopped just short of the tub. “I’ve got worse news.”

Selene lifted her gaze.

Nyra’s face had hardened.“My spy on the upper level just sent word. My brother’s been imprisoned.”

The words echoed like metal on stone.

“No,” Selene whispered.

“Yes,” Nyra said grimly. “Ruarc had him dragged out of the chamber like a traitor. No trial. No hearing. Just a cell.”

Selene surged out of the bath, water splashing over the sides. “Where?”

Nyra didn’t blink. “The Drowning Cells.”

Selene had never heard of them. But by the way Nyra said it, she knew they weren’t for prisoners the court intended to release.

Ruarc had made his move. Kael had tried to protect her, probably by delaying the ceremony or some other reason—and now he was gone .

Selene didn’t pause. She grabbed the robe, fastened it at her waist, and turned toward Nyra.

“We’re getting him out.”

Nyra’s brow arched. “You sure about that, Princess?”

“You said you had spies. I know you’ve got keys and I know how good you are at sneaking around. And you’re not the type to sit still while your brother gets caged for standing up to your father.”

Nyra stared at her a moment longer. Then, slowly, she grinned before tossing some of her own clothes as Selene.

“Man, you make it hard not to like you. Now come on, help me pack some things up before we head down.”

They moved through the inner tunnels of the keep—narrow, torchlit arteries of the fortress only Nyra seemed to know. The air was damp and stale, each step closer to the Cells thickening the air with mildew and iron.

Selene’s heart was thunder in her ribs.

She didn’t speak. Didn’t breathe too deeply.

Kael’s face wouldn’t leave her mind. The way he’d kissed her when he had walked her to her door. The way his voice had cracked when he said he’d stall the ceremony. That steel in his eyes as he talked about confronting his father.

She hadn’t felt helpless in the bath. But she’d felt unready.

Now?

Now she felt like wildfire caught in human skin.

Once they finally reached the place he was being held, Selene took a moment to gather her surroundings.

The Drowning Cells weren’t cells at all. They were caverns —dug into the base of the mountain, lined with ancient runes and pulsing with faint wards. Chains hung from the ceilings. Some were damp. Others bloodstained.

Selene’s stomach twisted.

They stopped outside a thick iron door.

Nyra whispered something to the guard—one of hers—and the man stepped aside.

Selene slipped through the opening, quiet as shadow. And there he was.

Shirtless. Blood streaked down one arm. His back was to her, shoulders tense, like he’d sensed her long before she entered.

“Selene?” he said, voice hoarse.

Instead of answering, she ran to him.

He turned just in time for her to throw her arms around his chest, pressing her face to his shoulder.

“I’m okay,” he said, stunned.

His arms wrapped tightly around her.

“I told you,” she whispered. “I’m not Elara. I’m not going to let you carry this alone.”

“I had it under control.”

She held back a harsh laugh. “Yeah, it seems that way. Now come on before your sister has to explain why she’s here to anyone else besides her own man.”

Ten minutes later, they were gone.

Nyra had packed bags—food, blades, stolen court sigils—and opened one of the Veil paths used only by old couriers and thieves.

“Where are we going?” Selene asked as they moved through the hidden trail.

Kael glanced back at her, his voice grim. “The haunted forest.”

Selene blinked. “That’s not a metaphor?”

“No,” Kael said. “It’s literal.”

“Great,” she muttered. “Can’t wait.”

He smiled despite himself.

The Veil forest loomed. Dark. Dense. Breathing.

It wasn’t silent, but it wasn’t alive in the way mortal forests were. No birdsong. No rustle of wind. Just whispers. Distant, wrong. Echoes from both sides of the Veil bleeding together.

Selene walked beside Kael, their arms brushing.

They didn’t speak for a long time. Not until she reached for his hand. He looked at her. Her fingers laced through his.

“I don’t need the prophecy,” she said softly. “I don’t need the bond or the title or the court.”

Kael swallowed hard.

“I just need you,” she said.

And he pulled her closer. To keep warm. To keep sane. To keep her close because Selene could feel it, This forest had teeth.

But so did the court.