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Darkness. Then flashes of light. I'm seeing through eyes that aren't mine again, feeling emotions that belong to someone else.

The castle is burning. I can smell smoke, hear screams echoing through marble halls. I'm running, my breath ragged in my throat, desperation driving each step.

"Keira!" The name tears from my lips—no, from Raith's lips. This is his memory again, bleeding through our tether as we sleep.

I round a corner and skid to a halt. The door ahead is half-open, firelight spilling through the gap. Something is wrong. The quality of the light is strange, tinged with an oily darkness that seems to absorb rather than reflect.

Fear grips me, but I push forward, shouldering through the door.

What I see inside sears itself into my mind.

A young woman in her early twenties stands in the center of the room, her arms outstretched. She looks like Raith—the same golden eyes, the same proud bearing, though her hair is a deep auburn rather than black.

She's breathtakingly beautiful, and I can feel Raith's admiration and respect for her. His heartbreak and fear at what he sees.

Fire spirals around her in intricate patterns, but it's fighting against something else—a darkness that seems to move with purpose, with malice.

Across from her is a figure that shifts and changes, its form unstable, like smoke given flesh. The energy clears and I see it fully, familiarity prickling through my own memories into the vision.

The tall, pale and twisted flesh hunched over with limbs that are too long. The gaping mouth like a smile and the sightless eyes.

A siphon.

The air around it ripples with void energy, purple, green, and consuming. Somehow, this one seems even more powerful than the one I faced in Confluence. More deadly.

"Keira, stop!" I scream, lunging forward.

Her head turns, and for a single moment, her eyes lock with mine. Recognition flashes, followed by a depth of regret that cuts like a blade.

"I'm sorry, little brother," she whispers. "Run. Run now."

She draws deeper, pulling forth more fire essence than any human body should be able to channel. I can see it happening—the magic rushing through her, brightening her from within until her skin seems translucent, until the veins beneath glow bright orange.

I can see the outline of her skeleton through flesh and watch as the bone flakes away to ash, consumed by impossible heat.

The siphon shrieks, a sound no human throat could make, and lunges forward.

"No!" I scream, but it's too late.

Keira detonates.

There's a moment of perfect silence, a breath suspended in time. Then fire explodes outward in a blinding wave. The wall of heat slams into me, searing the left side of my body, throwing me backward through the doorway. The siphon is enveloped entirely, its form disintegrating in the inferno.

The last thing I see is the ceiling collapsing, massive stones falling toward me as pain consumes everything.

I wake with a gasp, bolting upright in bed. My heart pounds against my ribs, and I can still feel the phantom pain of burns across my skin, the echo of Raith's anguish. The pain of those burns... I only felt it for an instant, and it breaks my heart. I can't even imagine suffering that. Being marked by that. Knowing the source was the death of my own sister trying to protect me.

Beside me, Raith is already sitting up, his eyes wide in the darkness and touched by a distance and sadness that tears at my insides. I wasn't just seeing his memory. I was having the dream he was having. Reliving the same memory he must be haunted by night after night.

"Nessa?"

"I saw—" My voice breaks. "I saw what happened to your sister."

His entire body goes rigid. In the dim light filtering through the window, I can see the muscle jumping in his jaw. "I'm sorry you had to see that."

I swallow hard, tears pricking at the corners of my eyes. "I'm sorry, Raith. I'm so sorry. I don't know how you go on when you have to keep reliving that. Nobody should've had to see that once. To be haunted by it in your dreams... it's—" I trail off, unable to find the words.

He doesn't speak, just stares ahead at nothing, lost in memories I've now witnessed firsthand. Tentatively, I reach out, placing my hand over his where it rests on the blanket.

"She tried to save you," I whisper. "She must have been so powerful."

His head turns slowly, eyes finding mine in the darkness. "She was. The strongest fire affinity in generations." His voice is tight, controlled, but I can feel the grief pulsing through our connection.

"The siphon," I say, the image of that shifting, formless creature burned into my mind. "It was there for you, wasn't it? Just like the one at Confluence."

His laugh is bitter, hollow. "It wasn't just one. Every member of my family died that night. My father. My mother. Gareth. Kiera. All dead. I didn't understand why until later. I had to hear it from a stranger's lips spreading gossip in a tavern miles from home."

I move closer, drawn by the pain I can feel radiating from him. "Tell me."

For a long moment, I think he won't answer. Then his hand turns beneath mine, fingers interlacing. "Not tonight," he says softly. "Not before the Crucible."

The haunted look in his eyes stops me from asking more. Instead, I lean forward, pressing my forehead against his. "Then let me help you forget, just for tonight."

His breath catches. "Nessa..."

"Please," I whisper, my lips brushing against his. "I need this. I need you."

The kiss starts soft, almost hesitant, but that restraint lasts only seconds before deepening into something hungry, desperate. His hands come up to cradle my face, fingers threading into my hair with a tenderness that contradicts the heat of his mouth. I can feel him holding back, that iron control he maintains at all times still firmly in place.

I don't want his control. I want all of him, broken edges and all.

I slip off my bra so I’m only wearing the thin panties, sliding into his space and pressing my body flush against his. My bare breasts and hardened nipples against his chest. My legs spreading over his thick, muscular thigh. I feel the exact moment he surrenders. A tremor runs through him, and with a groan that's half need and half resignation, he pulls me fully onto his lap.

"This doesn't change anything," he murmurs against my neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive spot beneath my ear that makes my entire body shiver. "This is just?—"

"Release. A distraction," I finish for him, already working at the buttons of his shirt with unsteady fingers. "I know."

But I can sense the lie in his words and my own, feel the emotions he's trying so desperately to conceal. A tangled knot of desire, protection, possession, and something deeper, something he refuses to name even to himself. This isn't just physical for him, no matter how much he wants it to be.

I run my hands over the sculpted planes of his chest, the hard muscle beneath tanned skin. Moonlight spills through the window, painting his body in silver and shadow. I trace the lines of his torso with reverent fingers, following the dips and ridges of muscle, marveling at the perfection of him.

His hands slide down my sides, calloused palms rough against the sensitive skin of my waist, trailing warmth in their wake. The cool night air kisses my bare breasts, but I barely notice, too consumed by the heat of his gaze as it sweeps over me.

"Fuck," he breathes, the word whispered like a profane prayer. "You're perfect."

His hands move upward, thumbs brushing the undersides of my breasts with a touch so light it's almost torturous. I arch into him, seeking more, but he holds back, those golden eyes watching me intently, gauging my every reaction.

"I won't break," I breathe, frustration edging into my voice. "I'm not made of glass, Raith. I want you to use me however you need tonight. Let me help you forget. Let me make you feel something good for a change, because you deserve it."

In answer, he lifts me effortlessly, turning to lay me back against the pillows before covering my body with his own. The weight of him is perfect, grounding me, making me feel simultaneously protected and utterly at his mercy. His mouth claims mine again, more demanding this time, and I respond with equal fervor.

The kiss deepens, turns volcanic, his tongue sliding against mine in a rhythm that makes heat pool low in my belly. One of his hands drifts down my side, tracing the curve of my hip before slipping beneath the waistband of my panties. I lift my hips in silent invitation, and he hooks his fingers into the fabric, dragging it slowly down my legs until I'm completely bared to him.

He pulls back just enough to look at me, his eyes darkening to a brassy depth. "How do you look more fucking sexy every day?" His words are rough with desire and awe.

As his gaze traverses my body, I feel magic rising between us, a physical presence in the small space that separates us. My power responds to his, essence flowing between us in a bond that transcends the physical. It's intoxicating, this sharing of something so intrinsic to who we are.

I reach for him, pulling him back down to me, craving the feel of his skin against mine. His mouth finds my throat, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down to my collarbone. When his lips close around my nipple, I arch off the bed with a gasp, one hand flying to the back of his head to hold him there.

He lavishes attention on me, alternating between gentle suction and the light scrape of teeth that sends fire cascading through my veins. All the while, his hand traces maddening patterns along my inner thigh, drawing ever closer to where I need him most, but never quite giving me the relief I crave.

"Raith," I moan, frustration mounting as he continues to tease. "Please."

He lifts his head, those eyes meeting mine with a wicked gleam. "Tell me what you want. I want to hear it," he bites his lip, fingertip tracing my lips, which are already swollen and tingling from his kisses.

I love how turned on it makes him to hear me speak my desires. How much my own pleasure is his favorite part of being together like this.

"Touch me," I demand, beyond caring about pride or patience. "I need you to touch me. Everywhere."

His smile is pure sin as he slides down my body, pressing kisses to my ribs, my stomach, my nipple, the sensitive mound of flesh between my legs. He tortures me, kissing a circle around my clit, so close I can feel his heat washing over me, but taking his time. Kiss by agonizing kiss.

When he finally pries my thighs apart and settles his face between my legs and meets my eyes, my breath catches. I grip his hair, tangling my fingers in it and squeezing in anticipation.

The first touch of his mouth against me is stunning. My back bows, a cry escaping my lips as pleasure surges through my body like a current. His hands grip my hips, holding me in place as his tongue traces patterns that make coherent thought impossible.

I'm dimly aware of the candles around the room burning brighter, their flames stretching higher as they respond to the fire essence flaring in both our bodies. Shadows shift and dance across the walls as Raith continues his delicious torment, bringing me to the edge only to back away, again and again until I'm writhing beneath him, desperate for release.

"Damn it, Raith," I gasp, my nails digging into his shoulders. "Stop teasing. I want to come. I want it so badly. Make me come, Raith."

His chuckle vibrates between my legs, deep, dark, and absolutely delicious. "Patience," he murmurs, but finally, mercifully, he focuses his attention on the spot that makes stars burst behind my eyelids.

Pressure builds within me, a coiling tension that grows tighter and tighter until it feels like I might shatter. When he slides one finger inside me, then a second, curling them to hit a spot that makes me cry out, it's too much. The tension breaks, release washing over me in a tidal wave of sensation.

I come with his name on my lips, my body arching off the bed as pleasure consumes me. His emotions cascade into mine, his desire amplifying my sensation, intensifying my climax until it seems endless, unbearable in its sweetness.

Before I've fully recovered, he's moving back up my body, his mouth claiming mine in a searing kiss. I can taste myself on his tongue, and it sends a fresh surge of arousal through me despite my recent release.

"I need to feel you," I whisper against his lips, my hands moving to the waistband of his pants. "All of you. Inside me. Filling me. Now. "

He helps me, shoving the fabric down his hips and kicking it away. When he settles back between my thighs, I can feel the hard length of him pressing against me, hot and insistent.

His mouth trails down my neck, and I feel more than hear his words against my skin. "We shouldn't do this."

"Why not?" I ask, already knowing his answer.

He raises his head, eyes burning into mine. "You can't fall for me. It's too fucking dangerous."

"What if it's too late for that?" I whisper.

Something shifts in his expression, a softening that makes my heart clench. He lowers his head, resting his forehead against mine. "What am I going to do with you, Nessa Thorne?"

"Love me," I whisper before I can stop myself. "Like I love you."

His entire body goes still, and for a moment I think I've ruined everything. Then I feel it—a pulse of emotion between us, raw and undeniable. Shock, wonder, and beneath it all, something that mirrors what I feel for him, something he's been desperately trying to deny.

"You can't love me," he says, but there's no conviction in his voice.

"I can feel it, Raith," I tell him, hands sliding into his hair. "You can lie to me with words, but not through the tether." I guide his hand to my chest, placing it over my heart. "What you feel, I feel. You love me too."

He closes his eyes, a tremor running through him. "You don't know what you're asking for," he says, his voice rough. "You don't know who I really am."

"Then tell me," I challenge. "Show me who you are, Raith Hollow. All of you."

For answer, he kisses me again, deep and searching, as if trying to pour everything he can't say into the connection of our bodies. I meet him halfway, giving back just as desperately.

He positions himself at my entrance, his eyes locked with mine, waiting for confirmation. I nod, lifting my hips in silent invitation.

I feel the brief flare of magic again—the trick fires can use to sterilize themselves.

Then he’s pushing into me, inch by exquisite inch, giving me time to adjust to the stretch, to the fullness.

When buried in me all the way, the sensation is even more overwhelming than that first time. I already know the feel of him, the perfect way our bodies fit together, but there's something about this moment—maybe the knowledge that tomorrow could be our last—that makes everything more intense, more significant.

"You feel like you were fucking made for me," he murmurs, his voice strained with the effort of remaining still.

"Move," I urge, my hands sliding down to grip his hips. "Please, Raith."

He begins to thrust, slowly at first, watching my face with fascination and hunger.

"Let go," I urge, wrapping my legs around his waist to draw him deeper. "Just let go, Raith. I can take it. I can take you. All of you,” my words blur into moans as each sentence pushes him farther over the edge. “Fuck me the way you want, Raith. As hard as you want.”

With a groan that sounds almost pained, he surrenders, abandoning that careful control. His movements grow more urgent, more primal, and I match him thrust for thrust, my nails digging into the solid muscle of his back as pleasure builds within me once more, hips rising to meet him as our bodies collide.

I hear my own desperate moans as if they're coming from someone else. It feels like I'm hardly in control anymore, like desire slid its velvety fingers around the controls of my body and has taken me over.

Our connection pulses stronger with our physical intimacy. Magic surges through us both, his fire essence mingling with my unbound power in a dance as ancient as the elements themselves. The candles around the room transform, their flames stretching into ribbons that curl and twist through the air like living things. Clouds gather above us, curling and twisting across the ceiling as a fine mist begins to fall, soaking everything in my room.

Maybe in the morning I'll care, but right now, I don't.

I see and hear steam hissing as the cold water falls on his fire-hot skin.

I can feel his approaching climax mirrored in my own body, his rhythm growing more erratic as he nears the edge. One of his hands slides between us, finding the sensitive bundle of nerves at the apex of my thighs, circling in tight, precise motions that have me gasping.

"Come for me again," he demands, his voice rough with need. "Break apart for me. With me."

His words push me over the edge. I explode beneath him, crying out his name as pleasure radiates outward from my core in waves of mounting intensity. My inner walls clench around him, drawing him deeper, and I feel the moment he follows me into oblivion.

Fire essence rushes through me, hot and wild and exhilarating, as his climax triggers currents of even greater pleasure through my body. His ecstasy becomes mine, mine becomes his, transforming both into something transcendent, a perfect unity of sensation.

The rainclouds conjured by my wild magic thicken and the mist turns to a small downpour, absolutely soaking us, my bed, the sheets, and what little furniture I have in my room. The candle flames sputter in the falling water, spraying magical golden sparks as they extinguish—globes of light that hang suspended in the air for breathtaking seconds before fading to darkness.

As the aftershocks of our pleasure fade, the magic dims and passes, too. Raith collapses beside me, careful not to crush me with his weight. His arms wrap around me, drawing me against his chest as we both struggle to catch our breath. I can feel his heart pounding in time with mine, his skin slick with sweat against my own.

For long moments, we lie in silence, the only sounds our gradually slowing breaths and beating hearts.

His fingers trace idle patterns on my bare shoulder, and I find myself melting into his touch, boneless with satisfaction. "Did we just cause a rainstorm to nearly flood my room?" I ask, a note of wonder in my voice.

He huffs a quiet laugh, the sound vibrating through his chest beneath my ear. "I think we might have," he admits. "Your power is something else."

"It wasn't just me," I point out, my fingertips tracing the lines of muscle across his abdomen. "You're pretty formidable yourself."

"Together, then," he says, and there's something in his voice—a weight, a significance—that makes me lift my head to look at him.

His eyes meet mine in the darkness, golden as a sunrise even in the dim morning light. There's an openness there that I've never seen before, the careful mask he usually wears completely gone.

"Together," I agree softly.

In the aftermath, we lie tangled together, his warmth both drying and heating the soaked blankets and sheets. He keeps me close, one arm curled protectively around my waist. Eventually, I feel his magic flare and the room grows hotter. Steam rises as he magically dries the water on the floor, my bed, and even our bodies. The warm magic feels his him. Like his hands all over my body again, lovingly wiping away every drop of water and making sure I’m perfectly dry.

“Thank you,” I whisper.

"Are you alright?" he asks, brushing the now dry hair from my forehead with gentle fingers.

I smile, stretching languidly beneath him. "More than alright."

He shifts, rolling to his side and drawing me against his chest. For several minutes, we simply exist together in comfortable silence. Content. Safe. Happy.

"When are you going to tell me?" I ask finally, tilting my head to look up at him.

His hand stills. "Tell you what?"

"Who you really are." I prop myself up on one elbow, studying his face in the moonlight. "I know you're not just some random fire affinity prince from some outlying island. That's what I thought at first. But... it doesn't feel right.”

His expression closes off, that careful mask slipping back into place. "Why do you say that?"

"The castle in your memories," I say. "The way you carry yourself. The way the other fire affinities look to you like you're..." I pause, the truth suddenly dawning on me. "Like you're their rightful leader."

He sits up, the blanket pooling around his waist as he runs a hand through his tousled hair. "I can't control how they look at me. None of them know who I am, either. And fuck. If they knew, they'd probably hate me, not bow to me."

I sit up beside him. "No more secrets, Raith. Not between us. We both swore oaths to each other. I swore that your fight was my fight, and I don't even know what that fight is."

He looks at me for a long moment, conflicted emotions battling in his eyes. Finally, he sighs, resignation settling over his features.

"I was born Raith Aurenciel," he says. "Crown Prince of the Red Kingdom."

The revelation hits me like a physical blow.

The Red Kingdom—Empire's greatest rival, the vast nation that has been at war with us for generations. My mind races, trying to reconcile the man I've come to love with this new information.

"That's impossible," I breathe. "The royal family of the Red Kingdom was killed in an accident eleven years ago. There were no..." I trail off, because I already know. Don't I? I saw it happen through his eyes. Through his memories.

There weren't supposed to be any survivors. But...

"I was found half-dead in the rubble, burns covering the left side of my body. A loyal servant of my family was the one who found me. They knew it was an assassination attempt. They knew I'd be killed if my identity ever became known. Within an hour, I was hidden away and sent toward Empire. It was the last place they'd look for me. And the scars helped keep anyone from recognizing me."

"Assassins?" I echo, my mind struggling to keep up.

His laugh is bitter. "The official story is that my sister lost control of her powers, causing an explosion that destroyed the royal wing of the castle. A tragic accident that killed the king, queen, and both heirs to the throne." His jaw tightens. "Leaving my father's cousin, Darian, as the only remaining claimant to the throne."

I feel the sickening picture forming. "You think this Darian arranged for it to happen? For the siphons to kill your family?"

"I know he did," Raith says, his voice hard. "And when I graduate, I'm going to return to Red Kingdom to make sure he regrets it."

My hand rises to cover my mouth. "If anyone discovers you're alive..."

"His claim to the throne would be forfeit," Raith finishes. "And he would stop at nothing to silence me permanently. He's the king of Red Kingdom. He could have an entire contingent of Red Kingdom primals hunting me at a moment's notice. Tens of thousands of armed men and women searching for me. For anyone who dared call themselves an ally or friend. Especially someone I care about. Someone I love, " he adds, eyes heavy on me with significance.

I swallow. I can see now why he was so afraid to let me in. So afraid to let anyone in. He's worried they'll be casualties of his uncle's wrath if he's ever discovered.

"It's okay," I say. "I'm willing to take the risk for you, Raith. I'll fight by your side if they come for you. You have to know I would."

"An exiled prince... Interesting. Let him know I will fight to protect him as well, if needed,” Typhon adds.

"Thank you, Typhon."

Raith's expression darkens. He shakes his head. "You don't understand, Nessa. I'm not just planning to hide and survive, to live my life out in obscurity as a tool for Empire. I'm going to take back what was mine. I'm going to fucking kill 'king' Darian myself. I'm going to retake my throne, whatever it takes."

The words land like stones in my stomach. "You want to become king of Red Kingdom?"

"It's my birthright," he says simply. "And Darian is a tyrant who has brought nothing but suffering to my people."

A chill runs down my spine as I finally understand. The man I've fallen in love with doesn't just want to survive—he wants to become the ruler of Empire's greatest enemy.

"The war," I say, the question I can't not ask. "If you took the throne, would you continue the war with Empire?"

"The war is not what you've been taught, Nessa. The history your scribes record is carefully curated to support Empire's narrative."

"What does that mean?"

"It means I've seen atrocities committed by Empire that rival anything the Red Kingdom has done," he says carefully. "I've seen it from both sides now. Neither is innocent."

"But would you end it?" I press, needing to know.

Before he can answer, the deep toll of a bell cuts through the slowly brightening morning air—a single, solemn note that makes my blood run cold.

The Crucible is beginning. Earlier than planned. Much earlier. It’s the middle of the night, not morning like we were told.

Raith is already moving, gathering his clothes with swift efficiency. "It's starting early," he says, pulling on his pants.

"The sun hasn't even risen," I protest, even as I scramble for my own clothes. "They can't possibly expect?—"

"They can expect whatever they want," he cuts in, his voice hard again, all traces of tenderness gone. "They want us caught off guard. Sleepy. It's all part of the trial."

Our conversation is left hanging as we dress hurriedly in the darkness. I want to ask him more, to finish what we've started, but I know what he'll say. He'll want my mind on the Crucible, not on the complicated mess of whatever just happened between us. Love. Betrayal. Confusion. Conflicting loyalties.

"Raith," I say, catching his arm as he moves toward the door. "Promise me we'll finish talking about this after."

His eyes meet mine, and for a moment, I see the conflict there—the man who loves me warring with the prince who has a kingdom to reclaim.

"Later," he promises, though whether he'll actually tell me the truth remains to be seen. "For now, all that matters is getting you through today alive."

He presses a swift, hard kiss to my lips, then helps me fix a place where I've missed a button on my tunic. The rushed, tender moment threatens to break me as the bell continues to ring, signaling we're all about to fight for our lives in the Crucible.