"The court saw a scandal. She saw devotion."

"Lysandra!"

The voice cracked the moment like lightning through glass.

They ripped apart, breath heaving, pupils blown wide.

Felipe.

Standing in the doorway of her bath chamber like fury incarnate.

Behind him—her father. Michelle. Connor.

Her body froze.

But Daniel moved.

He shifted instantly—pulling her against his chest, covering her bare front with his arms, tucking her in like she was a flame he'd kill for. His body blocked theirs from view. All of them.

Felipe's voice was ice. "Leave."

Daniel didn't.

Felipe's eyes narrowed. "I'll be taking the girl."

Daniel's arms locked around her. He turned his head slightly, just enough for his voice to cut through the room like a blade.

"What if I told you we made love already?"

Silence.

Complete. Stunned. Mortal silence.

Lysandra's heart stopped in her chest. Her breath hitched. She could feel the heat of Daniel's skin against hers, the tension vibrating through every muscle of his body.

Felipe's face went pale. Her father's fists clenched. Connor... just stared.

And Daniel?

He didn't blink.

He held her tighter.

Like she was already his.

Felipe's face twisted with fury as he signaled the others to leave.

Connor gave Lysandra one last unreadable look. Michelle didn't even hide her disgust. Both turned and left the bath chamber in silence.

Felipe stayed.

He stepped forward with heavy, deliberate strides, expression carved from rage and bruised pride. His hand lifted—reaching for Lysandra's hair.

To drag her out.

To make a spectacle of her.

But he never touched her.

Because Daniel caught his wrist.

"You're not doing that," Daniel said, low and lethal.

He stepped forward, rising from the water, completely unbothered by his nakedness, his body soaked and glinting under the lanterns. His hand still clamped around Felipe's.

And that's when it happened.

For the first time in weeks—maybe months—his Dirhem burned to life in his chest. Not a flicker. Not a hum.

A roar.

A single, deafening word whispered through every bone in his body:

Kill. Him.

At the same moment—Zayn appeared.

A blur of silver fur and shadow, feline-like but not quite of this world, landing in the room like magic had just stepped in to help him breathe. Unseen to all human eyes, he padded forward silently.

And then—he leapt.

A translucent dome of magic shimmered to life around Lysandra, wrapping her in a protective barrier just as Felipe's hand jerked free.

No one saw Zayn.

No one ever did.

Except one.

Felipe's gaze locked—not on Daniel.

But on the dome.

On the shimmer.

On Zayn—now perched on top of it, tail flicking lazily, unaware he'd just revealed himself.

Daniel didn't notice. His attention was on the king.

But Felipe?

His eyes narrowed. Just for a second.

And then, quietly, he stepped back.

No rage. No words.

Just the cold realization that something had changed.

And that whatever was protecting Lysandra—it didn't belong to this court.

Felipe walked out in silence.

And this time, he didn't order anyone to follow.

Lysandra stood inside the dome, the water still warm around her legs, the heat of Daniel's touch lingering on her skin.

"What just happened?" she asked, voice hushed.

Daniel turned to her, wet hair clinging to his jaw, his hand still trembling faintly from what he almost did.

His eyes didn't leave the door Felipe had just vanished through.

"Get dressed," he said.

His voice was quiet.

But it held steel.

***

The door slammed behind him—but even the echo couldn't shake the thought loose from Felipe's mind.
Adonis's son is alive.

He remembered it clearly. He'd killed Eliza. Killed her child. Aonia had burned under his own magic—ashes, ruin, silence.
So how?
How is the boy still breathing?

Something had gone wrong. Horribly wrong.

And Lysandra falling for him?
That wasn't a coincidence.
That was part of it. A piece in a game far older than her.

He was supposed to be dead.

Now, he was a weapon with a deathwish already flourishing—and Lysandra had chosen him.

Felipe's voice exploded the second they reached the private chamber. "You couldn't even control your daughter long enough for me to breed her?"

Michelle, her father, flinched. He didn't speak.

Felipe turned on him, voice slicing now.
"I wanted a child from her. That's all. I was willing to marry her—for your dignity. To protect your name. Your station. I could've used her like any court whore and tossed her aside."

He stalked toward the hearth, pacing like a caged animal. "But I didn't. I gave her my name. My future. And you—" he spat the word at Michelle "—you couldn't even keep her legs shut in front of a guard dog."

Michelle's jaw tensed. Still silent.

Felipe turned now—toward Melissa, Lysandra's mother.

His voice dropped, quiet and venomous.
"Did you teach her that? Hm? To whore herself out for a bit of attention? Did you do the same in your youth?"

Melissa lowered her gaze.

Felipe stepped closer. Tilted her chin up with two fingers. "You gave birth to an heir like her. I'm sure you can give me another."

Melissa didn't blink.

Her voice was soft. Numb.
"I would be honored, Your Highness."

And that's when it happened.

Not aloud. Not dramatic.

Just a crack inside Michelle.

Something quiet. Final.

Because his wife hadn't even looked at him when she said it. Hadn't asked. Hadn't hesitated. As if it was already decided.

And the worst part?

He knew he would have agreed.

Because somewhere along the line, they'd all learned the same thing:
Felipe doesn't ask. He takes.

Michelle's voice followed her as she turned toward the door. "Where are you going?"

Melissa paused, hand on the polished handle. Her posture perfect, spine straight, not a hair out of place. She didn't look back when she answered.

"To prepare myself, of course. If I am to be bred like livestock, I might as well dress the part."

Her tone was smooth. Elegant. Brutal.

She opened the door, paused just enough to glance over her shoulder.

"Don't look so surprised, Your Highness. You offered up our daughter like a gift basket. You only resent it now because someone else opened it first."

Then she was gone.

And the silence left behind was heavier than any scream.