( Nova POV)
The clearing behind the old observatory was supposed to be safe.
It was tucked far from the main paths, hidden by a ring of ancient oaks whose branches interlocked overhead like a cathedral ceiling. Malakai had chosen it for our session today— "No distractions, no eyes, just us and the elements." The four Kings were already there when I arrived: Malakai near the small stream he'd summoned for water work, Lucien leaning against a tree trunk with his arms crossed and silver eyes scanning the treeline, Kieran pacing in slow circles while faint glamour illusions flickered around him like heat haze.
No Damien.
Again.
The bond tugged—dull, aching, a constant reminder of the distance he'd forced between us since the betrothal announcement. I felt him somewhere on the estate grounds, felt the demon raging under his skin, felt his guilt and longing bleeding through the connection. I pushed it down. Focused on the Kings. On breathing. On not falling apart.
