"My Lord, with all due respect," Caspian whispered, massaging his right shoulder as they hurried down the servant's corridor, "if I have to drop the 'Flora and Fauna of the Southern Isles' one more time, the binding will disintegrate. And so will my nerves."
Aeron walked ahead of him, buttoning his cuffs with a calm, rhythmic precision that was frankly insulting to Caspian's panic.
"It was effective, Caspian," Aeron said, his voice laced with a dark, satisfied hum that hadn't been there an hour ago. "Captain Thorne didn't even look at the library door. He was too busy inspecting the structural damage to the floorboards."
"I think I woke up a gargoyle," Caspian muttered, clutching his chest. "I certainly woke up my own ulcer."
Aeron stopped at the door to his private chambers. He turned, the torchlight catching the sharp planes of his face. He didn't look like the Saint of Arindale. He looked like a man who had just conquered a kingdom and was already planning how to burn it down for sport.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a length of damp, blue silk ribbon.
He wound it around his fingers, bringing it to his nose to inhale deeply.
"Go to bed, Caspian," Aeron said softly, his pupils blown wide. "We have a long day tomorrow. The Empress will want to see if her 'matchmaking' is working."
Caspian stared at the ribbon. He knew exactly where that ribbon had been. He knew exactly why the Prince looked so wrecked and so alive.
"I hate this palace," Caspian whispered to the stone walls. "I really, really hate this palace."
Morning in the Taryn suite was usually a silent affair, mostly because Victoria believed that speaking before tea was vulgar.
Today, however, the silence was thick enough to choke on.
Kaia sat at the vanity, staring at her reflection. Her lips were swollen from the rough friction of the silk ribbon Aeron had tied between her teeth.
She felt... electric.
She could still feel the phantom pressure of the gag against her tongue, forcing her mouth open, and the invasive, devastating slide of his fingers against her.
She closed her eyes, a shiver racking her body. He hadn't just touched her; he had dismantled her. He had made her cum so hard she had almost blacked out, all while forcing her to stay silent. The memory of his gloved hand pinning her hips to the ladder while he worked her open made her core clench with a fresh, wet heat.
"You are humming," Victoria said from across the room.
Kaia froze. "Am I?"
"Yes. It is annoying. Stop it." Victoria stood up, her silver hair pulled back so tightly it must have been painful. She walked over to Kaia and placed a hand on her shoulder.
It wasn't a comforting touch. It was an inspection.
"You look different," Victoria observed, her eyes narrowing. "Your skin is... flushed. Did you sleep with the window open again? I told you, the night air breeds hysteria."
"I slept perfectly fine, Victoria," Kaia lied, meeting her sister's gaze. "Perhaps I am just excited about the... cultural enrichment of the court."
Victoria scoffed. "Cultural enrichment. Please. Just try not to embarrass us at breakfast."
The breakfast room was bathed in aggressive morning sunlight. The table was laden with pastries, fruits, and silver pots of coffee, but the tension in the room was heavier than the food.
Aeron sat at the table, reading a state paper. He was back in his armor—stiff collar, velvet coat, white gloves. He looked cool, distant, and utterly untouchable.
Until Kaia walked in.
He didn't look up. He didn't smile. But his hand, which had been turning a page, paused mid-air.
"Good morning, Lady Victoria. Lady Kaia," he said, his voice smooth as glass.
"Your Highness," they chorused.
Kaia took her seat across from him. She reached for a croissant, her hand trembling slightly.
Aeron lowered the paper. His silver eyes locked onto hers.
For a split second, the "Saint" vanished. His gaze dropped to her mouth, lingering there. Then it slid lower, to her lap, concealed beneath the table. He smirked—a dark, knowing curve of his lips that brought the phantom sensation of the silk ribbon rushing back to her mouth.
He winked.
It was so fast, so subtle, that if she had blinked, she would have missed it.
Kaia nearly dropped her croissant into her coffee.
"And how did everyone sleep?" the Empress boomed, sweeping into the room in a cloud of jasmine perfume. "Did we dream of weddings? Of heirs? Of eternal bliss?"
"I dreamt I was being chased by a badger," Beckett offered helpfully from his seat.
The Empress ignored him. "I have wonderful news! The poetry was spirited. The portrait session was... illuminating. But today, we need something that tests your trust! Your unity!"
She clapped her hands.
"Today is the third Love Task: The Lake of Lovers!"
Aeron slowly set his coffee cup down. "The what?"
"A boat ride!" The Empress beamed. "The Royal Lake is perfectly calm. Each gentleman shall row his intended to the Island of Vows in the center of the lake. It is a journey of two! Just the couple, the water, and the silence. No guards. No chaperones. Just... connection."
Kaia felt a cold pit open in her stomach. "No chaperones?"
"Isolation fosters intimacy!" the Empress declared. "Prince Beckett, you shall row Lady Kaia. Imagine it... floating in the middle of the water, with no one to disturb you."
A sound echoed through the room.
SNAP.
It was the sound of a silver spoon breaking cleanly in half.
Everyone turned to look at Aeron.
He was holding the two pieces of his spoon, his face a mask of polite confusion. But his knuckles were white beneath his silk gloves, the veins in his hand standing out starkly.
"My apologies," Aeron said, his voice flat, devoid of any emotion but vibrating with a terrifying, subterranean rage. "The silver appears to be... brittle this morning."
He looked at Beckett.
He looked at Kaia.
The thought of them alone—trapped on a small boat, floating in the middle of a lake where he couldn't see them, couldn't hear them, couldn't stop them—was melting his composure like wax in a fire.
"A boat ride," Aeron repeated, his gaze sliding to his brother's hands. "How... charming."
"Isn't it?" The Empress sighed. "Caspian! Fetch the Prince a new spoon. And perhaps a sedative. He looks quite intense today."
Caspian, who was standing by the sideboard looking like he hadn't slept in a week, let out a small, whimpering sound.
"Right away, Your Majesty," Caspian whispered, eyeing the broken silver with dread. "A new spoon. And perhaps a prayer for us all."