Kael didn't sleep.
Not after that.
He paced his chambers like a caged predator, the memory of her mouth, her voice, her power crackling behind his ribs like live flame.
She had dismissed him.
Played him.
Denied him—in front of Rhydian.
Worse, she'd enjoyed it.
He could still taste the curve of her lips on his. The way her breath had hitched when his hand slid into her hair. She wanted him. That much was clear.
But she was punishing him.
Testing him.
She didn't want a man who bowed.
She wanted one who could break the world—then kneel only for her.
And Kael had just failed her game.
He smashed his fist into the stone wall, leaving a deep crack. Blood dripped from his knuckles.
No more waiting.
---
At dawn, the palace was called to assembly for the Second Luna Trial—a challenge not of seduction, but of loyalty.
Seraphina appeared in ceremonial white, long sleeves, high collar—but sheer silk beneath that glowed with every step. Her hair was braided with moon-thorns, a symbol of divine judgment.
She stood at the top of the ceremonial stairs, with Kael to her right and Rhydian to her left.
But she barely looked at them.
Her gaze swept the crowd of ranked alphas below.
Dozens had returned. Fewer than before. Some bore marks of trials already passed—wounds, scars, pride. But one man stood out.
He was tall, lean, with eyes like silver ice and a scar down one cheek. His clothes were black, his stance relaxed, confident—yet not arrogant.
Alpha Theron of Blackreach.
Unclaimed. Unaligned.
A rogue king in all but name.
He stepped forward when the bell rang.
"I request the trial of truth," Theron said, bowing slightly—but never looking down.
Gasps rippled through the gathering.
Seraphina raised a brow. "You'd take the truth in front of all these men?"
"I have nothing to fear," he said smoothly. "Except lying to you."
Kael's jaw flexed.
Rhydian crossed his arms, his body tense.
Seraphina descended one step. Her voice soft, but sharp. "Truth strips you bare, Alpha. It's not seduction. It's surrender."
"I know," Theron replied. "That's why I'm here."
She studied him.
Then lifted her hand.
The priestess brought forth the Truth Flame, a silver fire bowl that reflected only truth. Lies scorched the tongue. Falsehoods blistered the skin.
Theron approached. Placed his hand above the flame.
Seraphina asked:
"Why do you want me?"
His voice didn't tremble.
"Because I've seen the world without you in it," he said. "And it's broken. I want to be part of building the world your bloodline is meant to rule."
The flame flickered—steady.
No burn.
No pain.
Truth.
A low hum of murmurs spread.
Kael narrowed his eyes.
Rhydian's lips parted slightly.
Seraphina stepped forward until she was only a breath away from Theron.
"And if I choose one of them?" she asked quietly.
Theron met her gaze. "Then I'll serve you anyway."
Silence.
Even the wind stilled.
Then—
Seraphina turned, silk brushing his chest.
"You may stay for the final trials," she said.
Theron bowed again, lower this time.
As he turned, Seraphina caught a flicker of movement from her right.
Kael's hands had curled into fists.
And for the first time, his control wavered.
He'd tolerated Rhydian.
But a third?
Unacceptable.
She didn't look at him.
But she felt the storm rising in his chest.
She smiled faintly to herself.
> Let them burn.
She was the flame.
And she would decide who survived the fire.
---
She felt him before he spoke.
The heat. The rage. The raw, churning dominance that clung to him like a second skin.
Kael.
He was waiting in her private bathing chamber—uninvited.
He stood with his back to her, one hand braced against the marble pillar, the other clenched at his side. His black shirt was discarded on the floor, muscles bare, glistening faintly with the sweat of a man too angry to breathe.
"You let him touch you."
His voice was deep. Controlled.
Barely.
Seraphina closed the door behind her with a soft click. "Who?"
"Theron."
She didn't respond.
Instead, she walked toward the vanity table, slowly unpinning her moon-thorn braid, each silver piece clinking into a crystal bowl.
"I asked you a question," he said, turning to face her now.
His eyes were molten gold. His chest rose and fell with sharp breaths. He looked like a god stripped of patience.
Seraphina met his gaze in the mirror.
"I didn't stop him," she said coolly. "That's not the same as letting."
Kael took a step toward her.
She didn't flinch.
"Is this another test?" he asked, voice low. "To see which one of us snaps first?"
"Maybe."
He moved closer.
"You want us to fight over you?"
"No," she said, turning to face him fully now, her silk gown loose over one shoulder. "I want to see if either of you are worthy of the war I bring."
That stopped him.
Kael's throat worked once.
Then he reached out, grabbing her wrist—not hard, but firm. His voice lowered, roughened by something deeper than anger.
"I would burn the world for you, Seraphina."
She arched a brow. "Then burn it."
He stepped forward again.
Close. Too close.
Their bodies nearly touched, but she didn't step back. His fingers loosened around her wrist, sliding down her arm to her waist, then her hip.
"I don't share," Kael whispered.
"You're not in control of this," she replied. "I am."
Her words landed like ice, but it only made him breathe harder, deeper. He wanted to kiss her. Ravage her. Prove she belonged to no one but him.
But he didn't move.
She had told him once: Restraint is strength.
And still, every cell in his body screamed.
"I can't stand the thought of him touching you," he said finally.
"Then prove you're the one I'll choose," she whispered. "Not with fists. Not with rage. But with the kind of power that doesn't need to be loud."
Kael stared at her.
And for once—he didn't try to dominate.
He submitted to the moment, to the flame between them, to the woman who could shatter him with a smile.
He stepped back.
"Then I'll show you," he said, voice barely above a growl. "I'll make you crave only me."
And with that—he left.
Not defeated.
But determined.
And Seraphina…?
She touched her wrist where he held her.
And smiled.