The party's echoes had long since died. Wine-stained goblets still glimmered like discarded promises, the scent of roses and perfume heavy in the midnight air. Adrian wandered the halls, his steps unsteady not from drink but from the dissonance tearing at his chest.
Desire still clung to him like an invisible garment, soaked into his skin, impossible to remove. Selene's gaze haunted him—the way she had touched his shoulder before vanishing into the crowd, leaving him parched with longing and burning with suspicion.
And yet, it was not Selene who pulled him forward now. It was the faintest rustle behind the velvet curtains of the hall.
"Adrian."
The whisper came low, urgent, as though it feared the walls themselves might betray it. He froze, his breath catching. The voice was soft but sharp, like glass wrapped in silk. Slowly, carefully, he pulled back the curtain.
There she stood—Cassia, her gown the color of midnight, her eyes smoldering with something between sorrow and defiance.
"You shouldn't be here," Adrian said, though his tone lacked conviction. He knew he was the intruder, the moth circling the flame.
"Neither should you," Cassia replied. "But here we are."
Her words fell heavy, and the silence after was unbearable. Adrian's pulse raced. He remembered the last time—her hand brushing his in the garden, the way her lips had parted as though on the verge of confession. That moment had been stolen by Selene's sudden appearance.
Now, under the secrecy of velvet and shadow, nothing stopped her.
"You think Selene controls everything," Cassia whispered, her hand brushing against his chest. "But she doesn't. Not entirely. There are corners of this house she cannot touch, desires she cannot extinguish."
Adrian shuddered. Her touch was fire, but her words—her words carried danger. He felt them like sparks near dry parchment.
"Cassia," he murmured, "if she knew—"
"She already knows," Cassia interrupted, her voice tightening. "She always knows. But sometimes, knowledge isn't power. Sometimes it's… weakness."
Her lips hovered near his ear, and Adrian felt the world narrow to the heat of her breath, the trembling of his own restraint. He wanted to pull away, to resist—but the pull was unbearable.
"Why me?" he asked, desperate, his voice breaking. "Why are you here?"
Cassia's eyes glistened. "Because you look at me like I'm more than a shadow in her game."
It was too much. His lips found hers—not with the practiced seduction Selene had taught him, but with a raw, trembling hunger that tasted of rebellion. Cassia clung to him, her nails pressing faint crescents into his back, as though afraid he might dissolve into the shadows.
The kiss deepened, but with it came the echo of dread. Adrian's thoughts fractured. He saw Selene's cold smile, Liora's piercing gaze, Althea's quiet warnings. Every woman in the estate carried a different hunger, but none felt as forbidden as this.
When at last they parted, gasping, Cassia pressed her forehead to his. "This isn't about lust anymore, Adrian. It's about survival. She won't forgive me. She won't forgive you. But together…"
Her words trailed off, unfinished, trembling.
Together. The word struck him harder than any caress.
For the first time, he realized this wasn't only a dance of pleasure. It was a battlefield—silent, perfumed, veiled by kisses and promises, but a battlefield nonetheless.
"Cassia," he whispered, "what do you want from me?"
Her smile was sorrowful. "I want to be seen. I want to be chosen. Even if it costs me everything."
The curtain shifted suddenly. Adrian's heart leapt. But no one entered. Only a draft of wind, teasing, mocking.
Still, the illusion of exposure lingered. They pulled apart instinctively, though the fire between them remained unquenched.
Cassia's parting words were a dagger she left buried in him:
"She can have your body, Adrian. But she'll never have your soul. Unless you give it to her."
And then she was gone, slipping into the labyrinthine corridors, leaving Adrian trembling, torn, and utterly awake.
The silence that followed was unbearable. He pressed his palms to his face, his heart hammering. He thought of Selene, of the power she wielded with every smile. He thought of Cassia, desperate, radiant in her defiance.
Desire was no longer simple. It was no longer a game. It was war.
And Adrian, foolish or brave, had just chosen a side.