The following evening descended not with peace but with a strange expectancy. Adrian felt it in the air, a thickness that pressed down on him, as though the walls themselves whispered of what was to come. Servants moved differently, quicker, more silent than usual. The women appeared at supper dressed with an unusual care, their jewels catching firelight, their eyes brighter, keener, watching him more than they watched each other. Something had shifted.
Selene, of course, sat at the head of the long table, her gown a deep crimson that seemed almost alive in the flickering light. Her face was radiant, her smile gentle, but her gaze—always her gaze—pinned Adrian like a hawk pinning prey.
He ate little. Each bite turned to dust in his mouth. He felt Cassia's absence keenly. She had not joined the supper, and though he dared not ask why, his mind tormented him with possibilities. Was she punished? Was she imprisoned somewhere in the labyrinth of this house? Or had Selene kept her away deliberately, knowing that her presence would weaken him?
When the final course was cleared, Selene rose with languid grace. She did not need to raise her voice; the entire room hushed the instant she stood.
"My dears," she said, her tone rich with amusement, "tonight, we play a different game. Tonight, our beloved guest shall prove his devotion."
The words struck Adrian like a blow. Prove. Devotion. Already his body tensed, as though anticipating chains.
Selene's smile deepened. "Adrian, rise."
He obeyed before thinking, his chair scraping against the marble floor. He stood in the glow of countless candles, the center of all eyes. Liora leaned back, her lips curling in the faintest smirk. Althea's expression was unreadable, though her hands clenched lightly in her lap.
Selene circled the table slowly, her gown trailing behind her like blood. When she reached him, she stopped, her hand lifting to rest against his chest. The touch was light, yet it carried the weight of command.
"You came into this house unbidden," she said softly, her eyes never leaving his. "You feasted. You drank. You touched lips that were not yours to touch."
Adrian's breath caught. Had she seen? Had she known?
Selene's lips curved as if savoring his fear. "But every transgression can be washed away. Every sin can be made pure—if the sinner proves his faith."
Her hand slid down his chest, over his arm, until she clasped his hand in hers. She turned to the others.
"Tonight, he will obey. Tonight, he will kneel."
A murmur rippled through the women. Adrian felt the blood drain from his face. His instinct screamed to resist, to step back, to reclaim something of himself—but his body betrayed him, rooted to the spot.
Selene released his hand and moved to the center of the hall, where the floor opened into a circle of marble, the candles burning brighter there. She gestured. "Come."
Every step Adrian took felt like a descent, each footfall echoing like judgment. He entered the circle, the women's eyes surrounding him like a jury.
Selene's voice lowered, intimate yet carrying to all: "Kneel."
The word fell heavy.
Adrian's throat tightened. Images flashed in his mind—Cassia's whispered rebellion, Althea's warning about silence, his own dignity hanging by a thread. If he knelt, he surrendered more than his body. He surrendered his soul.
And yet, if he refused—what would become of him? Of Cassia?
The silence stretched, unbearable.
Selene tilted her head. Her smile never faltered, but her eyes sharpened. "Do not make me repeat myself."
The women leaned forward, breathless, as though savoring the moment of suspense.
Adrian's knees trembled. He closed his eyes. Somewhere in the depths of his mind, he heard Cassia's voice: "She can have your body, Adrian, but she'll never have your soul."
Perhaps. But could he risk her life to preserve pride?
Slowly, with a motion that felt like a blade through his chest, Adrian sank to his knees.
The room exhaled in delight. Liora's laugh rang out, sharp and cruel. Althea's lips pressed into a line, her eyes darting away.
Selene reached out, her fingers slipping under his chin, tilting his face upward. The gesture was tender, almost lover-like, but there was triumph in her smile.
"Good," she murmured. "Very good. See how easy it is? Chains are not necessary when the heart chooses its own."
Adrian's cheeks burned with shame. The marble floor was cold beneath his knees, the circle of candles casting him in an almost sacred glow, as though mocking him with a false sanctity.
Selene stepped behind him, her hand brushing through his hair as if he were a child—or a pet. "Now, one more act of devotion."
The women leaned closer, eager. Adrian's stomach twisted.
Selene's hand pressed lightly against his shoulder. "Confess. Tell us—tell me—whose lips you have kissed in secret."
The hall fell utterly silent.
Adrian's blood turned to ice. His mind screamed in denial. To confess Cassia's name would destroy her. To remain silent might condemn him. Selene's voice was velvet, but velvet draped over steel.
Her breath brushed his ear. "Do not lie. I always know."
He trembled, every muscle screaming for release. His lips parted—but no words came.
Selene's hand tightened slightly in his hair. "Adrian," she whispered, "obedience is salvation. Speak, and you are free."
The women leaned forward, eyes glittering.
At last, Adrian forced words through his throat, but they were not what Selene expected.
"I kissed no one," he said, his voice hoarse but steady.
A sharp silence followed.
Selene stilled. Then she laughed, low and rich, echoing through the chamber. She released his hair, stepping back, her eyes glowing with something unreadable.
"You lie," she said softly, almost fondly. "But oh, how beautifully you lie."
She turned to the women, raising her arms. "See how he resists, even in obedience? See how he burns with shame and yet clings to his secrets? This—this is why he is mine."
The women clapped, laughed, murmured among themselves. Adrian remained on his knees, trembling, every vein in his body filled with humiliation and dread.
Selene leaned down, her lips brushing his ear again. "You will break, Adrian. Slowly, deliciously. And when you do, it will not be me who destroys you—it will be you."
She stepped away, her gown swirling like flame, leaving him kneeling in the circle of light.
Adrian's breath came ragged. He had resisted, yes—but at what cost? He had lied. And Selene had not punished him, not yet. Which meant only one thing.
The real trial was yet to come.