Cassian's POV
I couldn't get her out of my head.
Three days since the Archives. Three days since I'd stood close enough to touch Lyanna Thorne and felt my dragon wake up for the first time in years. Three days of my father pushing Lady Seraphine in my face at every meal, every meeting, every gods-damned moment.
"You're not listening again."
Seraphine's cold words cut through my thoughts. I looked across the state dinner table where she sat beside my father, beautiful and perfect and absolutely wrong. Her midnight-black hair gleamed in the candlelight. Her violet eyes watched me like a snake watching a mouse.
"I'm listening," I lied.
"Then what did I just say?"
I had no idea. I'd been thinking about green eyes and the way Lyanna's pulse had jumped when I got close. The way she'd smelled like old books and something else—something wild and strange that made my dragon claw at my insides, demanding more.
"You were discussing the trade agreements," I guessed.
Seraphine's smile was sharp as broken glass. "I was talking our wedding date. Your father suggested next month."
My wine glass broke in my hand.
Everyone at the long table went silent. Blood dripped from my hand onto the white tablecloth, spreading like red flowers. I didn't feel the pain. Couldn't feel anything except the trapped-animal fear rising in my throat.
"Next month seems rushed," I said carefully.
"The Continental Alliance wants this marriage finalized." My father's voice boomed from the head of the table. "Every day we delay makes us look weak. You'll marry Lady Seraphine in four weeks, and that's final."
Four weeks.
My dragon screamed inside my chest. Wrong. Wrong. WRONG.
But I was a prince before I was a man. Duty before pleasure. The kingdom before my own wants. I'd learned that lesson young, had it beaten into me through training and custom and expectations I couldn't escape.
"As you wish, Father." The words tasted like poison.
Seraphine's smile widened. She'd won and she knew it.
I excused myself before dessert, ignoring my father's disapproving look. I needed air. Needed space. Needed to shift into dragon form and fly until this smothering feeling went away.
Instead, I found myself going toward the Royal Archives.
It was stupid. Reckless. I had a state dinner to finish, a betrothal to pretend to care about, a country watching my every move. I shouldn't be running after a hybrid translator who'd looked at me like I was dangerous.
She was right to look at me that way. I was scary.
But my feet kept going, and my dragon kept pushing forward, hungry for something I didn't understand.
The Archives were dark. Closed for the night like they should be. I should have left.
I picked the lock instead.
The smell hit me the moment I stepped inside—old paper and leather and that strange scent that belonged to Lyanna alone. My dragon surged forward, stronger than it had been in years. Since when did a woman's smell affect me like this?
I'd bedded dozens of women. Beautiful women, strong women, women who knew exactly what they wanted and took it. I never kept them past morning. Never learned their favorite foods or what made them laugh. Connection meant vulnerability, and vulnerability meant weakness.
So why couldn't I stop thinking about the way Lyanna had pushed me? The way she'd told a prince to leave, ordered me around like I was nobody special?
I moved through the Archives like a ghost, following that smell deeper into the stacks. Past history. Past poetry. All the way to the forbidden area where the oldest, most dangerous texts lived.
That's where I found her.
Lyanna sat cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by a circle of open papers. Candles floated above her head—magic she shouldn't have if she was fully human. Her dark hair fell around her face as she bent over an ancient text, fully focused.
She was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen.
"You're trespassing, Your Highness." She didn't look up. "This section is restricted."
"So is breaking into the Archives after hours," I pointed out. "Yet here we both are."
"I have permission. You don't."
"I'm the Crown Prince. I don't need permission."
"How nice for you." Finally, she looked up. Those green eyes hit me like a physical blow. "Did you enjoy your dinner with your future wife?"
The jealousy in her voice made my dragon purr with satisfaction. She cared. She tried not to, but she cared.
"It was torture," I admitted before I could stop myself. "Every second sitting next to her felt like dying slowly."
Lyanna's face softened for just a moment. Then she looked away. "That's not my problem."
"Isn't it?" I moved closer, drawn like metal to a magnet. "You're the one I can't stop thinking about. You're the one who makes my dragon feel alive for the first time in years."
"Stop." She stood up quickly, backing away. "Just stop. You're getting married in four weeks. Whatever game you're playing, I won't be part of it."
"This isn't a game." I reached for her hand. She yanked it away, but not before I saw something that made my blood freeze.
A mark on her wrist.
Gold runes that glowed dimly in the candlelight. The same marks I'd seen in the prophecy she'd read three nights ago.
"What is that?" I grabbed her wrist before she could hide it.
"Nothing. Let go."
"That's a soul mark." Impossible. Soul marks were myths. But the proof was right there on her skin, burning brighter the longer I touched her. "How do you have a soul mark?"
"I don't know!" She jerked free, tears shining in her eyes. "It appeared after you left. After the forecast changed and showed my name. I've been studying for three days trying to understand what it means."
Cold fear washed through me. "What did the prophecy say exactly?"
"That I'm the marked one. That fire has taken me." Her voice broke. "That shadow will hunt me."
Shadow. Seraphine was Shadow Kingdom royalty.
My dragon roared a warning inside my mind. Danger. Protect. MINE.
"You need to leave the palace," I said quickly. "Tonight. Right now."
"What? Why?"
"Because if Seraphine finds out about that mark, about the prophecy—" I couldn't finish. Couldn't say out loud what my future wife would do to eliminate a threat.
The candles suddenly went out.
All of them, in the same time.
Darkness swallowed the Archives. But worse than darkness was the cold that came with it—unnatural, magical cold that froze the air in my lungs.
Lyanna grabbed my arm. I felt her shaking.
"Cassian," she whispered. "Someone else is here."
I shifted partially, letting my dragon vision pierce the darkness. What I saw made my heart stop.
Shadow creatures surrounded us. Dozens of them, made of living darkness with eyes like purple fire.
Seraphine's power.
She knew.
And from somewhere in the darkness, I heard her voice, sweet as poisoned honey: "Did you really think you could hide her from me, my darling prince? The prophet has chosen. Now I'll make sure she never lives to fulfill it."