CHAPTER 180: DON’T FALL FOR ME

Rowan paused. "You don’t even know where we’re going."

"I know enough. You said it before...this Oracle, she can unlock what was sealed in me. If I don’t remember what’s inside that tapestry, we’re wasting time."

Lucien finally looked at her. "The path through the Whispering Pines is treacherous. You could freeze. You could drown. You could be torn apart by things even I wouldn’t name out loud."

She met his stare. "And staying here means waiting for death at our doorstep. So choose."

For a heartbeat, silence.

Then Lucien exhaled, a slow, resigned breath. "We leave at dusk."

Rowan arched a brow. "That fast?"

Lucien nodded. "We don’t have time for ceremony. Pack light. Only what we can carry."

Rowan clicked his tongue. "This is madness." Lucien smirked. "Good. Madness is harder to predict."

Later That Evening, In the Attic Chambers

Liora knelt before the half-open trunk of travel gear. A worn cloak. A water flask. A blade not beautiful, but balanced. As she reached for the sheath, something shifted in the pile.

A bundle of fabric, softer than the rest. She unfolded it slowly.

Her mother’s scarf. Pale green, embroidered with silver thread...half-faded now, but unmistakably hers.

Lucien’s voice drifted from the doorway. "Rowan found it with your things. Thought you’d want it."

Liora didn’t turn. "Did you know her?"

A pause. Then, "Only by reputation. She was said to be gentle. Dangerous, when needed. Just like you."

She touched the scarf to her lips. "She died running from the court. From people like your father."

Lucien leaned against the doorframe. "And now her daughter’s walking back toward it. Fate has a cruel sense of humor."

Liora stood. "It’s not fate. It’s choice."

He tilted his head. "Then you choose to trust me?"

She stepped closer. "I don’t trust you, Lucien. But I trust that you hate the Dowager more than you’d ever hurt me."

Lucien let out a breath that might’ve been a laugh. "Close enough."

He turned to go, but her voice stopped him.

"If I remember who I am... if I turn out to be what they all fear..."

Lucien looked over his shoulder, expression unreadable.

"Then I’ll protect you from that too," he said. "Even if it means stopping you."

And with that, he was gone.

At the Palace, Deep Within the Queen Dowager’s Chambers

The Queen Dowager’s fingers curled around a crystal vial, the liquid within glowing a sickly green.

A servant knelt at her feet, trembling. "They’ve left the manor, my lady. Traveling light. Headed north."

"Let them run," she murmured, eyes locked on the flame. "The woods will eat them. Or worse."

She turned to the cloaked figure standing beside her.

"Send word to the Huntsman. Tell him the Aerenya girl moves toward the Oracle."

"And the Blackthorne bastard?"

A slow smile curled on her lips. "Let him follow. His ruin will come by her hand... or by mine."

The silence between them thickened like fog as Zavian stepped closer, his presence dominating the narrow space. His fingers brushed against her wrist, not forcefully, but enough to make her breath hitch. "You haven’t touched your food," he murmured, voice low and rough, edged with something unreadable.

Selene’s throat tightened. "I wasn’t hungry." Her voice betrayed her, too soft, too uncertain. He didn’t answer, only tilted his head slightly, studying her like she was an enigma he hadn’t yet solved. Then, almost absentmindedly, he reached past her for the jug of water, his arm grazing her side. She froze. Her body betrayed her with every tiny shiver, every held breath.

"I read your note," he said after a pause, pouring the water into a glass. "It was bold of you to write that... and foolish." He offered her the glass, and she took it, fingers brushing his, the touch sending an unwanted jolt through her. "Do you want me dead that badly, wife?"

The word lingered in the air, wife,as though he were testing its taste. Selene swallowed, her eyes meeting his, defiant even as she burned under his gaze. "You think you scare me?"

Zavian’s smile was brief, a flash of teeth and danger. "No. I think I confuse you." He leaned down, voice dropping further. "I think that’s worse."

She opened her mouth, but no words came. He was too close now, the heat of his body wrapping around her like a net. His hand reached for a loose strand of her hair, curling it thoughtfully around his finger. "Don’t fall for me, Selene," he whispered. "I don’t come with promises."

"And yet," she said, heart thudding, "you act like you’ve already claimed me."

His eyes darkened. "You were sold to me. What I do with you is entirely my call."

There was a pause, a long, burning silence where the only sound was her breathing, ragged and uneven. But she didn’t back down. Her voice was steady when she said, "Then make your call. Stop dancing around it."

Zavian’s lips twitched. "You’re either reckless... or tempting fate."

His hand slipped to her lower back, pulling her flush against him. Their eyes locked, the tension an alive wire snapping between them. She should’ve pushed him away. She didn’t. And when he leaned down, lips brushing hers without commitment, it was maddeningly delicate, like he was testing her again. And like a fool, she answered with a kiss that wasn’t chaste or careful but wild, aching, and and full of everything they wouldn’t admit.

When he finally pulled back, his voice was rough. "Careful, Selene. I bite back."

And just like that, he turned, leaving her breathless in the cold room with a heart that refused to calm.

The door shut behind him with a soft click, but the echo of Zavian’s presence clung to the room like smoke. Selene stood there, lips tingling, mind racing, trying to steady the wild storm inside her chest. She had kissed him. Or had he kissed her first? It didn’t matter. She had responded. Worse, she had wanted it.

Her fingers curled into fists. Damn him.

Pacing to the window, Selene stared into the courtyard. Lanterns flickered across the stone paths, casting gold and crimson shadows that looked like blood and fire. It suited this place, this prison of twisted games and unspoken war. Every time she thought she had found a crack in Zavian’s armor, he exposed one in hers instead.

Don’t fall for me, he had said.

Too late.

But falling didn’t mean surrender.

A soft knock on the door pulled her back to reality. Edgar entered quietly, bowing with the same old precision. "My lady, Lord Zavian asked me to escort you to the east wing. The council has sent a message, and he wants you present."

Her brows furrowed. "Council? Why would he want me there?"

"I don’t question his orders, my lady," Edgar replied with a practiced smile. "Only carry them out."

Selene followed, her mind spinning. Zavian had always been cagey about his dealings with the inner court. For him to involve her now, especially after that kiss, meant something had shifted. Was this trust? Or manipulation?

They walked through narrow corridors and archways bathed in cool torchlight until they reached a towering set of ebony doors. Inside, a long table stretched across the room, flanked by three men in formal robes and one veiled woman whose presence felt oddly regal.

Zavian stood at the head of the table, arms crossed. He looked up as she entered, eyes unreadable. "Sit."

Not please. Just sit. She obeyed.

"This," he said, addressing the others, "is Selene. My wife, and the one who intercepted the poison meant for me."

Gasps rippled. Selene’s heart pounded.

The veiled woman leaned forward. "You’re the girl who wrote the warning note?"

Selene nodded cautiously.

Zavian’s jaw tightened. "From now on, any decisions regarding the household or its security will involve her." He turned slightly, eyes flicking to hers. "She is no longer just a concubine."

Shock hit her like a slap. She didn’t even notice her lips parting in disbelief.

One of the councilmen frowned. "You’re elevating her? So soon?"

"I make my own decisions," Zavian said coldly. "And I stand by them."

Selene’s throat dried. This was dangerous. This was power and a hundred new enemies cloaked in polite smiles.

When the meeting ended, Zavian brushed past her and whispered, "Now they’ll watch you. Be careful what you do with their attention."

She caught his wrist, bold and defiant. "Why did you do that?"

He looked down at her hand, then up at her face. "Because if you’re going to burn, you might as well learn how to set fire to others first."

The door shut behind him with a soft click, but the echo of Zavian’s presence clung to the room like smoke. Selene stood there, lips tingling, mind racing, trying to steady the wild storm inside her chest. She had kissed him. Or had he kissed her first? It didn’t matter. She had responded. Worse...she had wanted it.

Her fingers curled into fists. Damn him.