Two nights.
That was all the time I had to hold my smile together, to keep my heartbeat calm under Lucien's gaze, to let him believe the performance he'd scripted for me was still his masterpiece.
But two nights was also enough for Kael. I could feel it—like the faint vibration of a storm building just beyond the horizon. He was here, somewhere in the city, somewhere close enough to cast a shadow in my thoughts.
The guests glittered under the chandeliers, wine and laughter spilling between them. My dress clung to me like another kind of cage—gold silk and embroidery so delicate I felt like I might tear it just breathing too hard. Lucien's hand was warm on the small of my back as he steered me toward yet another couple I didn't know.
I played my part. My lips curved, my eyes softened, and my voice carried just enough sweetness to make me seem harmless. It was exhausting, this pretending to be tamed. But every smile was a lie, every laugh was another brick in the wall I was building to trap him in his own theatre.
When Lucien excused himself to speak with a man in a grey suit near the bar, I let my gaze drift. That's when I saw it—barely a flicker at the edge of the crowd. A figure by the far column, dressed like one of the wait staff, head bowed as if in thought. But the angle of his jaw, the way his shoulders carried tension like a loaded weapon—
Kael.
He didn't look at me. Not directly. But his hand brushed the edge of the tray he carried, and in that moment I saw it—just a sliver of folded parchment, half-hidden under a linen napkin. My pulse thudded in my throat.
I took a step toward him, but before I could get close, a familiar voice coiled around me.
"Wandering off, little dove?"
Lucien.
I turned, slow, forcing my breath steady. "Just looking for champagne."
He tilted his head, that amused cruelty in his eyes. "Then let me get it for you. Wouldn't want you getting lost in my own home."
I felt Kael's presence vanish behind me. I let Lucien lead me away, hating the way he could erase Kael from my line of sight so effortlessly. But my fingers itched, desperate for the parchment I hadn't reached.
The rest of the evening dragged like a blade across stone. Lucien paraded me from guest to guest, his arm a tether that felt like iron. My cheeks ached from smiling, my throat from speaking polite lies. And all the while, my mind raced—not with fear, but with the fragments of a plan I didn't yet have the shape of.
By the time the last guest departed and the music faded, I was a coil of exhaustion. Lucien kissed my temple before heading to his study, the gesture deceptively tender.
"Sleep well, Zaria," he murmured. "You'll need your strength."
For what, he didn't say. But I knew enough to feel the warning in it.
When I was sure the halls were empty, I slipped from my room. My bare feet made no sound on the marble as I retraced my path to the ballroom. The staff had begun cleaning, sweeping glittering fragments of glass from the floor.
Kael was gone.
But the tray was still there—propped against the far wall. And under the napkin, exactly where I'd seen it, was the folded parchment. My hands shook as I opened it.
Two words, written in Kael's sharp, hurried script:
Midnight. Garden.
I pressed the note to my chest, my mind already racing. Midnight was only twenty minutes away.
I made it to the garden without being seen. The air outside was cool, heavy with the scent of rain and night-blooming jasmine. Lanterns glowed along the stone paths, their light soft enough to hide in.
And there he was. Kael.
He stepped from the shadows, his eyes locking on mine. For a moment, the whole world narrowed to the space between us. No chains. No Lucien. Just us.
"You've got less time than I hoped," he whispered, glancing toward the estate. "There's movement at the docks. Lucien's planning something big—something that's going to seal you here if we don't act."
I wanted to ask a hundred questions, but the urgency in his voice silenced me. "What do we do?" I asked instead.
He pulled something from his jacket—a small metal key, rough and old. "This opens a door in the west wing cellar. Leads to the old tunnels. But you can't go now. Too many eyes. We move tomorrow night."
Tomorrow night. My stomach tightened. "Lucien—he's suspicious. I don't think I can keep him—"
Kael's hand caught mine, firm and grounding. "You can. You've been surviving in the lion's den this long, Zaria. One more day."
I wanted to believe him.
We didn't hear the footsteps until they were close.
Kael's head snapped up, eyes narrowing. "Go," he hissed, shoving the key into my palm. "Now."
I turned, heart hammering, and slipped into the shadows just as Lucien's voice cut through the night.
"Zaria?"
It was calm. Too calm.
I forced myself to keep walking, pretending I'd been wandering the garden alone. When I faced him, he stood at the path's end, his silhouette framed in lantern light, hands in his pockets.
"You're awake late," he said softly.
I smiled faintly. "Couldn't sleep."
His gaze lingered on me, unreadable. Then he stepped aside, gesturing toward the house. "Come back inside. The night air will chill you."
I obeyed. Because for now, I still had a role to play.
But as I walked past him, the key dug into my palm, and I knew this stage was almost ready to burn.