Cassia's POV
"Walk," Theron commands, turning his back to me like he knows I won't dare run.
He's right. I won't. But not because I'm afraid—okay, I'm terrified—but because I need answers.
I follow him out of the dungeon, my chains clinking with every step. The guards don't stop us. They don't even look at us. They just press themselves against the walls like they're trying to disappear.
Theron leads me through corridors I don't recognize. The palace looks different now—darker, colder. Like his presence has drained all the warmth from it. We pass soldiers in black armor who bow deeply as he walks by.
Finally, we reach a door guarded by two massive men. They open it without being asked.
Inside is a room filled with maps and books. A fireplace burns in the corner, but it doesn't seem to make the room any warmer. Theron gestures to a chair.
"Sit."
I don't move. "You said someone tried to kill me. What did you mean?"
"Sit first. Talk after."
We stare at each other. I can see he's not used to being disobeyed. Part of me wants to sit just to avoid whatever punishment he might give. But another part—the part that watched my parents die, that survived Seraphine's betrayal—refuses to back down.
"I'd rather stand," I say, lifting my chin.
Something flickers in his eyes. Is it... amusement?
"Brave," he says. "Or stupid. I haven't decided which yet." He moves to a table and pours two glasses of water. "The execution blade that was supposed to kill you—it was tampered with."
My stomach drops. "Tampered with how?"
"It was designed to shatter on impact." He hands me one of the glasses. I don't take it. He raises an eyebrow. "It's not poisoned. If I wanted you dead, you'd already be dead."
That logic is terrifying but sound. I take the glass with shaking hands and drink. The water is cold and clean—the first clean water I've had since the ball.
"Why would someone want the blade to shatter?" I ask.
"Because they wanted to make it look like divine intervention. Like the gods themselves protected you." Theron leans against the table, arms crossed. "It would turn you into a symbol. A martyr. Someone the people could rally behind to oppose Queen Seraphine."
My mind races. "But that would help me. Why would someone do that?"
"Because martyrs are useful when they're dead, but dangerous when they're alive." He studies me with those cold eyes. "Someone wanted you to survive the execution, become a symbol, and then die mysteriously later. Your death would inspire a rebellion, but you wouldn't be around to lead it."
"Who?" I demand. "Who would do that?"
"That's what I'm trying to determine." He pushes off the table and walks to the window. "Your cousin made many alliances to take power. Not all of them trust her to keep her promises. Some may already be planning to remove her."
I think of Seraphine's smug smile, her crown on her head, her cold satisfaction at my suffering. The idea of someone plotting against her makes something dark and angry stir in my chest.
"Good," I say before I can stop myself. "I hope they destroy her."
Theron turns back to me, and I swear I see approval in his eyes.
"Careful, Lady Cassia. Thoughts like that could get you killed." He pauses. "Or they could make you powerful."
"I don't want power," I snap. "I want my parents back. I want my life back. I want—" My voice cracks. I hate that it cracks. "I want everything to go back to the way it was."
"It won't." His voice is flat, emotionless. "Your old life is dead. You can mourn it, or you can adapt. Those are your only choices."
Tears burn behind my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall. Not in front of him.
"Why do you care?" I ask. "Why does any of this matter to you?"
Theron is silent for a long moment. Then he walks toward me slowly, deliberately. I force myself not to step back.
He stops right in front of me. Reaches out and touches my face with one cold finger, tracing the line of my jaw.
"When I touched you in the courtyard, something impossible happened," he says quietly. "I felt your skin. Actually felt it—the warmth, the softness, the pulse of your blood beneath." His eyes bore into mine. "I haven't felt anything in twenty years. No heat, no cold, no pain, no pleasure. Nothing. Just endless numbness."
His hand drops away.
"Then you appeared, and suddenly I can feel again. Only when I'm near you." He steps back. "So yes, Lady Cassia, I care very much about keeping you alive. Because you might be the key to breaking my curse."
My mind spins. "What curse?"
"The one that made me into this." He gestures to himself. "When I was eight years old, dark sorcerers murdered my parents and performed rituals on me. They gave me power but took away my humanity. I can't taste food. Can't feel warm or cold. Can't experience joy or love or anything that makes life worth living." His voice remains flat, but there's something underneath now. Something that might be pain. "I've been searching for a way to break it for twenty years. And somehow, you—a disgraced noble girl—might be the answer."
"I don't understand," I whisper. "How could I possibly—"
"Neither do I. Yet." He moves to the door. "Which is why you'll stay alive. Under my protection. Until I figure out what you are and why you affect me this way."
"And what about my execution? Seraphine will—"
"Queen Seraphine," he interrupts coldly, "will do exactly as I tell her. This is my kingdom now. She rules at my pleasure, and that pleasure can be revoked at any moment." He opens the door. "Guards will take you to new chambers. Comfortable ones. You'll stay there until I summon you again."
"Wait!" I grab his arm without thinking.
The moment my skin touches his, we both freeze.
I feel it—a pulse of energy between us, like lightning jumping from my hand to his arm. His eyes widen, the first real emotion I've seen on his face.
"What was that?" I breathe.
Theron stares at where my hand grips his arm. Slowly, carefully, he covers my hand with his.
"I don't know," he admits. "But I intend to find out."
He pulls away and leaves without another word.
I stand there, staring at my hand. It tingles where I touched him, like something alive moving under my skin.
The guards arrive and escort me to a new room—far nicer than my cell, with a real bed and clean clothes. They lock the door behind me, but I barely notice.
I'm too busy thinking about the energy between us. About my eyes glowing gold. About being descended from the Moon Goddess.
What am I?
I move to the window and look out over the kingdom. Somewhere out there, Seraphine sits on her stolen throne, probably planning my death despite Theron's protection.
A knock at the door makes me jump.
"Lady Cassia?" A servant's voice, nervous and young. "Queen Seraphine requests your presence in the throne room. Immediately."
My blood runs cold. "The Dark King said I was under his protection."
"His Majesty has left the palace on urgent business. He won't return until morning." A pause. "The queen says if you don't come willingly, she'll have you dragged."
I close my eyes. Of course Seraphine would make her move the moment Theron leaves.
"I'm coming," I call back.
As I walk toward the door, I catch my reflection in a mirror. For just a second, my eyes flash gold again.
The old woman's words echo in my mind: The Lightborn family was blessed with divine power.
Maybe it's time to find out what that power can do.
The throne room is filled with nobles I recognize—people who used to smile at me, who attended my parents' parties, who praised my father's business sense.
Now they watch me with cold eyes as guards drag me to the center of the room.
Seraphine sits on the throne, my mother's crown gleaming on her head. She's smiling.
"Hello again, cousin," she purrs. "Did you really think the Dark King could protect you? He's gone now, and I'm still queen." She stands, walking down the steps toward me. "I've decided your execution should happen tonight after all. Can't risk him changing his mind when he returns."
Fear claws at my throat, but I shove it down. "He'll kill you for disobeying him."
"Will he?" Seraphine laughs. "Or will he thank me for solving his little mystery? After all, once you're dead, he'll stop feeling things again. Back to the comfortable numbness he's known for twenty years." She leans close. "You're not special, Cass. You're just a glitch. An inconvenience. And I'm about to fix it."
She signals to the executioner—a huge man carrying an axe.
"Any last words?" Seraphine asks sweetly.
I look at her—really look at her. At the cousin who betrayed me, who murdered my parents, who destroyed my life.
And something inside me snaps.
"Yes," I say clearly. "I have last words."
The golden light explodes from my eyes.