Chapter 5
Chapter five
The Star Court's architecture favored light with broad windows, open archways, spaces designed to capture and hold the sun.
But even here, shadows gathered. Briar found herself in one such place, an alcove between two pillars where morning light hadn't yet reached, where she could press her back against cool stone and try to make sense of the chaos in her chest.
Eliam had wanted to come for her. The knowledge sat like a coal beneath her ribs, burning in ways she couldn't name. He'd wanted to find her, but Thaine had stopped him. For politics. For appearances. For all the cold, calculated reasons that governed the Forest Court.
But he wouldn't have needed to come after her if he hadn't cast her out to begin with.
The thought circled back, inevitable as gravity. He'd thrown her to the wolves in front of the entire court. Made her prey. Watched her run.
But he wouldn't have cast her out if she hadn't freed Malus.
Another turn of the wheel. She'd released his captive brother, the monster who'd usurped his throne once before. She'd betrayed him in the most fundamental way possible.
But if he'd just given her a chance to explain—
Her fingers pressed against her temples, trying to quiet the endless spiral. If he'd listened. If she'd been honest about Thomas from the beginning. If Ferria hadn't manipulated her. If, if, if.
"There you are."
She looked up to find Arion at the alcove's entrance, relief evident in the way his shoulders dropped slightly at the sight of her. He moved closer, and the morning light caught in his pale hair, making him look like something painted rather than real.
"I'm sorry," she said automatically. "I shouldn't have run."
"You had every right to." He said, stopping just within arm's reach. His hand rose, hesitated, then gently tucked a strand of her tangled hair behind her ear. The gesture was so careful, asking permission even as he completed it.
She waited for him to ask about Thaine's revelation, about her choosing to stay with Eliam. Instead, his eyes searched hers with unexpected softness.
"Do you remember the night we danced?" His voice was quiet. "When you kissed me?"
The question hit her unexpectedly, emotion flooding through her so suddenly she could only nod, her gaze dropping to the floor between them.
She remembered the music, the way he'd moved with her, the desperate hope that maybe she'd found an ally, someone who might help her escape.
And then the kiss—impulsive, searching, trying to feel something other than the constant pull toward Eliam.
"I can't explain it," Arion said, his voice carrying something raw she'd never heard from him before. "In that moment, I would have done anything to protect you. To keep you from falling victim to more cruelty at Eliam's hands."
Her heart ached at the words, but not just from gratitude or affection.
A small, shameful part of her wished he had.
Wished he'd swept her away that night, taken the choice from her hands.
Maybe then things wouldn't have gotten so complicated.
Maybe then her heart wouldn't feel like it was being pulled in opposite directions, tearing down the middle.
His finger hooked gently under her chin, coaxing rather than forcing. Such a different touch than she was used to—where Eliam would have gripped her jaw, made her meet his eyes, Arion simply suggested, waited for her to choose.
She let him guide her gaze up to his.
"Whatever choices you made before," he said softly, "whatever you did in desperation to survive—none of that matters to me.
You did what you had to do." His thumb brushed along her jaw, the touch feather-light.
"All that matters is what you choose now, without the fear of punishment. Without coercion."
Arion watched her as he spoke, and she became aware of how intently he was studying her face, cataloging every small reaction.
The weight of his attention made her pulse quicken, a flush creeping up her neck.
Something shifted in his expression, a deepening of that raw quality she'd heard in his voice, mixed with what looked like wonder.
He stepped closer, closing the already small distance between them. His hand slipped from her jaw to cradle the back of her neck, fingers threading gently through her hair. The touch was warm, steady, and she could feel the slight tremor in his fingers that betrayed his own nervousness.
"I thought I'd never see you again," he murmured, his voice dropping to something more intimate.
“I thought I'd lost any chance to..." He paused, his eyes dropping to her lips before meeting her gaze again.
"That I’d never get another chance to show you that there's more to this realm than darkness and cruelty. That you deserve gentleness. Choice."
Briar’s heart was racing now, and she knew he could probably feel her pulse where his thumb rested against the side of her neck. The warmth in her chest stirred, reaching toward him with curious recognition.
"Arion," she breathed, though she wasn't sure if it was meant to encourage or warn.
He leaned in slowly, giving her every opportunity to pull away, to refuse. His forehead rested against hers for a moment, their breaths mingling in the small space between them.
"Tell me to stop," he whispered, "and I will."
She didn't.
His lips met hers with a gentleness that made her chest ache. The warmth beneath her ribs stirred fully awake now, reaching toward him with the same recognition it showed for Eliam, perhaps softer but essentially the same. The similarity should have disturbed her more than it did.
Arion's kiss was everything Eliam's weren't—careful, sweet, asking rather than taking.
His hand cupped her face like she was something precious, breakable.
She could disappear into this softness, this tenderness that asked nothing of her but what she wanted to give.
The Star Court prince who offered her choices instead of commands, freedom instead of chains.
I stopped him.
Thaine's words crashed through her mind, sharp as cold water. Eliam had wanted to come. Had been ready to abandon politics and appearances to find her.
She pulled back, breathless, her lips still tingling from the kiss. Arion's hand remained on her face, thumb stroking her cheek with concern.
"I'm sorry," he said immediately, though his eyes suggested he'd felt her initial response, the way she'd leaned into him before pulling away.
"No, it's not—" She pressed her fingers to her lips, trying to find words that wouldn't hurt him. "I'm just tired. Overwhelmed. Everything that's happened, everything I've learned... it's a lot to process."
Understanding flickered across his features, though she could see he wanted to say more, do more. Instead, he stepped back, giving her space.
"Of course. You should rest." He gestured toward the corridor. "May I walk you to your room?"
She nodded, grateful for the excuse to move, to not stand in this alcove where the ghost of his kiss still lingered. They walked in comfortable silence, Arion matching her pace, careful not to crowd her.
At her door, he paused. "Briar." She looked up at him, and his expression was earnest, almost urgent. "No one here would think less of you for the choices you made to survive. Whatever you decided then, whatever you decide now, you're not alone."
The words should have been comforting. Instead, they highlighted the fundamental difference between them. Arion offered absolution for survival choices, but she hadn't just been surviving at the end. She'd been choosing, wanting, staying.
She nodded, unable to trust her voice, and slipped into her room. The door closed with a soft click, and she leaned against it, eyes closed. The warmth in her chest pulsed, pulled in two directions at once, and she wondered if it was possible to be torn in half by wanting incompatible things.
Outside her window, the afternoon sun hung high, indifferent to her turmoil. Time moved steadily forward, counting down to the moment when the hunt would end and she would have to choose: the prince who offered her peace, or the cruel king who'd cast her out but haunted her still.
She moved to the bed, sitting on its edge, trying to reconcile the gentle pressure of Arion's lips with the memory of Eliam's demanding mouth. Different approaches to the same end, both wanted her, both pulled at that warmth in her chest with eerily similar resonance.
But want wasn't the same as value.
Briar rose, feeling restless, and made her way to the window, pressing her palms against the cool glass.
The gardens spread below, orderly and beautiful, everything in its proper place, just as it had been the last time she was here.
Nothing like the wild tangle of the Forest Court, where beauty and danger intertwined until you couldn't separate them.
Her reflection stared back at her from the glass, clean, healed, dressed in Star colors clothes. She looked like she belonged here. But looking the part and feeling it were different things entirely.
She closed her eyes and sighed. Her mind felt fractured, pulled between impossible choices. Stay in the Star Court where everything was soft edges and careful kindness. Return to the Forest Court where cruelty and passion tangled into something she still didn't fully understand.
Or leave them both behind. Find her own path.
But even as she thought it, she knew that wasn't truly an option. The warmth in her chest wouldn't let her forget either of them, and now there was Karse, somewhere out there, who had claimed her as his property.
There was no clean escape from the web she'd become tangled in.
A knock at the door interrupted her spiraling thoughts. She turned from the window, grateful for the distraction.
"Come in."