Chapter 10 Sebastian #2
She let out a breath that was half laugh, half mortified sound. “Gods. I asked her if the two of you were together when I first came here.”
I stopped walking. “You what?”
Her face heated. “I was na?ve. I didn’t understand how there could be a female Advisor who wasn’t—” She gestured helplessly. “And she’s beautiful. That was literally the only explanation my brain could come up with.”
I stared at her for a beat.
“That,” I said flatly, “is the most disturbing thing I’ve ever heard.”
She groaned and buried her face briefly in my chest. I wrapped an arm around her, the contact grounding in a way nothing else ever was.
“I’m never living that down, am I?”
“Absolutely not.”
She laughed—real this time—and some of the tension eased from her shoulders. I felt better than I had in the yard. Less sharp. Less coiled.
But not settled.
Because it wasn’t over with Adar.
* * *
“Where is he?” I asked as I stepped into the office—Bronwen’s office. I didn’t even bother pretending it annoyed me anymore that I didn’t have one in my own castle.
Because she took it.
“Who?” she asked absently, already knee-deep in ledgers.
“B.”
She didn’t look up. “You can’t see him?”
“No. He isn’t answering me either. It’s like he disappeared.” I pinched the bridge of my nose as it all clicked into place. “You locked him in a cell again.”
She shrugged, calm as ever. “He needed a time out.”
I turned toward the door. “Excellent. Now he’s going to be even more aggravated.”
I almost turned back—to apologize for Violet’s questions, for reopening wounds I knew Bronwen kept sealed tight—but she was humming softly now, sorting through papers as if nothing in the world had gone wrong.
I let it go.
One step carried me out of Bronwen’s office. The next, I was standing in the lowest level of the castle.
The cells loomed around me—ancient, circular, carved deep into the stone.
They hadn’t held prisoners in centuries.
Once, they’d housed anyone who dared defy the crown, spelled so no magic could breach the barriers.
I didn’t think they were very useful considering anyone who defied me deserved death, not imprisonment.
Now they stored the excess of Bronwen’s purchases and documents she refused to destroy on principle.
“Okay, B,” Adar’s voice called from the far end. “You can let me out now.”
I followed the sound. He stood behind the barred door, arms crossed, posture rigid. When he saw me, his jaw clenched—and he turned away.
“You went too far,” I said as I stopped in front of him.
“She went too far.”
I kept my expression neutral, even as anger coiled tight in my chest. He wanted a reaction. I wasn’t going to give him one.
“She didn’t know,” I said calmly. “And you were acting out of anger.”
Silence.
“That isn’t like you,” I continued. “And you know it.”
Still nothing.
I stepped closer and laid my hand against the lock. The wards responded instantly. They always did—this door opened for me and one specific key that Bronwen claimed as hers centuries ago.
“We’ll need to travel to the Sun Realm soon,” I said. “She’s circling possibilities. Fantasies. What-ifs. She needs to see the land. Feel the weight of it before she decides what comes next.”
That did it.
He turned.
“She isn’t ready,” he said through gritted teeth.
I forced my shadows to stay with me. “She’s improving.”
He scoffed. “Improving?” His eyes cut sharp. “She’s progressing because she knows she’s safe. Take her out of a controlled environment. Let someone come for her with intent.”
“Like you did?”
His jaw tightened. He dragged in a slow breath through his nose. “She will hesitate,” he said flatly. “And that hesitation will get her killed.”
“She doesn’t have to be ready,” I replied. “We will be there.”
For a long moment, he studied me—measuring, calculating. Then he gave a single nod. Sharp. Dismissive.
“I have things to do.” He brushed past me, shoulder grazing mine as he left the cell.
I stayed where I was long after his footsteps faded.
“She will be okay,” I said under my breath. Not for him. For myself.
Because the truth was, Violet was already braver than she realized.
She carried power that hadn’t decided what shape it wanted yet—but would, given time. Given care. Given space to become something more than a weapon forged by fear.
And gods, she tried.
Every day she woke up and chose the world again. Chose kindness. Chose curiosity. Chose to keep asking questions even when the answers hurt. She stood in rooms full of monsters and never once let herself become one.
I’d ruled the Night for centuries, commanded armies, broken gods’ laws with my bare hands—and none of it frightened me the way the thought of losing her did.
I pressed my palm flat against the stone wall, shadows curling instinctively around my wrist.
If the realms moved too fast—if they forced her hand—
I would destroy every path between us and rebuild the world slowly enough for her to walk it without fear.
Not because she was weak.
Because she was everything.
I transferred to the library.
She sat curled on the couch, legs tucked beneath her, a book open in her hands.
I knew without a doubt she was reading one of the texts about humans again.
Most of her time was spent buried in Sun Realm history and the endless expectations tied to the throne, but whenever she had a moment to herself, she went searching for anything she could find about the twins.
“Can I help you?” she asked.
“Just checking on you.”
Without looking up from the page, she patted the cushion beside her.
I obliged, lowering myself onto the couch and doing my best to remain quiet. She looked completely absorbed in the book, and I had no intention of distracting her.
I did well.
My shadows did not.
They writhed around me, trying to wrap around her. I fought them for as long as I could, but the soft tan of her thighs and those short dresses she loved to wear made concentration difficult.
Then she moved and her dress slid up further.
Gods, I just wanted to touch—
A tendril of shadow reached her before I could finish the thought.
She slammed the book shut.
“I’m sorry, love. I can’t cont—”
The rest of the sentence died as she transferred.
One second she was across the couch, and the next she was straddling my lap, her hands buried in my hair.
“You love to blame your shadows,” she said, tugging hard enough to tilt my head back. “But I distinctly remember you telling me in this very library that your shadows are you.”
She leaned closer, her breath warm against my skin as she traced her tongue slowly up the side of my neck until she reached my ear.
“Maybe,” she murmured softly, “you need to learn some control.”
My hands had already found her waist.
Instinct.
Need.
She caught my wrists before I could pull her closer. “No.”
The word was quiet, but there was no mistaking the command in it.
She pressed my hands back against the couch cushions beside me, holding them there for a moment while her gaze searched my face.
“Stay.”
The shadows behind me writhed in protest.
I swallowed hard. “Violet—”
“No,” she said again.
This time the word came with a small smile that made my chest tighten.
“You started this.”
Her fingers slid from my hair down the side of my neck, tracing slowly over my skin until they reached my collar. She didn’t rush. She never rushed when she knew exactly what she was doing to me.
And she absolutely knew.
My shadows shifted again, curling around the edge of the couch like restless animals.
“They’re doing good,” she murmured, glancing briefly at the darkness moving around us. “You always blame them.”
Her hand drifted lower. I dragged in a slow breath, trying very hard to remember how to think.
It wasn’t working.
She shifted slightly in my lap, rubbing herself against my hardening cock. My fingers twitched against the cushions, every instinct in my body screaming to grab her, pull her down, take control of the moment before she completely destroyed me.
Her hand immediately pressed against my chest. “Don’t.”
My head fell back against the couch.
“Gods,” I muttered.
She tilted her head slightly, studying me with that same curious expression she wore when she was trying to solve a difficult problem.
“What?” she asked lightly.
“You know exactly what.”
Her smile widened just a fraction.
Then she slipped her hand under her dress, and with it, a noise escaped her lips.
Fuck. Me.
My hands clenched against the cushions.
“Violet,” I said.
“Yes?”
“That’s not fair.”
“Life rarely is.”
She rode her fingers and wouldn’t let me touch her.
Every small shift of her body sent another wave of heat through me, and the shadows at my back tightened.
She leaned in, her lips brushing my jaw before drifting down the line of my throat.
The contact was light, almost teasing, but the effect it had on me was anything but.
My shadows surged forward before I could stop them.
They curled around her waist instinctively, tightening just slightly as if they were trying to pull her closer despite her earlier command.
Her fingers brushed the darkness away. “No.”
My shadows froze.
I groaned softly. “Please, baby. I’ve been away for two days.”
She leaned closer again, her lips hovering just above mine now, her breath turning uneven. “Keep begging.”
I hadn’t even realized I was.
But I would give her anything she asked for right now.
My voice dropped to a quiet, strained whisper. “Violet… let me have you.”
She shook her head, her free hand sliding over her breast.
“Please,” I breathed. “I need that perfect fucking breast in my mouth.”
Her hair slipped forward over her shoulders, the ends beginning to glow faintly—brightening the closer she came to release. She bit her lip to muffle the sound, but the moment it hit her, it tore through the bond between us anyway—warm, overwhelming, flooding my senses.
My restraint shattered.
My mouth found hers without hesitation, the kiss hungry and desperate after the torture she’d just put me through. My shadows surged forward with me, curling instinctively around her arms, her legs, her breasts. Her hands found the buttons of my shirt, fingers fumbling in their urgency.
When the buttons refused to cooperate, she gave up entirely and ripped the fabric open instead.
I barely had time to laugh before she was kissing her way down my neck—slow, warm—then along the curve of my shoulder.
And then she gasped.
Her body went rigid as she pushed herself away from me, sliding off my lap so quickly she lost her balance and hit the floor hard.
I was beside her before I even realized I’d moved. “What’s wrong?”
She scrambled backward, putting distance between us, shaking her head, eyes wide.
“Baby, what’s wrong?”
She didn’t answer.
Instead, she lifted a trembling hand and pointed at my shoulder.
I followed her gaze.
And then I understood.
My shadows had betrayed me.
The darkness pooled along my skin shifted, twisting in a way I hadn’t commanded. Within it, an image began to form.
A face.
The unmistakable face of a dovamin swirled through the shadows on my shoulder.