Chapter 3
The whispers began the moment Eris slipped into her silk chemise. They were insistent and commanding.
The language was ancient, older than the stones of Astareth itself: a chorus of voices layered and overlapping, weaving syllables she couldn’t decipher, yet felt deep in her bones. She didn’t understand it, but it understood her. And tonight, it was calling with the promise of something inevitable.
The robe slipped from her fingers. Silence followed.
A tremor rippled down her spine. Her breath hitched, not in fear, not entirely, but in that strange, gut-deep pull, as if something unseen had hooked into her ribs and was drawing her forward.
Her pupils dilated. Her heartbeat slowed, syncing to a rhythm that wasn’t her own.
She moved like a ghost in silk, barefoot and silent, her eyes glazed as if seeing something distant.
At the bottom of the grand staircase, a cluster of young delegates whispered about post-ceremony scandals—until the stillness hit.
Someone inhaled sharply. “Wait—”
All heads turned.
Eris Dragov, pale and untouchable in the flickering candlelight, moved like something not entirely of this world. A stunned silence stretched. Then came a sharp laugh.
“Is that—? No way.”
“The Dragov Princess,” someone whispered, wide-eyed.
Another smirked. “Should we wake her up?”
A boy grinned. “Nah. This is too good.”
Comm-Orbs flickered to life.
“Witch,” someone muttered.
“Cursed thing,” another scoffed.
Then, running footsteps. The library doors burst open.
“Come quick! You really don’t wanna miss this, everyone!”
Heads turned, some startled, others intrigued. Stephan didn’t move.
A delegate near him sighed. “If this is another prank, Nikolai—”
“Oh, trust me,” Nikolai said, grinning like a wolf. “This is better than any prank I could pull.” He paused just long enough to savor the weight of it, then delivered the blow. “Eris is sleepwalking. Half-naked. In the corridors.”
Stephan’s chair scraped back, empty. He pushed through the crowd and saw it: the sneers, the laughter, the Comm-Orbs capturing every humiliating second. And her, Eris, standing in the center of the hall, lost, unreachable.
He had seen her like this before, a thousand times, and the memory of each one was carved deeper than the last.
Two boys waved their hands in front of her eyes, mocking her trance. Stephan’s blood lit like oil on fire. He didn’t hesitate. He shoved them back, hard. His coat came off in one fluid motion and wrapped around her shoulders.
“Get out,” he growled. The laughter died. “Now.”
The Comm-Orbs lowered as delegates stepped back: no one wanted to test Stephan Dragov’s patience. Then Eris moved. She turned and walked right past him, straight into the night, and the heavens split open. Rain fell in sheets, a storm so heavy, it felt like prophecy.
Stephan was right behind her when a voice called from the doorway: “Here!” It was Theon, his closest friend. An umbrella sailed through the air. Stephan caught it without looking, snapped it open, and disappeared into the storm.
From the upper hall windows, they all watched: the princess and the future king.
Gossip caught like firelight, but one pair of eyes watched differently.
Kareon Duskbane stood at the library window, arms crossed, golden eyes fixed on her.
The anomaly of the Dragov House. The future ruler who couldn’t be controlled.
A girl like no one else. His eyes shifted to Stephan, shielding her from the storm as if he could shield her from the world. Kareon’s lips curled.
Interesting.
Stephan Dragov was always composed, always restrained, but never with her. And that was something worth remembering.
The rain poured in sheets, drumming against the stone and drowning the world in a steady roar.
Eris stood, barefoot and still, in the middle of the courtyard. Water clung to her chemise, running in rivulets down her skin, but she didn’t shiver. She was listening. Not to the storm or to Stephan, but to something else.
Stephan didn’t move. He knew this part, the waiting. Pulling her back too soon only shattered her faster. So, he stayed, silent, waiting.
The rain pounded around them, a relentless rhythm on the cobblestones and against the canopy of the umbrella he held over her.
His free hand flexed at his side, but he didn’t reach for her.
Not yet. Then her lashes fluttered, a tremor rippling through her frame, followed by a sharp inhale, as if breaking through the surface of deep water, and she was back.
Stephan smiled, easy, effortless. A lie.
“Lose something, princess?”
Eris stared at him, dazed, her breath still unsteady.
He was soaking wet. She looked up. An umbrella shielded her, held steady in his hand.
Her stomach tightened. She looked down at her bare feet, touched the coat wrapped around her—his, not hers.
And then it struck. Her breath hitched, nausea curling in her stomach.
No.
She turned toward the gathering hall, instinct screaming at her to look. But Stephan shifted before she could—a smooth pivot, blocking her view. His smirk remained, but something frantic flickered in his eyes: a distraction, a shield.
“Awful weather for a walk, don’t you think?” His voice was too light, too forced.
Something inside her pulled taut. Her lips parted.
“I don’t remember being with you…” She swallowed hard. “Why are we here?”
The smirk faded. His warm hand found her shoulder, steady.
“Eris,” he paused, careful, like stepping over thin ice, “just trust me. Let’s go inside.”
Her gaze searched his, and then she saw it—not just concern, but control. The way his grip had tightened slightly, the way his stance was too careful, like a shield, like he didn’t want her to turn around.
Her body moved before her mind caught up. She turned. He didn’t stop her this time. He only closed his eyes, bracing. Then her breath vanished. A sea of laughing faces crowded behind the windows, recording.
Oh, gods.
Eris staggered back. Her hands flew to her face as the air collapsed around her, her skin burning. Her voice cracked.
“Why?” She drew in a shaky breath. “Why does it always have to be like this?”
Why couldn’t she just be normal?
Stephan’s fingers flexed. She was breaking, right in front of him, and something inside him snapped. He wrapped his arm around her.
“Let’s go.”
There was no hesitation. He stepped forward, a shield between her and the world, as he had always been, as he would always be.
Without another word, he pulled her inside. The door creaked as it swung open, and he led her through the dim corridors to a secluded chamber. The heavy wooden door groaned shut behind them. Stephan’s grip remained firm but careful as he guided her to the fireplace.
Flames crackled, casting flickering gold against the damp stone walls. Heat pulsed against their rain-soaked skin, thick with the scent of fire and wet earth.
Eris barely moved. Her arms locked around herself, her breath uneven, barely holding together.
Without a word, Stephan gripped the hem of his shirt and dragged it over his head. The soaked fabric hit the floor with a wet slap. He hung it by the fire, water tracking the carved lines of his back.
Eris’s breath caught. She looked away—too late. Firelight kissed sculpted muscle, rain-slick skin, the hard lines of a body forged for war. Her mouth went dry. She hugged the coat tighter, pretending the warmth in her chest came from the fire. It didn’t. It curled low, dark. Insistent.
Gods. He’s gorgeous…and so fucking half-naked.
Her gaze slipped back, unbidden and slow, tracing the shift of his shoulders, the gleam of water trailing his chest like a sin. His voice cut through the silence, low and rough.
“Your coat.”
She stiffened. Stephan didn’t miss the hesitation.
“It’s drenched, Eris. You’ll freeze.”
Still, she didn’t move. He exhaled, raking a hand through his hair.
“Turn,” she murmured.
His brows twitched, but he obeyed.
She waited until he wasn’t looking before shrugging off the coat. She wrapped her arms around herself the second the cold air bit at her skin. After hanging the coat beside his shirt, she folded into herself, knees pulled to her chest as she sank onto the furs by the fire.
“Done.”
Stephan turned, and for a second, he forgot how to breathe.
She sat curled by the hearth, bare legs drawn close, arms wrapped around them like a barrier.
The firelight adored her. It cast a soft gold over her skin, traced the delicate curve of her throat, the bare slope of her shoulder, the smooth line of her thigh.
Stephan swallowed hard, dragging his gaze away.
For a long moment, neither of them spoke. Then Eris broke the silence.
“This isn’t going to work.”
His head snapped up. “What?”
She exhaled sharply, fingers digging into the furs.
“I’m leaving,” she said. “I’ll talk to my father tomorrow. Tell him I’ll participate in the Summit from home.”
Stephan’s jaw clenched.
No. Not again. Not another separation.
“Eris—”
“I’ll spare you the burden of watching over me. And keep what little dignity I have left."
His chest twisted. Gods, she actually thought she was a burden.
“You’re not troubling me,” he said, voice raw.
A bitter smile formed as her voice turned cold.
“Spare me the niceties, Stephan.” She met his gaze and struck. “As if I’d ever want to be your liability. Especially now that you’re so busy planning your wedding.”
The words landed like a slap. His body locked.
“What?”
Her eyes burned. “Your wedding, Stephan. With Bianca Lestrelle.”
His stomach dropped. Of course. Word had gotten out.
“Eris.” His voice tightened. “Who told you that?”
Her breath hitched. That was not a denial. The crack in her chest split wide open.
Eris turned away. “I just know.”
The silence was suffocating. Eris curled into herself, holding her knees closer, as if bracing for the truth she already knew. Stephan drew a breath to speak, but she beat him to it.