Elena woke to candlelight and shadows.
Silken sheets clung to her skin, damp with sweat. Her body ached—bones humming with aftershocks of power she hadn't known she possessed. Her forearm was bandaged, the mark from the trial still tender beneath linen.
She blinked, trying to sit up, but a sharp pull of pain across her chest reminded her she wasn't quite whole.
A low voice spoke from the darkness. "You shouldn't move."
Lucien stepped into the candlelight from a shadowed corner of the chamber. He wasn't dressed in royal armor or court robes—just a loose tunic, his hair slightly tousled. There was something unsettling about seeing a king look so human.
"I've faced worse," Elena murmured, voice hoarse.
He came to the side of the bed, setting down a bowl of water and a cloth. "You almost died, Elena. You stopped breathing for a full minute after the shockwave."
She looked down at her hands. They were shaking.
"I didn't mean for any of that to happen," she whispered. "It wasn't me. It was the pendant. The magic. The voice."
Lucien knelt beside the bed and dipped the cloth in the water. Without asking, he took her hand and gently began cleaning the sweat and dried blood from her skin.
"You don't remember speaking in the Goddess's voice?" he asked.
She shook her head.
"She used you," he said softly. "But not like a puppet. More like... a vessel. You were glowing, Elena."
"That doesn't make me the Queen."
"No," he agreed. "But it means you're not just a historian from the future."
A silence settled between them, fragile and buzzing.
Elena's breath hitched. "Why didn't you leave me in the hall?"
"Because you were afraid," he said. "And because I know what fear does to people when they're alone in it."
He wrung out the cloth and set it aside.
Then his hand brushed a lock of damp hair from her face.
It was a simple touch.
But it set her heart racing.
"I saw her," Elena whispered. "The Moon Goddess. Before the trial. In a dream. She warned me."
Lucien's golden eyes searched hers. "What did she say?"
"That even kings can fall to shadow."
His jaw tightened.
"I don't trust easily," he said after a moment. "But I trust you. Not because of a vision. Not because of a pendant. Because when the court turned on you, you didn't burn them to ash. You asked for answers."
He reached down and gently lifted the pendant where it rested against her chest.
"It responded to you," he said. "And only you."
A tremor ran through her as his fingers brushed her skin.
"You've felt it too, haven't you?" she asked. "This... pull between us. Since the moment we met."
Lucien didn't deny it.
He leaned closer, just enough that his breath warmed her cheek.
"There is a bond forming," he murmured. "Ancient. Fated. But I won't let fate decide who I am to you, Elena. Or who you are to me."
He stood, as if pulling himself away was a physical effort.
"Rest," he said. "You'll need your strength. The court may have bowed today, but they haven't stopped sharpening their knives."
She watched him walk to the door.
"Lucien."
He paused.
"Thank you," she said softly. "For choosing me."
He looked back over his shoulder. "You're the only thing I've chosen in a very long time."
And then he was gone.
Elena lay back, heart pounding, the pendant cool against her throat.
She didn't know what tomorrow would bring.
But tonight… tonight she was not alone.