The air inside the Private Reading Room no longer smelled of old paper and candles. The air was now thick, heavy, and smelled of masculine musk mixed with the sweet aroma of evaporating sweat.

  There was only the dim light from the embers in the fireplace, casting long, flickering shadows on the walls. On the thick fur rug in front of the fireplace, two bodies were entwined, naked, bare, without a single thread separating their skin.

  Prince Arlen was on top, leaning his weight on his elbows so as not to completely crush Mira. His breath was ragged, rough, and hot, sweeping across the hollow of Mira's neck. His sweaty skin glistened in the firelight, and the pattern of lightning scars on his back and shoulders glowed faintly, pulsing in time with his still-racing heartbeat.

  Mira lay beneath him, her brown hair spread out messily on the white carpet like spilled ink. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, trying to gasp for oxygen. Her legs were still loosely wrapped around Arlen's waist, reluctant to let go of the warmth that had just filled every inch of her.

  “Rhea...” Arlen whispered. His voice wasn't that of a prince. It was the voice of a man broken and put back together. Hoarse, low, and full of adoration.

  Arlen leaned down, kissing Mira's bare shoulder, then moving up to her neck, jaw, and finally stopping at her lips. The kiss was no longer hungry and demanding like before; it was slow, lazy, and deep—a kiss of gratitude.

  Mira closed her eyes, feeling the sensation of Arlen's hot skin rubbing against her cooler skin. There was static electricity left—a subtle vibration that ran from her toes to the top of her head every time Arlen moved inside her or on top of her. It wasn't magic. It was biology. It was two atoms colliding and releasing energy.

  “I don't want this to stop,” Arlen murmured, dropping his forehead onto Mira's. His eyes were closed, his golden eyelashes touching Mira's cheek. “I want to freeze time. Just us. Here. Forever.”

  Mira opened her eyes slowly. She stared at the dimly lit ceiling. The guilt came back, sharper than before. She had just surrendered her body. She had just accepted Arlen completely—not as a target, but as a lover. And Arlen... this man had laid down all his defenses. He was naked, literally and metaphorically. No armor, no crown. Just flesh, bones, and a beating heart in Mira's palm.

  “We'll burn if time stops, Arlen,” Mira whispered, her hand tracing the rough texture of his lightning scar. “Fire needs air to stay alive.”

  Arlen chuckled, the vibration spreading to Mira's chest. He rolled onto his side, pulling Mira with him until they were lying side by side, facing each other. Arlen pulled the velvet blanket that had fallen from the sofa, covering both of their bodies. He hugged Mira tightly, hiding his face in her chest.

  “Let me sleep for a while,” Arlen murmured, his voice growing heavy with post-release drowsiness. “Just ten minutes. Don't go.”

  “I'm here,” Mira lied.

  Mira stroked Arlen's golden hair with a soothing rhythm. One minute passed. Three minutes. Five minutes. Arlen's breathing became regular. His heartbeat slowed. The static electricity on his skin faded into a barely audible background hum. The Storm finally fell asleep.

  Mira waited two more minutes to be sure. Then, with a very careful movement, she released her embrace of Arlen. She slowly replaced her body with a sofa cushion, making sure Arlen was still hugging something warm.

  Mira sat on the edge of the carpet. The cold air of the room immediately hit her bare skin, giving her goosebumps. She stared at Arlen, who was fast asleep. The prince looked peaceful, his face young and carefree. I'm sorry, Mira thought.

  She stood up, picking up her scattered clothes. She was no longer wearing her academy uniform. She put on Arlen's silk bathrobe, which was lying on the chair, tying it tightly around her waist. It was enough to cover her body for the time being.

  “I have to go to the bathroom,” Mira whispered into the empty air, as if asking permission from the ghosts in the room.

  She walked silently toward the side door that connected to the servants' corridor, not the main door. When she opened the door, she saw Anna standing there, leaning against the wall in the darkness.

  Anna didn't comment. She just glanced at Mira—her hair messy, her lips swollen, wearing the Prince's robe—then nodded toward the north corridor. “Elodie is waiting at the Moonlight Terrace,” Anna whispered. “The path is clear for fifteen minutes.”

  Mira nodded. She tightened the ties of her robe, transforming herself from lover to diplomat, and stepped into the shadows.

  ***

  The place was open, cold, and quiet. Located on the rarely used west side of the palace, this terrace faced directly onto the steep cliffs and dark sea below. The night wind blew strongly, carrying grains of salt and ice.

  Princess Elodie of Vsnava stood at the railing. She wore a thick silver velvet evening gown, complemented by a white fur cape on her shoulders. Her blonde hair glistened in the moonlight, making her look like a living ice sculpture.

  Mira stepped out of the glass door. The wind slapped her face, drying the remaining sweat on her skin. The temperature contrast was brutal—from the warm embrace of Arlen's fireplace to the frozen night with Elodie.

  “You smell like him,” Elodie said without turning around. Her voice was flat, sharp, and cold. “Thunder. Musk. And bad decisions.”

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  Mira walked closer, standing three steps behind Elodie. She hugged herself behind the silk cloak that was too thin for this weather. “You asked me to come, Elodie. Don't waste my time with perfume comments.”

  Elodie turned slowly. The princess's face was beautiful, but hard. Her eyes scanned Mira's appearance with undisguised disgust, yet there was a reluctant respect there. “You slept with him,” it wasn't a question. “You gave him what he needed. Validation. Warmth. The illusion that he was human.”

  “I gave him what you couldn't give him,” Mira replied calmly. “Empathy.”

  “Empathy is a weakness in Vsnava,” Elodie stepped forward, her high heels clicking loudly on the stone floor. “But I didn't call you here to discuss your bedroom life. I called you because of what happened last night. In the dining room.”

  Mira narrowed her eyes. “The crystal chandelier?”

  “That chandelier didn't fall on its own, Rhea,” Elodie stood before Mira. Her eyes narrowed. “I saw it. I saw that child... Anne. I saw the purple flash on her finger. And I saw Arlen panic.”

  Mira fell silent. Elodie saw it.

  “This family is sick,” Elodie hissed. Her voice lowered, full of urgency. "Vsnava has had spies in Asnaven for fifty years. We have records. King Maren is ‘sick’ and never seen. His wife, Queen Mathra, is obsessed with maintaining her image. Princess Arith trembles like an elderly person with Parkinson's. And Princess Anne... that child is a ticking time bomb."

  Elodie gripped the railing, squeezing the cold stone. “And Arlen... the ‘perfect’ fiancé... he's the only one who seems stable. But that's not normal. No human can contain that much pure element without consequences.”

  “What do you want, Elodie?” asked Mira. “Do you want to call off the engagement?”

  “I want to survive,” Elodie stared sharply at Mira. “My father, King Vsnava, needs a military alliance with Asnaven. He sent me here to marry Arlen. But I don't want to marry a corpse, or a monster that will explode on our wedding night.”

  Elodie took a deep breath, white vapor escaping from her mouth. “I know you're not just a lucky academy student, Rhea. The way you move. The way you look at the ministers. And the way you handle Arlen... you have an agenda.”

  “Everyone has an agenda,” Mira retorted.

  “Don't play games with me!” Elodie snapped, her voice rising slightly but quickly subsiding. “I'm offering a deal. An alliance.”

  Mira raised an eyebrow. “An alliance between the Queen-to-be and her rival?”

  “I don't want to be Queen of Asnaven,” Elodie spat to the side, disgusted. "I want to go home. I want to go back to Vsnava. But I can't go home empty-handed or my father will send my sister in my place. I need a legitimate reason to break off this engagement without starting a war."

  Elodie looked deeply into Mira's eyes. "Help me expose the rottenness of this family. Help me prove to the world—and to my father—that the Runerre bloodline is flawed. That marrying into it is genetic suicide."

  Mira was stunned. This was it. The opening she had been looking for. Elodie wasn't the enemy. She was a foreign security wanting out of a bad investment.

  “And what do I get?” Mira asked.

  “Access,” Elodie replied quickly. “The Runerre family is very secretive. But as a guest princess, I have access to diplomatic archives that you cannot touch. I have Queen Mathra's medical records that were sent to the physician Vsnava ten years ago. I have proof that this ‘disease’ has been around since Arlen's grandfather's generation.”

  Mira felt her heart racing. Medical records. They could be the missing piece of the puzzle to complete Ulric's census data.

  “And if I agree?”

  “Then I will protect you from the Council of Ministers,” said Elodie. “I have influence. I can sway public opinion. I can make you look like... a safer choice for Arlen, while I slowly step back as a concerned friend.”

  Elodie extended her hand, clad in silver silk gloves. “Whether you want to destroy them or save them, I don't care. As long as I can get out of here alive. Deal?”

  Mira stared at the hand. An alliance with Elodie meant she had political power behind her. But it also meant she had to lay her cards on the table with this icy woman.

  “One condition,” said Mira.

  “Speak.”

  “Anne and Arith,” said Mira firmly. “They must not be harmed. If we expose this, they must be protected. They are children, Elodie. They are victims.”

  Elodie looked at Mira with a strange expression. A mixture of surprise and pity. “You really do have a heart, don't you? In this game of thrones, the heart is the first organ to rot. Didn't Kars teach you that?”

  “Kars? You know Kars?” asked Kars in a lower tone, making sure no one else was listening.

  “Ah, I slipped up. I know Kars, we used to be in the same guild,” explained Elodie.

  “Guild? But how did you know I—”

  Elodie brought her lips close to Mira's ear. “I met him on the night of the explosion. I'll tell you the details later if you want.”

  “Tell me now.”

  “Do you want the prince to know that his beloved is missing?” Elodie pulled her body back to where it was, then she reached out her right hand again with a snort, and she nodded. “Focus on the original agreement. I'm not interested in killing a disabled child. My focus is on Arlen and the legitimacy of his throne. After that, I'll tell you everything you want to know.”

  Kars, Mira thought. That man had disappeared from her mind while she was making love to another man. Mira stared intently into Elodie's eyes. This woman could be one of the keys to all of this.

  Mira took Elodie's hand. Elodie's hand was cold, but her grip was strong and solid. “Agreed.”

  “Good,” Elodie pulled her hand back. She reached behind her fur cloak and took out a small blue leather-bound book. “This is the first step. The diary of the Grand Physician of the palace who died ‘suddenly’ five years ago. I stole it from my father's library before coming here. Read it. You will understand why I call them monsters.”

  Mira took the book.

  “Now go,” Elodie dismissed her, turning back to face the sea. “Return to your prince's bed. Warm him while you can. Because when this truth comes out... he will freeze forever.”

  Ah, Mira had forgotten to bring her igniter bracelets. She reluctantly hid the book under her bathrobe, pressing it against her warm belly. “Thank you, Elodie.”

  “Don't thank me,” Elodie's voice carried on the wind. “Thank fate that you're not a noble who has to marry her own cousin to keep the bloodline pure.”

  ***

  Mira hurried back to the Reading Room. Her mind was racing. The Grand Physician's Journal. The Vsnava Alliance. Genetic diseases. The noose around the Runerre family's neck was tightening.

  When she reached the door of the Reading Room, Anna emerged from the darkness. “Fourteen minutes,” Anna reported. “The prince moved twice, but he hasn't woken up yet.”

  Mira nodded. She slipped back into the warm room.

  Arlen was still there. Asleep on the carpet, hugging the sofa pillow Mira had left behind. His blanket was slightly open, revealing his sturdy shoulders.

  Mira hid Elodie's book under a pile of pillows on another chair. Then she took off her bathrobe, letting it fall to the floor. She was naked again. A lover again.

  She slipped under the blanket, pressing her cold body against Arlen's warm back. Arlen stirred in his sleep. His instincts recognized Mira's presence. He turned, his arms immediately wrapping around her, pulling her closer, burying his face in her hair.

  “Cold...” Arlen murmured in his sleep. “Where did you come from?”

  “The bathroom,” Mira whispered, kissing Arlen's chest. “Go to sleep.”

  Arlen sighed deeply. “I can’t sleep, I want more.”

  “Well… as long as you’re still strong until dawn, Your Highness,” Mira whispered, then kissed Arlen’s lips.

  Mira had to keep up this charade. She had to keep doing it. For her ultimate goal. For… Kars.