His words sparked something intense and feral in me— almost like raw unfiltered dry ice.

I couldn't tell if it was a good reaction or a bad one, but I knew that the confusion that whipped through me was enough to get my head screwed back on.

I had a crush and slept with one of these men— the other was my mate; the half of my soul that I'd never feel complete without. It was the dilemma of all dilemmas, and right now I had to focus on the prophecy and war; not a love triangle. God knows I've had enough crushes in my life as a teenage girl to fill an entire seventeen magazine.

Determination fills my eyes as I'm aware of what I have to do, and yet, a little regret churns in my belly before I do it.

Callence's eyes never leave mine as he moves to crash his lips onto mine in a rough kiss, and no matter how badly I ache for this; how my soul craves this from him, I find myself moving quicker.

I'd always been hardheaded, but this was next level type of shit. The predicament of all predicaments.

I send a blast of ice through my fingertips aimed backwards at Callence and watch as his eyes flicker, momentarily surprised that I'd ever think of harming him.

The ice spreads through him, blue coating him solid from his abdomen to his legs and rushing up to his neck like a plague.

Surprise in those glowing blue eyes; and then— an unconcealed predatory gleam.

I'd just made this an irresistible hunt for him, I realized. I take a step and turn to face him as the ice thaws up toward his neck, crackling filling the noises as he smirks at me, eyeing me with half lidded eyes.

"I don't think you realize what you've done." He purrs.

"Why don't you be a good girl and undo this?" He says softly, his white teeth gleaming as my pulse starts to pound quicker. His tone is enough to get my fingers twitching, and ache that only he can satiate— but instead, I straighten my stance.

"I do. We need some boundaries." I say, a slight quiver in my voice. I clear my throat and raise my chin.

"At this moment I don't know what I want." I say, he growls at that but I ignore it.

"So I'm going to forfeit." I clasp my hands together.

"I won't choose you or Kilian. In fact, I'm actually pretty busy right now with the prophecy and all so— not a good time right now." I finish, giving Callence a small smirk as he eyes me, a thunderous expression.

"We aren't tethered to time." He says lowly.

"Still." I say in faux confidence.

"I see." He says, licking his lips slowly. The way his eyes never leave my body have me shaking, nerves getting the best of me.

"I'll give you your space," he hesitates.

"After you free me." He says, though his eyes say something else. I bite my lip, and then force out my next words in a soft tone.

"I don't believe you." And then I'm turning and breaking into a sprint. Bobbing and weaving through trees, I hear his abrupt roar, my name leaving his lips loudly.

That shouldn't be attractive to me. But it is— it fucking is.

Twigs snap and leaves crunch under the soles of my feet as I continue my trek to the camp that Kilian and I had used to get ready before the ball; Snippets of memories flashing through my mind, the setting that had been drilled in my brain since we'd planned on returning to the camp after the ball. Except— our plan didn't exactly go accordingly— and I found that it sent a stab of sadness through my heart.

After all, I'd spent a lot of time with Kilian throughout this entire journey, and he had helped me find my dad.

Did it truly matter that Callence was my mate? Couldn't I just reject him like Kilian suggested and live the rest of my days as his demon queen— peacefully?

The thought of that also sent an ache into my heart, of longing and betrayal; and also, unease.

Natural instinct was telling me that those thoughts weren't the right path for me, but they still raged on like a storm in my head, the sensation of unease growing thicker and thicker.

I'd watched Callence brutalize Kilian and thought it attractive.

But I'd seen Kilian take on warriors in Atticus's war camp— he'd been ruthless and bloodthirsty.

The thought almost makes me stop in my tracks. Kilian could've taken Callence— atleast it would've been a fair fight; but yet, his swings were sloppy, and he'd been knocked unconscious.

No— that was a miscalculation.

I'd never seen Kilian get taken down from a couple of punches. Something wasn't right.

After running for twenty minutes I feel the air burn my nostrils and lungs like fire spreading through my windpipe. My legs are absolute jelly, and I almost give up— but a peak of a clearing through the trees makes me increase my speed, all the while my thoughts of confusion and Kilian never stop.

A cold chill spreads through my shoulders, goosebumps littering my arms as I reach our campsite, finally.

The thought process still ringing in my ears as I take steps through squelching mud, to the boulder Kilian sat at. Where he'd given me his own blade for protection.

I chew on my lip, realizing the obvious truth. Kilian hadn't been rendered unconscious from the fight— but why had he given the illusion that he was? He could very well be awake right now— but doing what?

An uncomfortable chill fills me as I look around the camp, eyes scanning every surface and coming up empty; I couldn't find my grimoire.

It has to be here, this is where I'd left it.

My thoughts come to a brunt stop as I hear a throat clearing behind me, and I suppress the urge to shiver.

"Callence, I've already—" the words die on my tongue as I turn to face him— and instead find a dark king, eyes blackened from anger.

Kilian.

Kilian with a silver blade to my fathers shaking throat.

Whatever ice I'd had coursing through my veins sputtered to a rough stop at that sight.

My father was weakened, his body not yet ready to be standing after king Kaidens torture had run through him. The bandage over his eye was spotted with blood, letting me know that Kilian had most likely grabbed him roughly— and his face; gods his face.

Despair claws at me at the sight of my fathers raw pain and fear.

He was terrified, and Kilian? Kilian was grinning coldly.

Whatever hope had filled my chest cavity surely died at his expression as the knife pressed harder against my dads jugular vein, blood seeping out.

And a little bit of me also lost in the wind as a scream tore through my lips at the first crimson drop.

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