The palace corridors were still humming with music when Tara slipped away.
The party had grown loud—too loud.
Faces blurred together. Expectations pressed against her ribs until breathing felt like work. She told herself she just needed a moment. Five minutes alone. A mirror. Cold water on her wrists.
She didn’t tell anyone where she was going.
That was her first mistake.
The restroom wing near the eastern gardens was quiet—too quiet for a royal celebration. The torches flickered low, shadows stretching unnaturally long across the marble floor.
Tara slowed.
Her wolf stirred, uneasy.
And then she saw him.
Vaelor stood near the archway, arms crossed, posture relaxed—as if he had been waiting all along.
Relief washed over her so fast it almost made her dizzy.
“You scared me,” she
