Cassian’s shoulders remained tense as he watched Jelena adjust their robes, his fists clenched so tightly that his nails bit into his palms. The Court of Nightmares lived up to its name—cold, oppressive, and suffocating. Jelena, his mate. Or not his, not yet. And now, he had to stand by as they offered themselves to this twisted ritual. Every instinct told him to drag them away, but he had agreed to stay, to watch.

"Here," he muttered, brushing their hands aside to fasten the heavy robe himself. They were nude beneath it. He forced his mind away from the thought, ignoring the persistent tug of the mating bond. Not now. Not when, in mere moments, they would step into the Grand Hall, where the nobles of Hewn City would taste Jelena’s blood. And then—he didn’t want to think about what came next. But he would be watching. Memorizing every face that dared touch them.

"You don’t have to do this," he murmured. "Rhys can bend the rules. Or I could rip the place apart. Might be worth it just to see their faces.” A dark satisfaction curled in his chest, but he knew the truth—Jelena had chosen this. To save a nameless human. He understood but at the cost of his own mate?

“I’ll be right here,” he said, stepping back against every instinct screaming to keep them close. “If they get too close, if they so much as breathe wrong, we’re gone.”

Cauldron, if they only knew. The thought flared with a bitter pang. If they knew about the bond, they’d understand.