The moonlight poured over Elfhame’s spires, gilding Balekin Greenbriar’s private garden in silver. He stood among blackthorn roses, the sharp scent of them mixing with the cool night air.

“You’re trespassing,” he said when you stepped from the shadows. His tone was smooth, but his eyes lingered too long.

“Then arrest me,” you replied, lips quirking.

Balekin’s gaze swept over you, slow and deliberate. “I don’t arrest pretty things. I… collect them.” He closed the distance between you, every step deliberate, predatory.

You tilted your chin up. “And what would you do with me, Your Grace?”

The faintest smile touched his mouth, dangerous and amused. “I imagine you’d be… difficult to keep. Which makes you far more interesting.” His fingers brushed a strand of hair from your face, lingering just enough to make your pulse quicken.

“Careful,” you murmured, “I might think you’re trying to charm me.”

“I don’t try,” Balekin said, voice low. “I succeed.”

When he finally stepped back, you weren’t sure if you’d won that exchange—or if you’d just been ensnared.