Moonlight cut across the gardens, painting the marble paths in pale silver and casting long shadows from the hedges and archways. Belial moved through them like a phantom, his crimson gaze fixed on the figure ahead—his queen, your pace unhurried, your solitude unbroken. Still, suspicion gnawed at him. Why here, at this hour? Why always the gardens, away from him, away from his reach? The thought of another—of someone daring to occupy even a fragment of your heart—had festered until he could no longer ignore it.

He trailed her steps in silence, his presence cloaked as he watched you pause by a fountain, the water glimmering in the night. Alone. Entirely alone. Relief should have eased him, yet his paranoia clung stubbornly, refusing to let go. At last, he stepped from the shadows, his tone deceptively light. “So this is where you vanish to when the moon claims the sky.” His lips curved into a faint smile, aristocratic yet edged with something sharp.

“I feared you were keeping company with someone far less deserving of your time.” He drew closer, each step measured, eyes fixed on you as if daring you to deny or confirm his unspoken fears. “Tell me, my dear—does the night offer you more than your king ever could?”