CARSON LET OUT a long, low whistle. "Well. That went better than expected. He didn’t try to kill you, and he definitely tried to flirt in his own, sociopathic way. I’d call that a win for the first hour."
Lucson walked over to Mailah, his expression thoughtful. "He is fighting himself, Mailah. The demon in him recognizes your scent, but the Prince in him is insulted by the loss of control. It’s going to be a volatile few days."
Mailah sank back onto the sofa, her hand going to her neck where his fingers had just been. Her heart was still racing, a mix of hope and heartbreak warring in her chest.
"He’s still there," she whispered to the empty room. "But he spoke like he’d forgotten why he chose human wives in the first place. I don’t know which version of Grayson he is."
Lucson turned away from the window, the amber light of the Zurich streetlamps catching the silver in his eyes, making them look like cold, polished coins. He sighed—a sound that seed to carry the weight of several centuries.
"It’s worse than a simple mory gap," Lucson said, his voice dropping into a somber register. "From what I gathered in those few minutes of speaking with him... Ysoria didn’t just take his mories of you. She took the entire evolution of his character. As far as Grayson is concerned, it is currently the height of the Great War in our realm."
Mailah felt a cold pit form in her stomach. "What does that an?"
"It ans," Lucson said, stepping closer, his expression pained, "that the version of Grayson currently sitting in that room is the one who was obsessed with the Princess. He is the demon who saw humans as re biological curiosities—annoyances at best, and cattle at worst. Ysoria took out every mont of his life that led him toward humanity. She stripped away the man who learned to love, leaving only the Prince who lived for power."
Mailah’s breath hitched. She thought of the man in the bunker—the one who had looked at her like she was his entire world. Now, she was a stranger to the version of him that had once loved his current enemy.
"How could she ask for such a sweeping price?" Mailah whispered, her voice trembling. "To take soone’s entire soul and rewrite it? It’s... it’s monstrous."
"Ysoria is the arbiter of symtry," Lucson explained, his gaze drifting to his own hands as if he could see the invisible threads of fate. "For every big spell she casts, she has to pay a price herself. She doesn’t just take from us; she loses sothing irreplaceable from her own essence to anchor the magic. So say she’s lost her ability to feel warmth; others say she’s traded her sight for the ability to see the city’s veins. That is why she is the most respected—and feared—being in the supernatural world. She understands that nothing is truly free."
He looked back at Mailah, his eyes searching hers. "Grayson offered her ’anything.’ To banish a Princess of the Third Circle, Ysoria needed a sacrifice that carried enough weight to tip the scales of the universe. Your love for him—and his for you—was the heaviest thing he owned."
The suite was silent for a long ti after Lucson and Carson retreated to their respective rooms. Mailah sat on the edge of the velvet sofa, staring at the closed door of the master suite. She felt like an intruder in her own life.
She stood up, her legs feeling like lead, and moved toward the mini-bar to get a glass of water. Her throat felt like it was lined with sandpaper.
The door to the master suite clicked open.
Mailah froze. Grayson stepped out, but he wasn’t the Grayson who wore soft sweaters and smiled at her over breakfast. He was dressed in a tailored black silk shirt, the sleeves rolled up to reveal forearms corded with lean, dangerous muscle. His hair was pushed back, and his expression was one of bored, aristocratic disdain.
He didn’t see her at first. Or he chose not to look. He walked to the window, his movents so fluid and silent they were predatory. He stood there, looking out at Zurich as if he were deciding whether to buy the city or burn it.
"You’re still awake," he said. He didn’t turn around.
"I couldn’t sleep," Mailah replied, her voice sounding small in the vast room. "I kept thinking about the ti you told that the stars looked like tears in the veil."
Grayson walked to the railing, standing a few feet away. He looked out at the water, his profile sharp and beautiful. "A poetic sentint. I don’t recall saying it."
"You did. You also told that you’d never let the dark take ."
Grayson turned his head, his gray eyes locking onto hers. In the moonlight, the silver ring in his pupils was brighter, pulsing with a slow, rhythmic light. He took a step toward her, his presence enveloping her.
"I don’t know who that man was," Grayson said, his voice dropping into a register that was almost a caress. "But I look at you, Mailah, and I feel a hunger that has nothing to do with essence. I want to know why I marked you. I want to know why the thought of you leaving this suite makes the shadows in my mind grow teeth."
He reached out, his hand sliding into her hair, his fingers tangling in the dark curls. He tilted her head back, his gaze falling to her lips. The simring intensity between them was a physical force now, an electric current that blurred the lines between predator and lover.
"You’re a mystery I haven’t solved yet," he whispered, leaning down until his lips were a breath away from hers. "And I have always been very fond of my possessions."
He didn’t kiss her. He lingered there for a heart-stopping second, the tension so thick it felt like the air might catch fire, before he pulled back and disappeared into the shadows of the suite without another word.
Mailah leaned against the railing, her breath coming in short, jagged gasps. He didn’t rember her, but he was hunting her.
As she watched the moon, Mailah realized that Lucson was right. The hunt hadn’t ended. It had just moved into the heart of the man she loved. And she was going to make sure he lost the fight to stay cold.
The next morning, the hotel suite felt like a battlefield where the lines had been drawn in invisible ink.
Carson was in the kitchen, trying to teach a very confused hotel chef how to make "proper" demon-friendly olets, while Lucson was buried in a stack of old parchnts he had retrieved from a hidden compartnt in their luggage.
Grayson was nowhere to be seen.
"So," Carson said, sliding a plate of eggs toward Mailah. "How was the midnight rendezvous? Did he try to bite you or just give you a lecture on the inferiority of the human species?"
"A bit of both," Mailah said, picking at her food. "He’s so cold. It’s like he’s a different person."
"He is a different person," Lucson said, looking up from his parchnt. "He’s the Grayson who hasn’t yet realized that power is a hollow crown. But the fact that he’s talking to you at all is a good sign. The old Grayson—the one from the War—wouldn’t have bothered with words. He would have simply had you removed."
"He said he was ’distracted’ by ," Mailah admitted.
Carson grinned, a flash of his usual mischief returning. "Distracted, huh? That’s demon-speak for ’I want to pin you to a wall but I’m too proud to admit it.’ Trust , Duchess, his subconscious is doing backflips. You just have to keep poking the beast."
"Is it safe?" Mailah asked. "What if the beast bites back?"
"Then we’ll make sure he has a muzzle," Lucson said, though his expression remained grave. "But for now, we need to focus on the Council. They’ve felt the ripple of Seryn’s banishnt. They’re going to want to know why an Ashford used an Ancient Witch to settle a personal debt."
The door to the master suite opened, and Grayson erged. He was dressed in a charcoal suit that fit him like a second skin, looking every inch the corporate predator. He looked at the three of them—the brothers who were now strangers to his heart, and the woman who was a ghost of a love he couldn’t rember.
"We leave for a eting with the Council," Grayson announced, his voice echoing with that terrifying, lodic authority. "I’ve arranged for a private transport. Lucson, I want the full brief on the Council’s current standing. Carson, stop playing with the help."
His gaze landed on Mailah. He didn’t say anything, but his eyes lingered on her for a second too long. It was a look of intense, simring curiosity—as if he were trying to solve a puzzle that didn’t have enough pieces.
"And the human," Grayson added, his voice dropping into a low, dangerous register. "She cos with us. She is a witness to the banishnt. The Council will want to verify the ’Symtry’ Ysoria claid."
"Her na is Mailah," Lucson said firmly.
Grayson didn’t acknowledge the correction. He simply turned and walked toward the door. "One hour. Don’t be late."
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