The garden was quiet after Cassian left, his laughter fading down the corridor as he was called to lessons. I sat on the stone bench beneath the ivy, hands folded neatly in my lap, while Snow stood a step behind me, silent as ever.

I turned my head slightly. “Snow,” I said.

He bowed his head. “Yes, Your Highness.”

“Would you die for me?”

There was no pause, no hesitation in his voice. “I would do anything you commanded me to.”

I blinked slowly, violet eyes narrowing. “Then die for me.”

For the first time, silence pressed down between us. His breathing did not change, but something in the way he stood shifted, like the air before a blade is drawn.

Yet he did not move.

“Why are you still alive?” I asked.

His eyes, pale as frost, flicked up to meet mine. “Because you have not truly commanded it.”

I tilted my head, curious. “Then I command it. Die for me, Snow.”

His jaw tightened. His hand moved to his sword—not the hilt, but the blade itself, fingers brushing against steel. A tremor passed through him, not of fear, but of submission, of a man bound too tightly by chains to resist.

And then he moved, lifting the weapon as if to turn it on himself.

“Stop,” I said.

His body froze instantly, sword hovering in the air. His chest rose and fell once, twice, the faintest crack in his composure betraying the weight of what almost was.

I leaned back against the bench, studying him with quiet interest. “You would have done it.”

“Yes, Your Highness,” he said, voice hoarse but steady. “I exist by your command.”

I laced my fingers together, pressing them against my lips like a child pondering a riddle. “Good,” I murmured. “Then I will make certain you never waste yourself on something so meaningless.”

Snow lowered his head again, sword sliding back into its sheath with the softest whisper of steel.

And though I was only five, and he a man broken and remade, it was clear in that moment: his life no longer belonged to the Emperor.

It belonged to me.

By evening, the servants whispered too loudly for it not to reach him. A maid had seen what I had done in the garden. How I had told Snow to die. How he nearly obeyed.

When Kael Vetras summoned me for tea, I knew it was not an invitation. It was a command.

The room was quiet, lit by tall candelabras that threw crimson light across the polished floor. Kael sat at the head of a small table, teacup balanced in his hand as though it weighed nothing. His golden eyes followed me as I entered, Snow trailing silently behind.

“Selene,” he said, voice smooth as velvet and twice as dangerous. “Come. Sit.”

I obeyed. My legs were short, the chair too high, but I climbed onto it without help. A servant poured tea into a porcelain cup small enough for my hands, steam curling between us like smoke from a battlefield.

Kael studied me for a long moment before speaking again. “A little bird tells me you asked your knight to die for you.” His lips curved, not into a smile, but into something sharper. “And he nearly did.”

I didn’t lower my gaze. “He said he would do anything I commanded.”

“And you tested him.” Kael’s laugh was low, rumbling, the sound of something that should not have been pleased but was. “You remind me of myself as a boy.” He leaned forward, resting his chin against his hand. “Always cutting deeper than others thought possible. Always wanting to see where obedience ends.”

Snow stood frozen behind me, head bowed, the collar at his throat gleaming in the light.

Kael waved a hand lazily. “Do not fear, Selene. I am not angry. If anything, I am impressed. You did not waste him. You stopped him before the act. That is wisdom.” He sipped his tea, eyes never leaving mine. “You are sharper than your brothers. More ruthless than your mother ever was. Perhaps you will be the one to inherit my fire.”

I took a careful sip of tea, the porcelain warm against my lips. “Why does he obey so absolutely?”

“Because he is mine,” Kael said simply. He glanced at Snow, and the knight flinched, almost imperceptibly. “Every breath he takes is because I allow it. That is why you can command him now. Because I gave him to you.”

I looked at Snow, his face shadowed, his pale hair catching the light. “Then he belongs to me.”

Kael chuckled again, this time softer. “So certain. So small. Yes, Selene. He is yours. But remember—he will never stop being mine.” His eyes glinted, molten gold catching flame. “Even pets bite when not watched carefully.”

I nodded once, slowly. The tea burned on my tongue, but I swallowed it without flinching.

Kael leaned back, satisfied. “Good. That is all. Enjoy your knight, daughter. He may yet prove useful in teaching you how fragile lives can be.”

The tea was bitter. But his words were worse.