Now the room seemed stale, as closed off and cold as the man who had apparently claimed it as his own. The quaint writing desk Aurora had used had been replaced by a large desk of gleaming, dark wood. Behind it the prince sat, his back to her, facing one of the many bookshelves that held the princess’s books.

He turned, his dark hair disheveled and his eyes sunken and dark.

“Sit,” he ordered, his voice a whisper, but filled with command.

The prince waved a hand at the soldier, who stepped from the room and closed the door.

They were alone, and Nova had no idea what was happening. The prince’s visits to her cell had slowed of late. Based on the number of storm sirens she had heard, she assumed he was busy with the Rage season.

The prince stared at her through the silence, his mouth a slash of frustration. They sat so long that Nova’s fatigue began to pull at her attention. The chair she sat in felt so soft in comparison to stone. She thought she could slump there and sleep for days. Not even her fear was a strong enough opponent to overcome her exhaustion.

“Do you think she’s still alive?”

Nova blinked. They’d been through this before, when the queen had broken down over her fears that Aurora had been killed by her kidnappers. Nova had never been able to get word to her of Aurora’s true intentions.

“Is this about the queen? Is she well?”

Cassius’s frown grew flatter, his gaze hard.

“That’s none of your concern. I want to know if the princess is alive. Am I wasting my time searching for her?”

Nova shook her head. “I do not know.”

His jaw worked, teeth clenching, and he took a deep breath.

“The circumstances of Pavan have changed dramatically over recent weeks. I have put as much time and attention toward the search as I am able, but a time is approaching … the time is here when my priorities have been forced elsewhere. If you know anything, if you care at all to see your friend again, you will tell me what you know now before it is too late.”

The last was said in an exasperated growl. It was clear the prince was obsessed, and that obsession had worn down his regal facade, letting the darkness inside him show through.

She observed him carefully—the clench of his fists hinted at how close he was to the edge. She did not care to know the depths of this man’s depravity. Nor did she want that for Aurora.