Later that night.
The fire had long since burned low. The room was quiet again, too quiet — except for the frantic pacing of Rhea's thoughts.
She couldn't sleep.
Of course you can't. You're married to a man who may or may not think you're here to destroy him, she thought dryly. And let's not forget: you never even got a first kiss, but you're spending your honeymoon with a prince known for putting people six feet under.
She muttered under her breath, "Some girls get roses and champagne… I get emotional trauma and strategic suspicion."
Needing something — anything — to ground herself, she turned to the vanity.
The drawer.
The book.
Still there.
She hesitated. But her hands moved on their own. She pulled it out and climbed onto the bed, curling her knees beneath her.
The emerald leather cover shimmered faintly in the dim candlelight, the sigil on the front still glowing faintly — moon and vine intertwined.
She flipped through the pages she'd already seen. Then… past that.
There. More words. New ones. As if the book had been writing itself.
"Elowen, born under the Moon's Favor, would be the kingdom's hope — destined to lift the old curse that bound the firstborn prince in shadow. Her kindness would melt hearts. Her purity would reveal truth. And her love, freely given, would break the bond of blood-stained fate."
Rhea blinked.
"But she came too late."
Her heart twisted.
"By the time Elowen reached the cursed prince… his hands were already stained with war. His heart, sharpened into armor. He had stopped seeking salvation. He no longer believed in prophecy — only betrayal."
The next words chilled her.
"Thus, the hero became the villain in the eyes of the people. And Elowen was forced to choose: save the kingdom… or save the prince."
Rhea whispered aloud, "And she didn't choose him."
She flipped the page — blank.
The rest… still unwritten.
She let out a shaky breath. "So that's it? He was supposed to be saved, but they ran out of time.
The world turned against him. He turned against it. And now everyone's expecting me to play spy while this whole story is unraveling around me?"
She flopped backward onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling.
"You're not even the real heroine, Rhea."
The thought hit like a stone in her stomach.
You're not Elowen. You're not the chosen one. You're not the savior. You're the woman the Queen planted beside him like a knife dressed in lace.
A bitter laugh escaped her lips. "Perfect. I can barely make it through midterms and minimum wage. Now I'm stuck in a cursed romance novel where the prince might murder me in my sleep if I sneeze the wrong way."
But then she looked back at the book…
At Cyrien's name.
And Elowen's.
She was supposed to break his curse…
Rhea sat up slowly, the weight of the pages pressing into her hands.
But Elowen wasn't here. Rhea was.
And maybe — just maybe — the story wasn't finished yet.