"I am Velista Alwyn," she said, staring straight at Azrayel.
She saw the devastation in his eyes and pleaded silently with her own. His jaw tightened as he looked at her, fingers trembling slightly as if he could barely hold himself back.
But she did not trust the royal court of Katarthan. Danger was everywhere, even inside its walls. She would not go with him. With Verry, she had a chance to escape.
Verry smiled. "Velista, darling, let us go."
She tried to pull free from Azrayel, but his grip tightened. A cold dread spread through her chest.
The plaza had fallen into a tense hush.
Nobles frowned, whispering sharply to one another, some recognizing the Crown Prince and questioning what woman he held.
Common folk stared with open curiosity, their murmurs spreading quickly like fire. Many whispered that this must be the rumored mate of the Crown Prince, their voices sharp with speculation.
While others gasped at the audacity of Verry, a foreign count, daring to hold ground against Azrayel in public.
"Metheea," Azrayel said, his face hard. His voice was low and sharp. He could not act.
By law, unless she admitted she was Metheea, she still had to follow Verry as her fiancé. His jaw set, his shoulders rigid, every part of him screaming with restraint. If he forced the issue, Katarthan itself would be accused of breaking treaty law.
Verry leaned toward her. "Tell him to let you go."
She looked at Azrayel with hard eyes. "I will talk with you at sundown in the academy. You do not want any rumours."
Azrayel did not release her until she physically pulled her arm free from his grip.
"You will listen, or I will never speak to you again," she said firmly, her tone cutting through the hush of the plaza.
His lips twitched, his eyes locking with hers in a wordless exchange that spoke louder than anything he could say, before he turned around and left them.
Verry held her arm almost forcefully as they walked through the plaza, dragging her more with each step. She felt every stare, every whisper slicing into her skin, until the heavy townhouse doors shut behind them.
The interior was dark and oppressive. Thick drapes smothered the light, the air smelled of old wine and smoke, and guards loomed near the walls. The walls seemed to close in on her.
Without warning, his hand struck her cheek, the blow ringing in her ear with a shrill sound.
The force of the blow knocked her sideways, sending her stumbling to the floor as Verry cursed aloud.
"Why are they whispering you are his mate? Do you know what that means?" he snapped.
She raised her hand to her cheek, the sting still burning. "You did not have to hit me," she said quietly. "The prince had only just been talking to me. People assumed the worst on their own."
Verry's glare hardened. "You made me look like a fool in front of the prince and the people."
"I was trying to keep him from causing a scene," she tried to explain, her voice unsteady. "If anyone suspects—"
Another slap cut her off. The metallic taste of blood filled her mouth. Her lip split, warm and sharp. She swallowed hard, blinking back tears.
"Stop talking, you stupid girl," Verry hissed, his curses biting with every word. "Do as I say, or you will regret it. Do you want me dead? Do you want war? Is that what you want?"
Verry gripped her jaw hard, forcing her to look at him. "Stupid girl, you told the prince the damn truth. What else did you tell him?" he spat.
"I did not," she muttered, her voice shaking.
His eyes bored into hers, wild and crazed. For the first time she realized how dire her situation had become.
Escape was gone.
If they slipped away tonight, her only path would be toward Makuteya, and she did not know if she could survive there. Images of Lerima, of Katarthan's academy halls, of chances lost flashed in her mind. Everything was falling apart.
"I cannot," she said weakly. "I still have—" She flinched as his arm came down again toward her face, the slap exploding against her cheek.
He cursed again, his voice rising.
"You stupid woman, do you realize you could ruin everything?" he shouted. "One word and the whole court knows. Do you want to destroy me, destroy yourself, and bring war on 3 kingdoms?" His grip on her jaw tightened as he forced her to answer. "What did you say to him? Tell me!"
"I did not say anything else," she whispered, his grip on her jaw hurting more.
He yanked her to her feet, his curses spilling out as he dragged her roughly through the corridor, her shoes scraping across the stone floor while guards averted their eyes.
The hallway was narrow and dim, heavy curtains drawn, each step echoing with his fury. He pulled her along without pause until he shoved her into a small storage room with no window.
Their eyes locked for a brief, furious moment, an unspoken threat passing between them before he slammed her inside.
"Wait until we reach Makuteya," he snarled. "I will kill you myself, you crazy, useless woman."
She collapsed to the floor, fear twisting in her chest. Bruises throbbed across her face and jaw, her breath ragged. She realized she had underestimated how far Verry would go to hide his agreement with Dythrid.
She rushed to the locked door, trying the handle, but it would not move.
She banged on it once, twice, pain shooting through her hands. Her ears rang with her own breath. She pressed her forehead to the wood, trying to steady herself. Memories of Azrayel's eyes in the plaza flickered—did he believe her? Would he come?
A faint smell of damp stone filled the room, seeping from the walls. It felt used before, a place meant for punishment. She curled against the wall, heart pounding.
Through the wood his voice came sharp: "Ready yourselves. We slip for Makuteya tonight."