The chamber was silent when Alexander left, but Sophie could still feel him everywhere—the echo of his voice in the air, the warmth of his nearness clinging to her skin.
She hadn't moved from the chair. Her hands were pressed against the armrests, white-knuckled, her heart still hammering in her chest. The fire had burned down to glowing embers, casting the room in a restless glow. She tried to breathe, to steady herself, but every breath came out uneven.
What just happened?
Her lips still tingled where his gaze had lingered, as though the very weight of his eyes had left a mark. She should be furious—terrified, even. He had cornered her, caged her with words sharp enough to cut. But beneath the fear, another truth simmered: the dangerous pull she felt when he stood so close.
Sophie pressed her hands against her face, trying to smother the thought. No. Don't even think it. He's the king. He's suspicion and danger wrapped in armor. He doesn't see you, not really. He sees a risk.
The door creaked, startling her. Eira slipped in quietly, balancing a tray of food. Her eyes widened instantly when she saw Sophie.
"You're pale as parchment," Eira whispered, setting the tray down. "What happened?"
Sophie tried to stand but her knees wobbled, and she sank back into the chair. She shook her head, words failing her.
Eira rushed to her side. "Sophie—talk to me. You look as if you've seen a ghost."
"Not a ghost," Sophie managed, her voice hoarse. "The king."
Eira's face hardened. She crouched beside Sophie, gripping her arm. "What did he do?"
Sophie hesitated. How could she even explain? The memory alone made her chest tighten—the way Alexander had stood over her, his hand braced against the chair, his voice curling around her like smoke.
"He knows," Sophie said finally. Her voice trembled despite her effort to steady it. "He knows we went to the gallery. He had someone watching."
Eira's eyes widened. "Gods."
"He confronted me. Here. He locked the door and…" Sophie trailed off, heat rushing to her face at the memory of his closeness. "He warned me to stay out of the east wing. He said if I had questions, I was to bring them to him."
Eira's mouth pressed into a thin, grim line. "That's a cage. He's drawing the lines tighter around you."
Sophie nodded slowly, her hands twisting in her lap. "Yes. But that's not the worst of it."
Eira tilted her head, her expression searching. "Then what?"
Sophie swallowed hard. The words felt dangerous even in the safety of her chamber. "The way he looked at me, Eira. It wasn't just suspicion. It wasn't only anger. It was…" She broke off, shivering. "It was something else. Something I don't even know how to name."
Eira's expression shifted, first to shock, then to something far sharper. She leaned closer, lowering her voice. "Sophie. Tell me he didn't—"
"No," Sophie cut in quickly. "He didn't touch me. Not like that. But he—he was close. Too close. And it felt like—like he was trying to decide whether to destroy me or…" Her words faltered. Or something worse.
Eira closed her eyes briefly, as though weighing her response. When she opened them again, her voice was firm. "This is dangerous. More dangerous than I thought."
Sophie frowned. "Draven is dangerous. The council is dangerous. But Alexander—"
"—is king," Eira finished sharply. "Which makes him the most dangerous of them all."
Sophie shook her head, struggling. "He's not Draven. He isn't plotting to kill me."
"Are you certain of that?" Eira's gaze was piercing now, her hand gripping Sophie's tighter. "Think, Sophie. Men like him don't need to wield knives in the dark. They wield power. They wield loyalty. They wield you—if you're not careful."
The words cut deep, even though Sophie wanted to reject them. "I don't think he sees me as a pawn."
Eira's brow arched. "Then what does he see?"
Sophie hesitated. Her lips parted, but no words came. She thought of his voice—Are you my ally, Sophie, or are you my enemy?—and the way his gaze had burned through her like fire. She thought of how her heart had betrayed her, racing not only with fear but with something far more dangerous.
"I don't know," she whispered finally.
Eira sat back, frustration and worry warring in her eyes. "Then let me tell you what I see. I see a man who already doubts you. Who corners you when no one else is around. Who keeps you in a palace of locked doors and watchful eyes. And now you tell me he looks at you as if—" She cut herself off, shaking her head. "That's not protection, Sophie. That's possession."
The word sent a shiver down Sophie's spine.
But still, she couldn't let it go. "He also warned me about Draven. He knew what might have happened if we'd been caught."
"Or he reminded you," Eira countered bitterly, "that he knows what you risk—and that your fate rests in his hands."
Silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken truths. The fire popped in the grate, a sharp crack that made Sophie flinch.
Eira softened then, reaching out to take Sophie's hand. "Listen to me. I don't doubt his eyes lingered. I don't doubt his voice turned soft one moment and sharp the next. That's how men like him keep people unsteady. They blur the line between threat and… something else. But you mustn't mistake it for safety. Not when you still don't know what he wants."
Sophie looked down at their joined hands, her throat tight. "What if I want to believe him?" she admitted softly. "What if part of me… wants to trust him?"
Eira's grip tightened. "Then that's exactly how he'll win, Sophie. Not through chains. Through your heart."
The words pierced deep, leaving Sophie shaken. She wanted to argue, to tell Eira she was wrong, that Alexander was more complicated than that. But the truth was, she didn't know. She didn't know what Alexander wanted, what his gaze meant, why his nearness left her trembling.
All she knew was that he had noticed her. And that alone was peril enough.
Eira leaned closer, her voice dropping. "Promise me this—you'll be careful. Promise me you won't mistake his interest for protection."
Sophie hesitated. The memory of his voice still lingered in her ears, low and dangerous. Because fire burns everything it touches.
"I promise," she whispered.
Eira studied her face, then nodded slowly, though her eyes betrayed lingering doubt. She rose, adjusting the tray of food on the table. "Eat something. You'll need your strength. Whatever he's planning, this was only the beginning."
Sophie leaned back in her chair, staring into the dying fire. She knew Eira was right. Alexander hadn't ended anything tonight—he had only begun.
And now Sophie stood caught between two dangers: the open hatred of Draven and the court, and the far more complicated peril of the king's dark, watchful eyes.
As the embers flickered, Sophie whispered to herself, too softly for even Eira to hear:
"I don't know which one will destroy me first."