The house was too quiet. The kind of quiet that made every shadow feel alive.
I poured myself a drink in the study, the amber liquid catching the firelight as I settled into the leather chair. I had no intention of sleeping tonight. Sleep was for men who felt safe, and I hadn't known that feeling in years.
The door opened without a knock.
Elena.
She walked in like she owned the room, though her shoulders betrayed the weight she carried. Her silk robe clung to her figure, but her eyes… they burned sharper than the flames behind me.
"You're drinking alone," she said flatly.
"Better than in company I don't trust."
Her lips curved, faint amusement sparking. "Still the same cold bastard, I see."
I leaned back, swirling the glass lazily, letting the silence stretch. She hated silence—always had. And I used it like a knife.
Finally, she snapped. "Tell me, why did you come back? After all these years, why not stay gone?"
My eyes met hers, steady, unreadable. "Because running is only useful once. The second time, it makes you weak. And weakness, Elena…" I sipped my drink. "…gets you killed."
She flinched, just slightly, but enough. Her mask cracked for a heartbeat, and I saw it—the girl who never escaped, the woman chained by debts.
I stood, moving closer until the space between us burned. "You think you're the only one who lost their freedom? Look at me. I traded mine the moment I walked back through that door."
Her breath hitched, her defiance trembling against something deeper.
"You're cruel," she whispered.
"Cruel keeps me alive."
Our eyes locked. The air was thick, dangerous, electric. I could see the war raging in her—hate, longing, fury.
And damn me, but I felt it too.
For a moment, I thought she'd slap me. Instead, she stepped back, her voice a low blade. "Careful. Even kings can fall."
Then she was gone, leaving only her scent in the air and the storm in my chest.
I laughed under my breath, dark and bitter. "And queens can burn."