The alley behind the palace still smelled of smoke and damp earth as I made my way back to my chambers. Every step echoed in my mind, not because of the emptiness around me, but because of him — his presence, his words, the way he had looked at me as if I were already claimed.
Sleep didn't come that night. Every shadow in my room seemed alive, whispering reminders of the evening, of the command in his card: "Meet me." My heart refused to settle, and my mind replayed every fleeting glance, every deliberate step he had taken toward me.
The next morning, a servant arrived with another note, smaller this time, folded in black-edged paper. I hesitated before opening it. The handwriting was the same: precise, sharp, almost like it had been carved into the paper itself.
"You will see me again. Do not be late."
It wasn't a request. It wasn't even a question. It was a command — one I knew I couldn't refuse.
That evening, the palace corridors felt different. Even familiar rooms seemed foreign under the weight of anticipation. I followed the note's instructions: a smaller, hidden chamber in the eastern wing — a room I had never noticed. Candles flickered along the walls, casting uneven shadows that danced like living things.
He was there, waiting, as if he had never moved from the spot. The contract, the gala, the shadows — everything had led to this.
"You've come," he said, voice low and commanding. No greeting, no small talk. Just presence. Possession.
"I… I did what you asked," I whispered, my voice trembling more from tension than fear.
He stepped closer, close enough that I could feel the heat radiating from him, yet not close enough to touch. His gaze was piercing, and I could feel the invisible tether that bound us growing heavier with every heartbeat.
"The contract isn't just words," he said, almost to himself. "It's a claim. And claims… are taken seriously."
My chest tightened, a mixture of dread and an unexplainable thrill. His intensity was overwhelming, yet I felt a strange comfort in it, as if he were the only constant in a world I could no longer trust.
We spoke little that night, but every look, every deliberate pause, every breath shared in that chamber built a tension that neither of us could ignore. It was possessive, intoxicating, dangerous — the kind of dark allure that lingers long after the moment has passed.
When I finally left, the candles extinguished behind me, I knew one thing with certainty: the contract was real, the bond unbreakable, and the shadows around him far darker than I had imagined. And somehow… I wanted to be tethered, even if it meant stepping into the unknown.