The knock had barely faded when the door creaked open.
No permission asked. No guard to announce him. Just the soft hiss of hinges and the tall figure that stepped inside as though the chamber were already his.
Leonel.
The moonlight from the window caught his profile, carving his features into something both regal and dangerous. He moved with the confidence of a man who never feared rejection, the kind of confidence that made others bend before they even realized they were kneeling.
"What are you doing here?" My voice was sharper than I intended, but the late hour had frayed my patience.
He ignored the edge in my tone, closing the door behind him with deliberate ease. The candlelight wavered as he drew closer, and for the first time tonight, I wished the shadows would swallow me whole.
"You didn't answer when I knocked," he said smoothly, as if that excused the trespass.
"You didn't wait," I snapped. "This is my chamber, not your throne room."
His gaze lingered on me, unbothered. And then—too briefly to be casual—his eyes flickered to the desk where my parchment lay half-covered by my hand. The list. The one with names already scrawled in ink like curses waiting to be spoken.
My pulse jumped, but I forced my expression calm. If he noticed, he said nothing. Instead, he stepped closer, every measured stride pressing against the fragile wall I'd built to keep him at a distance.
The silence between us stretched, heavy and dangerous, broken only when he finally murmured, "You seemed… troubled today."
I met his eyes, refusing to look away. "And that concerns you why?"
His smile was faint, unreadable. "Because whether you accept it or not, Eryndor—you are mine to protect."
I almost laughed at his words—mine to protect. They tasted like chains.
"Protect me?" I tilted my head, forcing a smirk. "Tell me, Your Highness, when did I ask for your protection? Was it before or after half the court whispered I should be disposed of like spoiled wine?"
The smirk slipped from his lips, but his eyes never wavered. "You think their gossip matters?"
"It matters when knives follow whispers." My hand brushed the parchment on the desk, a subtle reminder of the names I'd already etched. Enemies, traitors, vermin. All of them still breathing, for now. "Or do you not remember how quickly 'gossip' becomes a death sentence in this palace?"
Something flickered in his gaze—an emotion too quick, too sharp. Recognition.
My breath caught. For a moment, I could almost believe he did remember. The fire, the betrayal, the screams. The way he had died in my arms—
I swallowed hard, shoving the image down. No. I couldn't afford to drown in ghosts while the man himself stood in front of me.
Leonel's voice broke through the silence, lower this time. "That's why I'm warning you. Stop letting them see your anger. Stop showing them your defiance. They will use it against you."
A bitter laugh escaped me before I could stop it. "So you want me to play meek and harmless? Sit quietly and smile while they sharpen their knives behind my back?"
"I want you alive."
His tone was firm, but beneath it I caught the thrum of desperation, like a string pulled too tight. It unsettled me more than his arrogance ever could.
I folded my arms, narrowing my eyes. "And why is my life so precious to you, Leonel? Spare me the noble speeches. Tell me the real reason."
For the first time tonight, he faltered.
For the first time, Leonel faltered. His jaw tightened, his lips pressed into a thin line, but his eyes—those eyes betrayed him. They weren't cold. They weren't distant. They burned with something far too raw for a prince draped in power.
I caught the slip, and the realization pricked like a thorn. "You can't answer, can you?" I whispered. "Because there is no reason. Or perhaps… it's a reason you're too afraid to speak."
He closed the distance between us in two strides. My back brushed the edge of the desk, parchment crumpling under my hand. I should have moved, should have shoved him away, but my body betrayed me—frozen, waiting.
His voice dropped, softer than I'd ever heard it, rough with something dangerously close to pleading.
"Eryndor… I can't watch you fall again."
My breath caught. Again. The word echoed in my skull like a bell. Did he know? Could he possibly—?
He went on, the veneer of control cracking. "Every time they look at you, I see what they'll try to do. I see how fragile their loyalty is. And it… it makes me want to tear them apart before they even lift a hand."
For a heartbeat, I saw not the Crown Prince of this empire but the man I had once known—the man who had smiled so freely, who had loved without fear. The man I had held as he bled out in my arms, dying because he dared to love me.
I clenched my fists, nails biting into my palms. Memories clashed with reality until I couldn't tell if this was comfort or torment.
"What are you saying, Leonel?" My voice cracked despite myself. "What do you want from me?"
His hand lifted, stopping just short of my face, trembling faintly before he pulled it back as if burned. His mask slipped back into place, but the crack remained.
"I just… don't want to lose you."
The words hung between us, fragile as glass. I just don't want to lose you.
For a fleeting second, I almost let myself believe him. Almost let myself step into the warmth his voice promised. But warmth was dangerous—it blinded, it burned, and in the end, it consumed.
I straightened, forcing distance into the narrow space between us. "You speak as if you've already lost me once."
His eyes darkened, but he didn't deny it. Instead, he leaned closer, his breath brushing my ear, his presence suffocating and intoxicating all at once.
"You don't need to understand," he murmured. "Just know this—whether you hate me, whether you curse me, it changes nothing. You are mine to protect."
The words were not gentle. They were not kind. They were a chain slipped neatly around my throat, disguised as devotion.
I bristled, but before I could spit out a retort, his hand caught my wrist—not tight, but firm enough that I could feel the heat of his skin searing through mine.
"Remember that, Eryndor," he whispered. "No matter what it costs… you are mine."
And then, just as swiftly, he released me. The door opened, and the cold night air swept in as Leonel disappeared into the shadows of the corridor, leaving the scent of his presence lingering like smoke.
I stared at the empty doorway, heart pounding. My wrist still burned where he had touched me, as though his claim had etched itself into my skin.
Mine.
The word throbbed in my ears, not as comfort, but as a warning.