Her hand drifted to his chest, her fingers slowly working the first button of his shirt free.
Then the second.
She felt the firm warmth of his skin beneath the linen, and her heart hammered against her ribs.
This is it, she thought.
A fragile hope rising in her chest.
But he drew back.
His breath fanned her lips, unsteady and sweet. The space he created between them felt colder than the studio air.
"You should go."
He pressed a swift, almost formal kiss to her cheek, then stepped back.
His movements were precise as he straightened his shirt, re-buttoning it with deliberate care. He did not look at her again before he turned and left, the door clicking softly shut behind him.
She stood alone in the center of the room, the echo of his touch already fading from her skin. The disappointment was a hollow, aching thing. For a moment, she had let herself believe—in the heat of his kiss, in the vulnerability in his eyes—that they might finally bridge the silence between them.
Now, it was clear. He didn't even care a bit.
---
Aurelia's POV...
Just when I thought something would happen… he left.
The door closed so softly it felt unreal, as if my mind had imagined it.
I stood there, alone, my skin still remembering the warmth of his nearness, my heart still racing from a hope I never should have allowed to grow.
And yet—
When I breathed, relief came first.
Because if he had stayed, I would have broken to him will.
I would have clung to whatever scraps of tenderness he offered, even if they were wrapped in cruelty and command.
Calvus was right.
I had been surviving here, not living. Floating between fear and longing, mistaking intensity for meaning, mistaking possession for care.
Every day I stayed, I lost a little more of myself—and I was beginning not to notice.
I pressed my hands to my chest, feeling my heart still beating, still mine.
I cannot keep waiting for him to decide what I am worth.
If I do not leave now, I never will.
Today…
or never.
---
Aurelia was still lost in the hollow echo of her own thoughts when the door opened without ceremony. A young woman entered—not a maid, judging by the sharpness of her posture and the knowing coolness in her eyes.
"Lady Camilla has requested your presence," she announced, her tone smooth but edged with a subtle command.
Aurelia's gaze sharpened. "And why?"
The memory surfaced—hard and bright—of the last time she'd faced her.
Camilla almost striked her down.
The messenger tilted her head, a faint, knowing smirk touching her lips. "How would I know such things? But surely," she added, the words polished and deliberate, "you would not wish to keep the crown princess waiting."
Aurelia's hand tightened in the folds of her dress, the fabric whispering under her grip. Every step outside this room had begun to feel like walking into a snare—yet to refuse was not an option. Not when the invitation was a veiled command.
"Very well," she said, her voice steady despite the chill settling in her chest. "Lead the way."
After the long walk, they entered Camilla's chamber. It was a reflection of Tenebrarum's taste—black, black, black. Shadows clung to every corner, and the air felt heavier than the corridors they had just left.
Chairs were arranged meticulously, like a dining room prepared for an audience, though the purpose remained unclear. Aurelia's senses tightened.
Sorana moved close behind her, hands hovering near her shoulders, protective and alert.
Aurelia could feel the quiet tension in Sorana—an unspoken warning that whatever awaited them here was not to be taken lightly.
"You called?" Aurelia's violet eyes met Camilla's sharp blue gaze.
"No bow?" Camilla frowned, clearly surprised. Her pale blue eyes narrowed, and the faintest crease formed between her brows. She had never been treated with such insolence—or disregard.
Her gaze flicked sharply toward Tenebrarum, though he was absent, as if silently blaming him for Aurelia's audacity. The air hummed with unspoken tension, every heartbeat echoing in the shadowed chamber.
But Aurelia and Sorana remained straight and rigid, refusing to bend.
"You didn't call me here to—" Aurelia began.
"Yes," Camilla interrupted smoothly, "I wanted us to share breakfast. Sit."
Aurelia lowered herself onto the chair with measured grace, each movement precise, as though the very act of sitting was an offering to the judgment in Camilla's eyes.
The dishes before her were rich, fragrant, crafted with care that only heightened the tension in the room. Hunger clawed at her, yet she did not reach for them immediately.
Camilla clapped her hands once, sharp and deliberate. "If you do not eat," she said, slicing the baked pancake with a golden knife, "you will grow too thin. Tenebrarum will forget you, as he has forgotten so many others before." Each word was laced with disdain, yet she ate slowly, savoring the meal as though every bite reinforced her power.
Sorana leaned close, her voice a cautious murmur against Aurelia's ear. "You have eaten nothing since… Try, at least. Otherwise, she will speak without end, and you cannot afford to give her that victory."
Aurelia's violet eyes swept over the feast, over Camilla's imperious figure, and then to Sorana's warning.
Pride warred with need, yet even in this ancient, oppressive air, survival demanded her submission.
Aurelia's hand hovered over the plate, yet she did not move to taste a morsel. Instead, she struck the fork against the table with deliberate force, the clatter echoing through the chamber.
"Forgive us, Lady Camilla," Sorana said swiftly, a practiced smile on her lips, attempting to veil Aurelia's defiance. "But my lady insists that the food be tasted by a taster before she partakes."
The words hung in the air, a thin veil of courtesy masking the boldness beneath.
Camilla's eyes narrowed, the faintest flicker of irritation crossing her perfect features, yet Aurelia remained poised, unyielding in her silent rebellion.
------------------
To be continued...