The blade trembled in Skylar's grip.
It was heavier than she had expected, balanced differently than the training swords and the dagger she had handled in secret. This was a real weapon. A killer's tool.
And it was pointed at Caspian's chest.
He did not move, his hand still holding the crushed remains of the blue rose, his dark eyes fixed on her face. Skylar's arm ached. The sword felt heavier by the second, but she did not lower it. She worried what would happen if she did.
"Say something," she demanded.
Caspian glanced at the blade, then back at her. "What would you like me to say?"
"That you will not marry me."
"Would it matter if I did?"
"I have a sword at your chest," Skylar moved the blade upward,"to your throat!"
"Yes. You do." His voice was flat. Unimpressed. "And yet here we stand."
Caspian stepped forward, directly into the blade. Skylar gasped and tried to pull back, but he was faster. His hand closed around the flat of the sword and drew it closer, pressing the edge against his chest.
"If you're going to do it," he said, "do it. Otherwise, stop wasting my time."
Blood seeped from his hand. The blade pressed against the fine black fabric of his coat. And there was an utter lack of fear in his eyes.
"I could," she whispered. "I could kill you right now."
"Yes." His voice was calm yet rough, like a Commander training his soldiers. "You could. And then what? You would be a murderer. A traitor. Your family would bear the shame. Astros would suffer the consequences." He watched her face, cataloging every flicker of emotion. "You haven't thought past this moment. Have you?"
He glanced down at her grip on the hilt. Something finally in his expression.
"Your grip is correct," he observed. "Thumb along the flat. Your posture and weight balanced." His eyes met hers. "Someone has taught you."
Skylar said nothing.
"But they failed to teach you the most important lesson," he continued, his voice flat. "You're trembling. You've never drawn blood before. Have you?"
She said nothing.
"That's what I thought."
He released the blade and stepped back, leaving smears of blood on the steel. Skylar stared at the red stains, his blood, evidence of how she had pointed a sword at him.
He pulled a white handkerchief from his coat. It was embroidered with the wolf sigil of his House. He wrapped his wounded palm with practiced efficiency. He did not wince. He did not hurry. He did not even look at her.
"I do not have the time or the temperament to give you the response you seek," he said as he worked. "You want me to be furious. Or frightened. Or impressed. You want something to happen that would change the course we are on." He shook his head slowly. "But I am not interested in playing whatever game you think this is."
"Game?" Skylar's voice cracked. "You think this is a game?"
"I think you have played your hand. I think you are reckless. I think you have no idea what you actually want, only what you don't want." He finished wrapping his hand and finally looked at her. "And quite frankly, none of that is my concern."
"I am holding a blade to your throat. I have insulted and threatened you," she said, disbelief bleeding into her voice. "Surely I am not worth this much trouble."
"It is not you I am after, but what you are worth to me. Your actions mean nothing"
"How can you say that?"
He tilted his head slightly, studying her like she was a puzzle he had already solved. "Because it changes nothing. Did you think violence would move me? I have faced far worse than an angry girl with a stolen blade."
The words pierced her. An angry girl with a stolen blade. She had never been this reckless. Never been this terrible. She had shed her dignity, her sense, her respect for herself and for him, all of it, thrown away in a desperate gamble.
And it had changed nothing.
Skylar's arm dropped fully.
And Caspian was on her in an instant.
She did not see him move. One moment he stood a pace away, the next, he was close, too close, his uninjured hand closing over hers on the hilt.
Time slowed.
Skylar let it happen because she could do nothing else. His fingers pressed into hers, not harshly, not gently, simply precisely. Watched him twist the blade that relayed years of training. The sword left her grip entirely, spinning once in the air before landing firmly in his hand.
And then she felt it. The cold kiss of steel against her own throat.
Her back hit the wall. She had not even realized she was moving. Caspian stood before her, his forearm pressed against her collarbone, his sword resting against the delicate skin of her neck.
Their eyes met.
And Skylar saw everything in that endless, frozen moment.
He could have done this at any time. From the very first moment she had drawn the blade, he could have taken it from her. Could have ended this before it began. The blood on his hand, he had allowed it.
"Do you see now?" Caspian said quietly.
"Understand what?" Her words scraped past the blade. Skylar tried not to show her fear.
"That your desperation does not make you dangerous. It makes you predictable." He held her gaze. "You showed me exactly who you are tonight. What you are willing to do. What you are not willing to do." He tilted the blade slightly, not enough to cut, just enough to remind her it was there. "You hesitated. You trembled. You talked. You are no killer, you do not possess the ability to change anything. That is not weakness, it is simply truth."
He held the blade there a moment longer, then slowly, he lowered it and stepped back. The space between them returned. Skylar slumped against the wall, her legs unable to support her. Her gaze burned holes into the ground, her shame weighing it down.
"Take my hand."
Caspian's voice sounded louder and distant, even though he stood right before her. Skylar raised her chin and saw that he had extended his hand. So calm and so patient, as though nothing had happened.
Skylar could only stare.
"Take it."
"…I won't."
"Take it."
Skylar did not. She stood up straight with whatever fight she had left. She faced Caspian, armed with nothing but her hatred.
"You grow wearisome, my Lady" Caspian sheathed his bloodied sword. He pressed his thumb against the stained handkerchief, moving it across his wound. "But I will not choose another. I did not ask for you. I do not want you. But to do what is required of me, I will have you. I will have your threats, your insults, your hatred. I will have all of you. And you, all of me."
Caspian bowed and Skylar's throat tightened. "My Lady. You have promised to spend the rest of your life trying to burden me, ruin me. So I will make you a promise, too. As Lord Caspian Everus, ruler of Xoras and the Northern Lands, I promise, for as long as you are mine, to spend the rest of my life never letting you go."