The rain beats down in sheets, turning the road into a graveyard of drowned earth, swallowing our footsteps as fast as we make them. It seeps into my skin, into my bones, a relentless force that makes every step harder.

  The King's Blade moves through it like it isn't even there. Like he isn't soaked to the core, like the storm raging around us is nothing compared to the one brewing inside him.

  Something tight coils in my chest as Vinnie's voice drifts through my mind.

  'The wolf did not bare its teeth, yet the rabbit cowered all the same.'

  I swallow the lump in my throat. "Are you okay?"

  Rael doesn't slow, staring up the muddied hill at the looming mansion. "I'm fine."

  Liar.

  "What happened back there wasn't right," I press. "What he did—"

  "Drop it."

  I can't.

  "You didn't deserve that. He didn't even give you a chance."

  Rael stops so suddenly I almost crash into him. He whirls around, his gaze burning hotter than the lightning ripping the sky apart.

  "A chance?" His voice is razor-sharp. His laugh is worse—low and bitter. "A chance to what? Change his mind? Prove I'm not the monster he thinks I am?" He steps closer, until we're nearly chest to chest. "Would that make you feel better, princess?"

  The wind howls, the rain pelting harder, but I barely hear it over my pounding heart.

  "I—"

  "You think what he did was cruel? That the way he looked at me was wrong?" He cocks his head, mockery laced in every movement. "That's rich, Princess." He leans in, and I feel the heat of his breath despite the cold. "Because I saw the way you looked at me, too."

  I stiffen.

  "You pitied me," he sneers. "Like I was something fragile. But you—" his eyes bore into me, peeling back every layer, "—you don't get to do that."

  The accusation slams into me.

  "You think because you've seen a glimpse of the real world, you understand cruelty? That you know what it feels like?" His lips curl, his words poisonous. "You don't. You never have. You don't know what it's like to walk into a room and feel the air turn against you. To be hated before you've even spoken. To be treated like less for something you never chose." His hands curl into fists, his shoulders rigid with rage. "You will never know what it means to be despised for existing."

  Something inside me snaps.

  "You want to talk about assumptions?" I step forward, refusing to let him tower over me. "You—who decided me an inconvenience the moment you saw me?" My pulse roars like thunder. "That innkeeper looked at you and saw a demon. That's all he cared to see." My breath is ragged, but I force the words out anyway. "And you did the same damn thing to me."

  His eyes shutter.

  "You stand there and talk like you have any idea what my life has been," I press, voice shaking with something too raw to contain. "You think you know me? That you have me all figured out?" My hands curl into fists at my sides. "That makes you no better than him"

  Rael doesn't move. Doesn't speak. But I see it—a shift in his gaze, something sharp and fleeting, before his expression locks back into ice. Without another word, he turns and stalks away.

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  Inside the manor, my aunt Lysandra sits across from me, swirling wine in her goblet. When we arrived, a servant had ushered us inside, though I saw how she looked at Rael. The same way my aunt and uncle do now.

  Displeased.

  "You'll have to forgive the state of things," Uncle Lawrence states, motioning toward the hissing hearth as water drips into it. "Storms like these tend to cause trouble with the roof."

  Rael, beside me, says nothing.

  Lysandra pours a goblet of wine, passing it to me. "I'm afraid we don't receive royal visitors often," she says lightly, eyeing Rael. "And never one in such... company."

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  I take the goblet, fingers tightening.

  Lawrence clears his throat. "It's been some time since we last saw you, princess. You were, what, twelve?"

  "Thirteen," I correct softly.

  "Ah." He nods. "You've grown."

  Lysandra's lips curve, amusement glinting in her eyes. "And yet, I can still see traces of that little girl who made flower crowns in the garden."

  I let out a soft laugh. "You remember that?"

  "Of course. You wore them everywhere. Even to formal dinners."

  My smile falters as she looks at Rael. "And you--how long have you been at her side?"

  Rael holds her gaze, his voice smooth. "Since we left the palace."

  "How dutiful."

  "Necessary," he corrects.

  An uncomfortable silence settles.

  Perhaps sensing the undercurrent in the room, Lawrence shifts forward. "Well, I expect you've had a long journey." His gaze flickers toward Rael. "I'm sure you'd like a moment to see to yourself."

  Rael hesitates before nodding. He casts me a brief glance, then disappears through the arched doorway.

  The moment he leaves, the warmth in Lysandra's face fades, replaced by something far more calculating. She lifts her goblet, swirling the wine within.

  "I was surprised when we received the letter," she muses, taking a slow sip. "An engagement—how unexpected. And only the noble houses seem to have been informed. Quite unusual, don't you think?"

  I keep my posture straight, ignoring the unease coiling in my stomach. "My father is doing what's best."

  Lysandra exhales, setting her goblet down with a soft clink. "Is he? Tell me, do you understand the politics of Varethia? The structure of its courts? The customs of its nobility? Or are you walking blindly into a den of vipers, trusting that your little demon guard will keep you safe?"

  My fingers tighten around the fabric of my dress. "I know what I need to."

  She lets out a quiet scoff. "I highly doubt that."

  I take a breath, forcing my voice to remain even. "There were no books on Varethia in the palace. All I know is what my mother has told me."

  Lysandra's brows lift. "No books?" A pause. "How strange. There used to be plenty. Histories, political records, trade agreements..." She tilts her head, her gaze sharp. "Why do you think they were removed?"

  The question lingers, the weight of it pressing into my chest. I try to think of a reasonable answer, but before I can respond, Lysandra continues, her voice as smooth as silk yet edged with venom.

  "You are to be their envoy, yet you know nothing. Did your mother not prepare you? Or did she simply not care?"

  My chest tightens. "That isn't true."

  "Isn't it?" Her brow arches, fingers drumming lightly against the table. "You must see why this is rather suspicious. A treaty sealed with a bride instead of land or coin? That's not diplomacy—it's a gamble. And you, are the stake."

  I clench my hands in my lap. "I may not know everything, but—"

  "Oh, don't be foolish." She waves a dismissive hand. "You know nothing. They want you ignorant and weak. You are a pretty doll they will dress up for the occasion, and then—" she flicks her fingers in a careless gesture "—well, I do wonder if your new husband will even bother keeping you."

  Rael's voice echoes in my mind. 'You know nothing, do you?'

  Lysandra refills her glass, watching me. "The last queen of Varethia was a human bride, like you. Chosen, adorned, paraded through the courts. But then—" she takes a slow sip "—one day, she was gone. No mourning bells. No funeral. Not even a whisper of her name in the years since."

  My knuckles glow white.

  "Some say she ran. Others—" a pause, a smirk, "—say she was removed."

  A chill slithers down my spine. "Why?"

  Lysandra tilts her head. "Perhaps she failed him. Perhaps she displeased him. Or perhaps—" her smirk vanishes, gaze darkening "—she was never meant to survive him."

  My throat constricts.

  "And now there is you." A sharp smile. "Tell me, what exactly do you bring to Varethia's throne? Do you have power? Influence?"

  I lift my chin. "I—"

  She cuts me off with a laugh, shaking her head. "No, you don't. A girl with no knowledge, no preparation. A lamb dressed in silk, sent to the slaughter."

  The words land like a slap, but I refuse to break.

  She leans forward, eyes gleaming. "You think you're strong? That you understand the weight of the crown—the cost of duty? You're a child playing princess while the world sharpens its teeth. Do you have any idea what you've agreed to?"

  "Aunt Lys—"

  "You believe you're making some noble sacrifice, but tell me—what will you do when your husband turns cold? When you're nothing more than another pawn in his court, a piece to be moved or discarded at his whim? Do you think kindness will save you then?"

  "The King's Blade—"

  "—is a Varethian. One of them. Not your protector, not your ally. You can cling to him all you like, but what happens when he is not there to catch you; when you stand before the demon King alone, with no one to shield you from what he truly is?"

  My nails bite into my palms. I search for a response, but I have none.

  My uncle places a hand on her shoulder. "Lysandra, perhaps—"

  "No, she must hear this." she rises from her seat, circling the table with slow, deliberate steps. "You walk into this marriage blind, thinking loyalty will save you. Only power will. But power is taken. Fought for. Bled for. And you? You will be torn apart if you go to Varethia as you are now—soft-hearted, wide-eyed, foolish."

  Jade eyes bore into mine as she forces my chin upward, our gazes locking. "You were raised in a golden cage, niece." She coos, twirling a strand of my hair around her finger. "But cages are nothing compared to chains. And when they lock around your wrists, when you realize you have no choice, no voice, no way out—only then will you understand what it means to be powerless."

  I blink away the burning in my eyes, my throat tight.

  Her voice softens, but it stings all the same. "You are an offering, Selene. A pretty little trinket to be displayed and discarded when they tire of you."

  I want to argue, to insist that I'm not some unsophisticated child playing at politics. But the truth is, I don't know. About Varethia, about Rael, about anything beyond what little I have been told.

  Lysandra tilts her head, observing me with quiet pity. "They sent you straight into a pit of vipers, and you're na?ve enough to think they won't bite."

  I rise abruptly, keeping my chin high even as my hands tremble. "Thank you for your hospitality," I state, steadier than I feel. "I wish to retire for the night."

  I walk out before she can say anything else, before my composure can crumble completely, but as I step into the quiet corridor, a whisper of doubt needles into my mind.

  You were not prepared for this.