The air in the chamber turned razor-sharp.
Eliza had expected this mont. Had known it would co. But that didn’t stop the pulse of dread from curling in her stomach as she t the gaze of the man standing in the doorway.
Elric.
His expression was a mask of cold control, but his eyes pale blue like a winter morning were anything but. They flicked to the necklace at her throat, lingering there, the muscle in his jaw tightening.
[He knows what it ans.]
Eliza swallowed, willing herself to stay still. To breathe. To think.
Raen did not move from her side. His grip on her waist remained firm, his fingers idly tracing the fabric of her gown as if he had all the ti in the world. But Eliza knew better.
This was not laziness.
This was a lion, waiting for his prey to make a mistake.
Elric’s gaze lifted to et Raen’s. “How bold of you.” His voice was deceptively smooth, but the undercurrent of anger was unmistakable. “Did you truly believe you could mark her like so… war prize?”
Raen’s smirk deepened, golden eyes gleaming with amusent. “Did you truly believe you could take her from ?”
Eliza felt the tension coil between them like an unsheathed blade.
Elric stepped forward. “This betrothal is not a matter of pride, Raen. It is law. A union decided by the king himself.”
Raen chuckled, low and dark. “And yet, here she stands. In my chambers. Wearing my gift.” His fingers brushed over the golden collar at her throat, deliberate, possessive. “Tell , Lord Elric, what does that say about your so-called ‘law’?”
Elric’s control cracked. He took another step forward. “You have no right...”
“I have every right.” Raen’s voice turned lethal, and Eliza felt the shift in the room, the promise of violence simring beneath the surface. “She is mine.”
Eliza sucked in a sharp breath.
Elric’s eyes darkened. “And if she does not wish to be?”
Silence.
The question hung in the air, heavy as the storm outside.
Raen turned his head slightly, his gaze flicking down to Eliza. “Is that what you wish, little countess?” he murmured. “To leave ?”
His voice was soft. Intimate. Dangerous.
Eliza’s throat tightened.
[Say it.]
[Say you will go.]
But the words would not co.
Elric stepped closer. “Eliza...”
“She does not speak for you.” Raen’s hand slid to her wrist, his grip a whisper of restraint. “She belongs to , and I do not share.”
Elric’s lips curled into a sharp smile. “That is not your decision.”
The mont shattered.
Raen moved.
Fast. Too fast.
Before Eliza could react, before Elric could even draw his sword, Raen struck. A blur of motion Elric’s back hit the stone wall with a brutal thud, Raen’s forearm pressed against his throat.
“Then let make it clear.” Raen’s voice was a growl, low and rciless. “If you or anyone else tries to take her from , I will not hesitate to spill royal blood.”
Elric’s fingers twitched toward the hilt of his blade, but Raen only pressed harder.
“Careful,” he warned, golden eyes gleaming. “Unless you wish to see how fast I can rip that pretty heart from your chest.”
Eliza’s breath hitched.
Elric’s glare burned into Raen’s, but he did not fight. He knew better.
“Coward,” Raen murmured, releasing him with a sharp shove.
Elric straightened, smoothing the wrinkles from his coat as though nothing had happened. But Eliza saw it—the flicker of sothing else in his eyes.
Not fear.
Not anger.
Sothing darker.
Sothing dangerous.
Raen turned back to her, his expression unreadable. “You should leave,” he told Elric, voice casual. “Before I grow bored of this conversation.”
Elric hesitated, his gaze locking onto Eliza one last ti. Then, with a slow, asured breath, he turned and strode from the room, the heavy door slamming shut behind him.
The mont he was gone, Raen turned to her.
“You didn’t answer my question.”
Eliza swallowed hard. “Which one?”
Raen reached for her, fingers skimming her jaw, his touch deceptively gentle. “Will you leave ?”
She opened her mouth. Closed it.
[Say yes.]
[Say no.]
Instead, she whispered, “Would it matter if I did?”
A slow, wicked smirk. “No.”
Then his lips crashed against hers.
Not soft. Not careful.
A claim. A warning. A chain, tightening around her throat.
Eliza should have pushed him away.
She should have fought.
Instead, she let herself burn.
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