Pride. Joy. Power.
I leaned back in my chair, fingers drumming against the desk. Satisfaction curled in my chest, warm and steady. Elena had no fight left in her today, and I couldn't deny the twisted sense of victory it gave me. Not because I enjoyed breaking her spirit — no, that wasn't it. But keeping her in line? Making her understand that I was in control? That was necessary.
This wasn't just about pride. It was about power — the kind I couldn't afford to lose.
I never wanted this marriage, but I needed it. Without it, my place as heir — as the kingdom's ruler — wasn't guaranteed. I was old enough to take the throne, more than capable of leading, but tradition demanded a union. Marriage to Ivanna had been the condition for my claim to the crown — a condition forced on me by my parents.
Their kingdom had betrayed ours — broken alliances, destroyed trade routes, and nearly crippled us in the past. And yet my parents, in their endless mercy, had insisted on this marriage as some twisted form of peace.
Peace. I scoffed at the word. My parents were far too forgiving. They believed this union was about healing old wounds. I knew better. This was about power — about putting Ivana's family in their place. Marrying her gave me the upper hand, and I'd make sure her people never forgot what they owed mine.
And if that meant she suffered in the process... so be it.
That reminded me — my parents were returning from their vacation tomorrow, and everything had to be perfect. They'd expect the castle spotless, the staff sharp, and Ivanna... obedient.
Pushing back my chair, I stood and left the room. In the kitchen, I found the staff scrambling through their usual chores.
"Prepare a feast tomorrow," I ordered. "Roasted meat, fresh bread, pastries — the best of everything." I paused, then added, "And make sure Ivanna knows she's expected to attend. I want her looking... presentable."
The head maid gave a quick nod before hurrying off.
I lingered in the hallway for a moment longer, hands tucked behind my back. I knew Ivanna wouldn't go down without a fight — she was stubborn, prideful, and far too defiant for her own good.
But it didn't matter. Whether she scowled at me or cursed me under her breath, she'd still obey.
Because if Ivanna wanted to survive this marriage without more suffering, she'd learn to play her role.
And I'd make sure of it.
Dinner was quiet. Too quiet.
I sat at the head of the table, barely touching the food on my plate. The roasted meat, the wine, the warm bread — none of it seemed to have any taste. Not that I cared. My focus kept shifting to Ivanna, seated at the other end of the table.
She barely said a word the entire evening, only speaking when necessary. Even then, her voice was flat — emotionless, like she was forcing herself to exist in the room without truly being part of it. She hardly ate either, just picked at her food, her fork scraping lightly against her plate.
Fine by me. The silence was better than another argument.
When dinner ended, I expected her to storm off like she usually did — slamming doors, stomping her feet, finding some way to defy me even in the simplest of moments. But instead, as if she already knew what was coming, she quietly pushed back her chair and walked straight to the piano.
I leaned back, watching her from across the room. Her fingers hovered over the keys for a moment before they began to move, slow and deliberate. The first few notes were soft — almost hesitant — but then the melody grew stronger, richer.
The song... it wasn't loud or flashy. It wasn't the type of performance meant to impress a crowd. No, it was something else entirely — something personal.
I found myself staring, caught off guard by the way she played. Her fingers glided over the keys, each note flowing seamlessly into the next. Her hair, dark and sleek, slid down her back in soft waves, catching the candlelight just right. She didn't look broken or beaten down like she had this morning. No — she looked... strong. Almost victorious.
I hated that.
I shifted in my chair, dragging my gaze away from her. It doesn't matter, I reminded myself. Whatever strength she thought she had wouldn't last. She could play her little song and pretend she was above this all she wanted — but I still owned her fate.
Yet even as I told myself that, my eyes drifted back to her. The music had shifted, slowing into something softer — something that clung to the air like a whisper. It tugged at something inside me — something I couldn't explain and didn't want to.
I clenched my jaw and tried to focus on anything else — the flickering candles, the faint clink of plates being cleared by the servants — but no matter what I did, my eyes kept finding their way back to her.
Five minutes. Ten, maybe. I wasn't sure how long I sat there, quietly watching.
Pull yourself together, I scolded myself. I didn't care about her music, or her hair, or the way she somehow managed to look so composed after everything I'd put her through.
None of that mattered.
And yet... I couldn't shake the feeling that, somehow, Ivanna knew exactly what she was doing. Like she was playing that song not for herself, but for me — just to remind me that no matter how
much I tried to control her...
She wasn't broken yet.