Sophie had almost convinced herself she was safe.
The firelight in her chamber had burned low, casting warm shadows across the rug as she curled in her chair with a book open on her lap. The words blurred; she hadn't read more than two lines in the last hour. Her mind replayed Draven's voice over and over: Remove her before she grows roots too deep.
She pressed a trembling hand against her chest. I can't tell him yet. Not until I know what he'll do with the truth.
The soft click of her chamber door made her freeze.
Sophie's head snapped up. Eira had left moments earlier, promising to return with food. There was no reason for anyone else to come—unless…
Alexander stepped inside.
He didn't knock. He didn't speak. He simply closed the door behind him with deliberate calm, the faint scrape of the lock echoing far too loud in the quiet chamber.
Sophie's breath caught. He stood in the half-darkness, shadows sharpening the line of his jaw, his broad shoulders still cloaked in black. His presence filled the room like a storm pressing against the windows.
"Your Majesty," Sophie said quickly, forcing her voice steady. "You startled me."
His eyes met hers, and she knew instantly—something was wrong. His gaze wasn't curious tonight. It wasn't merely watchful. It was knowing.
"You were in the eastern gallery last night," Alexander said. His voice was low, but it struck her like a blade. "With your handmaid."
The words hollowed her chest. Her throat tightened.
Sophie fought for composure. "I—I don't know what you mean."
A humorless smile curved his lips, though there was no warmth in it. He moved closer, slow, deliberate steps that sent her pulse racing.
"Don't lie to me, Sophie." His voice was velvet and steel all at once. "One of my men saw you slip into the servants' passage. You hid behind the stag statue. You listened."
Her hands gripped the edges of her chair, knuckles white. He knew everything.
Alexander stopped just in front of her, his shadow falling over her like a cloak. He bent slightly, lowering his face until their eyes locked. The nearness of him sent her heart into chaos—fear warring with a treacherous pull she couldn't ignore.
"You risked your life," he said softly, though his tone was edged with danger. "Do you have any idea what Draven would have done if he'd caught you?"
Sophie swallowed hard. "I had to know. Someone has to see what he's planning."
"Someone," Alexander repeated, his jaw tightening. "And you think that someone should be you?"
She lifted her chin, though her pulse thundered in her ears. "Would you rather I sit quietly while they sharpen knives in the shadows? I won't be a pawn in their games."
For a moment, silence stretched. His eyes searched hers—piercing, relentless, as if he could peel away every layer of her secrets.
Then his hand braced suddenly on the arm of her chair, caging her in. Sophie's breath hitched at the sudden closeness. His scent—clean, sharp steel with a hint of spice—wrapped around her. His face hovered inches from hers, the firelight catching in the dark depths of his eyes.
"Careful," Alexander murmured, his voice low and dangerous. "The more you move against them in secret, the more you move against me. Are you my ally, Sophie… or are you my enemy?"
The words should have chilled her, but the intensity in his gaze sent a shiver down her spine of a different kind. She forced herself to meet it, even as her pulse betrayed her.
"I'm not your enemy," she whispered.
For an instant, something flickered in his eyes—something softer, something she couldn't name. But just as quickly it was gone, replaced by that iron mask again.
"You're reckless," he said, his voice rougher now. "And yet…" His eyes dipped briefly to her lips before snapping back to her gaze. "There's fire in you. Fire I cannot decide whether to shield… or to extinguish."
Her breath caught, her heart betraying her with a sharp, aching flutter.
"Why does it have to be one or the other?" Sophie asked before she could stop herself. The words slipped out, trembling but fierce.
For the first time, Alexander stilled. His jaw flexed, his hand tightening slightly on the chair. The air between them thrummed like a bowstring drawn too tight, ready to snap.
Slowly, deliberately, he leaned closer—so close she could feel the warmth of his breath against her cheek. "Because fire," he murmured, voice like smoke, "burns everything it touches."
Sophie's lips parted, but no sound came. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, her body caught in the snare of his presence. Part of her wanted to pull back, to flee. Another part—far more dangerous—wanted to close the distance.
Instead, Alexander pulled away abruptly, straightening to his full height. The loss of his nearness left her dizzy, as though she'd stepped back from the edge of a cliff.
He turned his back to her, his cloak shifting with the movement. "You will not return to the east wing," he said firmly. "Not alone. Not with your maid. If you have questions, you bring them to me."
Sophie's hands curled into fists. "And if you don't answer them?"
He paused, glancing at her over his shoulder. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes—those dark, relentless eyes—lingered on her a heartbeat too long.
"Then you will learn patience," he said at last. "Or you will learn what happens when you test me."
And with that, he left. The door clicked shut behind him, the echo of his words lingering in the air like smoke after fire.
Sophie sat frozen in her chair, her chest heaving. Her body still hummed with the memory of his nearness, her heart tangled in confusion. Fear. Frustration. And something else she dared not name.
She had wanted answers. She had wanted to confront the danger circling them both. Instead, she had collided with Alexander's wrath—and with the dangerous truth that his suspicion of her was bound up with something far more complicated.
Something that made her tremble not only with fear… but with longing.