The morning after their escape, Colden and Marco sat beneath the shade of a willow tree just beyond the city's edge. The sun filtered through the leaves, casting golden light across Marco's face. Colden watched him quietly, fingers brushing his.
"I thought I lost you," Colden whispered.
Marco smiled faintly. "You found me."
They didn't speak of the brothel. Not yet. Not of Wahlberg or the fear that still lingered in Marco's eyes. For now, they let the silence hold them — warm, steady, real.
Back at the castle, the air was colder.
Lady Viremont stood in the east wing, her hands clasped tightly in front of her, lips pressed into a thin line. The summons had been sent. The guards stood at attention.
Carmine entered first, her steps even, her chin high.
Elaine followed moments later, breath shallow, eyes wary.
Viremont turned slowly. "So. The maid and the daughter."
Elaine stepped forward. "Mother, it's not her fault—"
The slap cracked through the room like thunder.
Carmine staggered back, her cheek blooming red.
"How dare you," Viremont hissed. "How dare you raise your voice to nobles. How dare you corrupt my daughter with your filth."
Carmine said nothing, her jaw clenched.
"You think you're special?" Viremont spat. "You're a servant. A shadow. You were born to obey."
Elaine's voice shook. "Stop it—"
"You will be silent," Viremont snapped. "You've embarrassed this family enough."
She turned to the guards. "Take her. Dress her. She's to be locked away until the wedding."
Elaine's eyes widened. "What wedding?"
Viremont didn't flinch. "You're to be wed to the Crown of Velloria. The engagement is sealed."
"No," Elaine whispered. "You can't."
"I can," Viremont said. "And I have."
Elaine stepped back, her breath coming fast. "You said I had a choice."
"You forfeited it," Viremont said coldly. "Now get ready."
Elaine's knees buckled.
The room spun.
And then — darkness.
She collapsed to the floor, unconscious.
Night fell heavy over the castle.
Carmine was gone — taken to the bunkers beneath the east wing, where no light reached and no voices echoed.
Elaine lay in her chambers, pale and silent, her heart a storm of guilt and fury.
The next morning, the gates opened.
Colden rode in, cloak billowing, Marco at his side.
The court gathered in stunned silence.
Lady Viremont stepped forward, her smile brittle. "Your Highness. I trust your journey was—"
"You're dismissed," Colden said.
Viremont blinked. "I beg your pardon?"
"You're relieved of all duties. Effective immediately."
She laughed softly. "Oh, Prince. I hope we meet again."
But when she saw the way Colden looked at Marco — the quiet joy in his eyes — something inside her cracked.
She turned and walked away, her heels echoing like a retreat.
Elaine stood at the top of the stairs, watching.
She wanted to scream. To tell Colden everything. About Carmine. About the cell beneath the castle. About the kiss that still burned on her lips.
But her voice caught in her throat.
Carmine was already gone.
And she was too late.
She stepped forward.
"Colden," she said.
He turned.
And the world held its breath.