Theron's POV
I was going to kill Lysander Corvith today.
My hand gripped the armrest of my throne so hard my knuckles turned white. Five years. Five long years I'd waited for this moment. Five years since that monster exposed my mother's affair to the entire court, making sure everyone knew she'd betrayed my father. Five years since I watched them drag her to the execution platform while she screamed my name, begging me to save her.
I couldn't save her then. I was only twenty-two, barely holding onto my position as crown prince while the nobles circled like vultures. But now? Now I had the power. Now I could make Lysander pay for every tear my mother shed, every nightmare that still woke me up screaming.
"Your Highness," Commander Wright said, bowing low. "The prisoner has arrived."
"Bring him in." My voice came out cold and hard. Good. I wanted Lysander to hear the ice in my words and know exactly what was coming.
The throne room doors opened with a heavy groan. My heart pounded with anticipation. Finally. Finally, I'd see fear in those cruel ice-blue eyes. Finally, I'd watch him beg.
Six guards marched in, dragging someone between them. My breath caught.
That couldn't be Lysander.
The man stumbling between the guards had Lysander's platinum hair and perfect face, but everything else was wrong. His shoulders hunched forward like he was trying to make himself smaller. His ice-blue eyes darted around the throne room with genuine terror, not the calculating coldness I remembered. His hands—cuffed behind his back—trembled so badly I could see it from across the room.
Lysander Corvith never trembled. Never showed fear. Never looked at anyone like they could actually hurt him.
"Closer," I commanded, narrowing my eyes.
The guards shoved him forward. He stumbled, almost falling to his knees before catching himself. When he looked up at me, I saw something in his expression that made my stomach twist uncomfortably.
Guilt. Real, raw guilt that made his eyes shine with unshed tears.
This had to be a trick. Lysander was a master manipulator. He'd probably practiced this pathetic act in the mirror, knowing I'd have him arrested eventually.
"Duke Lysander Corvith," I said, letting each word drip with venom. "Do you know why you're here?"
"Yes." His voice cracked. Actually cracked, like he was fighting not to cry. "I know what I did. I know you have every right to—to execute me."
My eyes widened slightly. Lysander admitting guilt? Accepting punishment?
Definitely a trick.
"Oh, you know, do you?" I leaned forward, studying him carefully. "Tell me, what exactly did you do?"
He flinched like I'd slapped him. "I exposed your mother's affair. I made sure the whole court knew, knowing it would get her killed. I destroyed your family for political gain." His voice dropped to barely a whisper. "I'm sorry. I know that doesn't fix anything, but I'm sorry."
Silence crashed through the throne room like a physical force.
Lysander Corvith never apologized. Never admitted wrongdoing. Never showed remorse for the dozens of lives he'd ruined. He wore his cruelty like armor, smiling while people suffered because of him.
But this man standing before me—this man looked like he wanted the ground to swallow him whole.
"Commander Wright," I said slowly, never taking my eyes off Lysander. "Leave us. Everyone out."
"Your Highness, I don't think—"
"Out. Now."
The guards hesitated, clearly worried about leaving me alone with a dangerous criminal. But I was the crown prince. They had no choice. One by one, they filed out, the heavy doors closing behind them with a boom that echoed through the empty room.
Now it was just me and the monster who killed my mother.
I stood from my throne and walked down the steps slowly, deliberately, watching Lysander's reaction. He didn't try to run. Didn't try to attack. Just stood there with his head slightly bowed, hands cuffed behind his back, looking like he expected me to kill him right here.
Maybe I would.
I circled him like a predator sizing up prey. Up close, I could see the fear wasn't fake. His pulse hammered visibly in his throat. His breathing came too fast, too shallow. Every muscle in his body tensed like he was waiting for a blow.
"Look at me," I commanded.
He raised his head slowly, and those ice-blue eyes met mine. Five years ago, those eyes had been cold and calculating, watching my mother's execution with barely hidden satisfaction. Now they were wide and frightened and filled with something that looked horribly like genuine remorse.
"What game are you playing?" I asked quietly, dangerously. "What's your angle? Did you think acting pathetic would earn you mercy?"
"No game." His voice shook. "I don't expect mercy. I just wanted to tell you I'm sorry before you—before you do what you need to do."
I grabbed his throat suddenly, slamming him backward against a marble pillar. He gasped but didn't fight back, didn't try to break free. Just stood there letting me crush his windpipe, tears finally spilling from his eyes.
"My mother screamed for three hours while they tortured her," I hissed into his face, tightening my grip. "Three hours because you told everyone her secret. She begged them to kill her faster. Begged them to just end it. Do you know what that did to me? Watching her suffer and being powerless to stop it?"
"I know," he choked out, tears streaming down his perfect face. "I know and I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Theron."
He used my name. Not "Your Highness" or "Crown Prince." My actual name, spoken with such desperate sincerity that something cracked in my chest.
This wasn't Lysander. Couldn't be. The real Lysander would be smirking right now, even with my hand around his throat. He'd say something cruel about how my mother deserved what she got. He'd try to manipulate me with calculated words, not broken apologies.
So what was this? A breakdown? Had the guilt finally eaten away at him after five years?
Or was this the most elaborate manipulation he'd ever attempted?
I released his throat and stepped back. He collapsed against the pillar, coughing and gasping for air. Red marks bloomed on his pale skin where my fingers had been.
"Stand up," I ordered.
He struggled to his feet, still cuffed, still shaking. Still looking at me with those guilty, terrified eyes that made me want to—
Want to what? Forgive him? Never. Believe him? Impossible.
"I'm going to ask you questions," I said coldly. "And you're going to answer honestly. Lie to me even once, and I'll have you executed so slowly you'll beg for death by the end. Understand?"
He nodded quickly. "I understand. I'll tell you anything you want to know."
"Why did you do it? Why expose my mother?"
His face crumpled with shame. "Duke Harrington offered me his daughter's hand in marriage and control of three provinces if I destroyed your family's reputation. I wanted the power." His voice broke. "I sold your mother's life for political gain. There's no excuse. I was a monster."
Was. Past tense. Like he thought he wasn't that person anymore.
"And now?" I asked, searching his face for any sign of deception. "What changed? Why the sudden guilt?"
"I—" He hesitated, and for a moment something flickered across his expression. Confusion? Fear? "I woke up and realized what I'd become. All the people I'd hurt, the lives I'd destroyed. I couldn't live with it anymore. I can't be that person anymore."
There was something off about his answer. Something he wasn't saying. But the emotion behind it felt genuine—the self-loathing, the desperate need for redemption.
I'd spent five years imagining this moment. Imagining Lysander on his knees, begging for mercy while I slowly destroyed him the way he'd destroyed my family. I'd planned out every torture, every way to make him suffer.
But this broken, guilt-ridden man in front of me wasn't the monster I'd been planning to destroy.
And that made everything so much more complicated.
"You'll stay in the palace," I said finally, making a decision I'd probably regret. "Under guard. Under my direct supervision. I'm not done figuring out what you're playing at."
Hope flickered in his eyes. "You're not executing me?"
"Not yet." I stepped closer, grabbing his chin roughly and forcing him to meet my gaze. "But make no mistake, Duke Corvith. You belong to me now. Your life, your freedom, your every breath—all mine. If this is an act, I'll discover it. And when I do, your death will make my mother's execution look merciful. Are we clear?"
"Crystal clear," he whispered.
I released him and turned away, walking back toward my throne. "Commander Wright!"
The doors opened and the guards filed back in, looking relieved to see me unharmed.
"Take the prisoner to the north tower. Give him a room, not a cell. Post guards at his door. He's not to leave without my explicit permission."
"Your Highness?" Wright looked confused. "You're not—"
"Executing him? Not today." I sat back down on my throne, projecting cold authority even though my mind was racing. "He's more useful alive. For now."
The guards grabbed Lysander's arms again, pulling him toward the door. He looked back at me one last time, and I saw something in his eyes that made my pulse quicken.
Relief. Gratitude. And something else I couldn't quite identify.
As the doors closed behind him, I slumped back in my throne, pressing my fingers to my temples. What had I just done? I'd had my mother's killer right there, helpless and ready to die. I should have executed him immediately.
But something stopped me. Something about the way he'd looked at me—not with Lysander's usual cruel calculation, but with genuine human emotion.
Either he'd become the greatest actor in the empire overnight, or something fundamental had changed in Duke Lysander Corvith.
And I needed to figure out which before I made a decision I couldn't take back.
A servant rushed in, bowing quickly. "Your Highness, urgent news."
"What is it?"
"Sir Caius Wrenhart has returned to the capital. He's heard that Duke Corvith has been arrested. He's..." The servant swallowed nervously. "He's demanding to be the one to execute him. He's at the palace gates now, and he won't take no for an answer."
My blood ran cold.
Caius. The knight Lysander had tortured for six months during the border wars. The man who still woke up screaming from nightmares. The most broken, dangerous soldier in my entire army.
And he was here for revenge.