As I stepped out of the bath, warm steam curling around my skin, I froze.
Axel stood there.
He was leaning against the bedpost, watching me with no expression at all—no embarrassment, no surprise. Just those unreadable eyes fixed on me. A shiver ran down my spine, and not from the cold.
"Good gracious, Axel, stop staring and leave," I snapped, clutching the towel tighter around myself.
He only smirked, as if he'd seen a thousand naked girls before and I was nothing new. The casualness of it made my cheeks burn.
"Look," I said sharply, "we may be sharing a chamber because of your mother, but at least have the decency to let me dress in private."
He shrugged, completely unbothered, and finally turned away, stepping out of the room without another word.
I exhaled slowly, my heart racing. The nerve of that man.
I slipped into my short black nightgown and tied my matching silk robe around my waist. My slippers sank softly into the carpet as I crossed to the mirror. I brushed through my curly hair until it fell in loose waves over my shoulders, anything to calm the chaos in my head.
All I wanted was sleep.
But when I walked back to the bed, Axel was already there—shirtless, in only his pants, like he owned the place. Which, technically, he might, one day. I ignored the heat rising in my cheeks and said nothing. I didn't want to start a fight, not tonight.
So I slipped into the bed beside him, careful to keep to my side. The mattress dipped under his weight, the space between us charged and tense. I was just beginning to relax when his arm slid around my waist.
He pulled me closer.
My breath caught in my throat. I opened my mouth to protest, to tell him exactly what I thought of his arrogant royal self—
The door burst open.
I flinched, and Axel's hand dropped away as we both turned. Queen Lucia stood there, her eyes sweeping over us: me in my nightgown, Axel shirtless, the two of us sharing a bed.
She smiled.
Pure satisfaction. She looked like she had just won a war.
"Good," she said softly, almost to herself, clearly assuming we were following through on the agreement—conceiving an heir, just as the kingdoms had arranged.
Before I could speak, before I could explain that nothing had happened, she closed the door and left.
Silence filled the room.
Axel let go of me completely and turned his back, putting as much distance between us as the bed would allow. I stared at the back of his neck, at the slight tension in his shoulders.
The nerve of this guy.
Sometime in the night, sleep finally claimed me.
When I woke, the room was bathed in soft morning light. For a moment, I didn't know where I was. Then I felt it.
Strong arms around me.
I was no longer pressed against Axel's back—I was facing him. My cheek rested against his bare chest, his warmth surrounding me. His scent—clean, warm, undeniably masculine—filled my lungs. His body was pressed firmly against mine, every line of him solid and real.
His heartbeat thudded steadily under my ear, calm and sure, like nothing in the world could shake him.
Our noses were almost touching.
I didn't dare move. If I shifted even a little, it would look like I was clinging to him. Like I wanted this. Like I was forcing myself on him.
I forced my gaze down, trying to ignore how perfect his jaw looked from this close.
"Enjoying the view, huh?"
His deep, husky voice rumbled through his chest before I even realized he was awake. His arm tightened around my waist, pulling me even closer.
For a second, I forgot how to breathe.
I stared up at him, suddenly aware of how tightly his arms were wrapped around me. Carefully, I eased myself out of his hold and slipped from the bed, my heart still racing. I set the tiara atop my head, its weight familiar and strangely comforting, then hurried outside, needing air—needing space.
The royal gardens greeted me like an old friend. I scattered seeds from my hand, watching the birds gather around my feet, their soft chirps weaving into a gentle melody. Here, I could finally breathe. No queens. No princes. No expectations.
I hummed along with the birds' song, letting the music rise and fall on the morning breeze. Sunlight spilled through the trees, glimmering across my skin as I spun, my warm brown complexion glowing gold beneath the rays. My curly black hair fanned out around me, wild and free, following every turn. I didn't want to go to breakfast. Not yet. Here in the garden, I was safe. I was happy. This place still felt like home.
Then strong arms wrapped around me from behind.
"Axel," I breathed, already knowing it was him.
He chuckled softly near my ear. "So this is where you escape to play happy palace outside," he said, his tone teasing.
I tried to twist out of his grip, but he only spun me around to face him, his eyes gleaming. "Two can play that game," he murmured.
Before I could argue, he took my hand and spun me again—this time gently, almost tenderly—until I landed right against his chest. His hands settled at my waist as he lifted me just slightly, pulling me closer as if I belonged there.
And then he kissed me.
Slowly. Delicately. Like he was tasting every bit of my strawberry lip gloss and trying to memorize it.
When he finally set me back on my feet, I could only stare up at him, breathless and bewildered, wondering when exactly the enemy prince had become the one person I couldn't quite bring myself to push away.
Breakfast that morning was quiet.
Axel and I sat beneath the flowering arches of the garden, the table laid with silver and crystal that glittered in the soft light. We didn't speak; we didn't need to. The birds did the talking for us, hopping close to steal crumbs, their songs floating gently through the air. I hummed along under my breath, letting the peace of the moment wrap around me like a blanket.
For a heartbeat, it felt like the world had decided to be kind.
Then the world exploded.
A deafening boom shattered the calm. The ground trembled, and my head snapped up just in time to see glass burst from one of the palace windows in a shower of glittering shards. I was already on my feet before my mind could catch up.
Smoke. Screams. Chaos.
I ran.
My legs carried me toward the palace, but I stopped cold when a single, piercing sound cut through the noise.
Olivia.
She screamed, and every part of me answered.
I sprinted toward her voice, rounding a corner so fast I almost slipped. A rebel had her pinned, blade raised, his dark clothes streaked with ash. My gaze darted to the nearest thing I could use—a sword, abandoned against the wall.
My fingers closed around the hilt before I had time to think.
"Get away from her!" I shouted.
He turned just as I swung. Steel met flesh. I didn't hesitate. I kicked him back, fury burning hot in my veins. "Get off my grounds," I hissed, and with one clean strike, it was over.
Olivia stumbled toward me, eyes wide and wet. I grabbed her hand.
"Come with me."
We ran through the smoking corridors, the air thick with dust and the metallic scent of blood. I pulled her into a narrow passage hidden behind a worn tapestry, shoving open the concealed door to one of the old secret rooms.
"Rome, no," she whispered, clutching my arm. "Don't go back out there. You'll get hurt."
I forced a smile I didn't feel. "This is my kingdom," I said softly. "I've trained for this my whole life. I can protect it. But I need you to stay here and keep quiet. Do you understand?"
Her lip trembled, but she nodded. I squeezed her hand once, then slipped out before I could change my mind.
The palace had become a maze of shadows and flames. I moved on instinct—ducking, slashing, blocking—my blade flashing as rebel after rebel fell at my feet. I lost track of how many. I lost track of where I was. There was only the next strike, the next breath, the next heartbeat.
Until I didn't see the step.
A hard shove sent me tumbling down a short flight of stone stairs. Pain shot up my spine as I hit the floor, my sword skidding out of reach. I barely had time to suck in a breath before another rebel was on me.
His blade sliced across my hand as I snatched my sword back, hot blood slicking my fingers. He was stronger, pressing me back blow after blow, forcing me to give ground. My arms shook with the effort of holding him off.
No.
I refused to fall in my own palace.
With a desperate burst of strength, I twisted, letting his weight carry him forward. I landed on my feet and drove my sword across his side, drawing a ragged cry from his lips. I stepped in to finish it—
White-hot pain exploded in my stomach.
I gasped, the world tilting as my knees hit the ground. My sword slipped from my hand. Somewhere far away, someone shouted my name, but it sounded muffled, as if I were underwater.
So this is it, I thought faintly. This is where it ends.
The rebel above me jerked suddenly, eyes going wide. A second later, he crumpled to the floor, a sword driven clean through his back.
I forced my gaze up.
Rowan.
He stood over the fallen rebel, chest heaving, sweat plastering strands of hair to his forehead. When his eyes found mine, relief flooded his face.
"You're not dying on me, Princess," he said, dropping to his knees beside me.
I let out a strained laugh that tasted like iron. "Funny," I whispered. "Because I can feel the stab pretty clearly. I'm… almost sure I'm dying."
He ignored me. Strong arms lifted me from the cold stone as if I weighed nothing. I sagged against his chest, the world blurring at the edges.
"Stay with me," he murmured.
I tried.
Then something warm brushed against my forehead.
Wait.
Did he just—
My eyes flew open in shock. Rowan's lips lingered against my skin for a fraction of a second longer before he pulled back, a crooked smile tugging at his mouth.
"That," he said lightly, "ought to keep you alive."
A weak huff of laughter escaped me. "Really?" I rasped. "That's your plan? Magic kisses now? You're such a dickhead."
His chuckle rumbled through his chest as my eyes drifted shut again. The last thing I felt before the darkness claimed me was the steady beat of his heart and the certainty that, for the moment at least, I was safe.