The next day, I stood before Darian Treotor in the throne room. Courtiers droned on about 'uniting bloodlines' and 'political stability.'
Darian lounged back in his throne, grey eyes sliding lazily toward me. My defiant stare met his smirk, and he waved a hand to silence the noble mid‑sentence.
'Enough. Lords and Ladies… you're dismissed.'
Protests sputtered, but one raised eyebrow from him sent them scurrying.
Now alone, his gaze lingered on me like I was an amusing puzzle. '…So, how much did that friend of yours tell you?'
I stiffened, arms crossing, jaw tightening. My eyes flicked away for a fraction too long — and Darian caught it. His smirk sharpened.
'Oh, come now. We both know she fed you some scandalous little stories about me. The Countess of Veylora? The ambassador's daughter? Lady Brenette?'
'I don't talk to philanderers.'
His brows shot up, startled by my bluntness. Then his lips curled into a grin, darkly delighted. 'Ah. So she did tell you.'
He rose from the throne, slow deliberate strides bringing him close enough to tilt my chin with one finger. 'You still owe me for biting my hand.'
I scoff as I mock him, 'Oh, poor baby. Want me to kiss that boo‑boo away?'
His smirk faltered for a beat, then he chuckled, leaning in until I could see the flecks of grey in his irises. 'Is that an offer, Duchess?'
'…What?'
'Well? An offer to kiss it better?'
I scoffed, shifting my weight, trying to change the subject. 'Don't call me Duchess. I'm not one. I thought you were supposed to be smart.'
His grin widened, clearly enjoying my flusteredness.
Then I snap, 'Seriously! Why do you want to marry me? Or marry at all? You won't be free if you get married!'
He blinked, studying me intently. Then his grin returned. 'Oh? Do you want me to answer that honestly?'
'Yes.'
He folded his arms, leaning back against the throne, eyes glittering with amusement. 'You're feisty. And I've never met a girl who bit a crown prince and lived to tell the tale. Also you're adorable when you're angry.'
'Oh, come on.'
He chuckled, poking my nose playfully. 'And I'd rather die than marry one of those prim, proper court ladies who only want me for my crown. But you? You have no reason to want it… except maybe for your thieving little hands.'
'Please. Your little conquests say otherwise.'
He barked out a laugh. '…Are you actually jealous of those court ladies, sweetheart?'
'Excuse me?'
He smirked, circling me like a predator. 'Are. You. Jealous?'
'Of course not.'
His grin widened, stepping closer, cutting off my escape. 'Then why do you look so much like a pouting kitten right now?'
'Because I'm being forced to marry a pompous ass!' I snapped, chin tilted high.
Darian barked out a laugh, clearly delighted by my bluntness. He leaned in, fingers tilting my chin so I couldn't look away.
'A pompous ass, am I? And here I thought I was the charming ruler.'
His smirk deepened, eyes glittering with mischief. 'Fine. Let's call off the wedding… if you can answer one last question.'
I narrowed my eyes. 'What question?'
He leaned in, lips brushing dangerously close to my ear, voice low and deliberate. 'Do you really want to leave… or are you just afraid I might actually make you like me?'
'The sky will fall before I like you,' I shot back, chin tilted defiantly.
Darian chuckled, the sound warm and infuriating. 'Oh, darling… I do love a challenge.' He tapped my nose with one finger, just to rile me further.
'Hey!' I snapped, swatting his hand away.
He laughed at my indignation, circling me like a predator savoring the chase. His breath brushed my ear as he murmured, 'You're adorable when you're pissed off.'
I opened my mouth to retort, but the throne room doors swung wide. Two guards entered, dragging a bound figure between them. My breath caught.
It was a thief. One of mine. A boy I'd run jobs with in the alleys of Treotor, his face bruised but unmistakable.
Darian's smirk sharpened into something far more dangerous. 'You see, Vidalia… I don't just want a bride. I want leverage.'
He stepped closer, gaze locking with mine. 'Every thief in this kingdom answers to someone. And now I know exactly who.'
My stomach dropped. He wasn't just toying with me anymore. He was dismantling my world, piece by piece.
'So,' Darian purred, brushing his thumb across my chin, 'shall we continue this little game? Or would you prefer I start with him?'
The prisoner's eyes met mine, wide with fear. My pulse thundered.
And just like that, the game wasn't about marriage or sabotage anymore. It was about survival — mine, and theirs.