I winced in pain as I woke up, bandages wrapped around my wound. I looked around, trying to figure out where I was, and realized I was in my room. When I tried to stand, someone quickly helped me up. I turned and saw Olivia. She was smiling, but when I looked into her eyes, they were sad and hollow, like she believed this was her fault.
I knew it wasn't, and I had to make that clear to her.
"Hey, it's okay. It was not your fault," I said softly. "I wanted to protect you, and I know it comes with consequences. And you're my future sister-in-law, so why not?"
She let out a small laugh and continued to help me walk.
I suddenly froze and turned to her. "Do you know where Axel is?"
She glanced at me, then quickly dropped her gaze to the floor.
"He's busy," she said.
"Busy doing what, Olivia?" I pressed.
"He is… um, just busy. He didn't tell me what he was doing. You should let it go, Rome. It's no big deal."
Huh.
I moved around my room to find my slippers, and once I found them, I walked to the door.
"Wait, Rome, where are you going?"
"I'm going to find him."
"Wait, Rome, you shouldn't—"
"Olivia, I just want to know where he is, no big deal."
I went out to find where he was. I heard some hushed tones in the study. I didn't want to knock, so I opened the door. I was a bit shocked to find Rowan with some girl, so close that it looked like they were about to kiss. They turned when they saw me, and I finally got a good look at the girl.
She was pretty—blond curly hair, delicate soft pink lips, and big blue eyes that looked kind of wild. I pretended I was unfazed by all of this.
"Well, this is… unexpectedly shitty."
"Rome, we were not—"
Before he could finish, I continued, "No, none of my business. I just came to make sure you're okay, but it looks like you're covered."
Then I turned to the girl. "Take care of him, will you? And make sure no one finds out about this."
I walked out, closing the door behind me before they could utter a word.
I stayed in my room for the next week, doing everything I could to avoid him. Any time Axel came too close, I slipped away before he could say a word. Instead, I spent my days in the garden, curled up with my sketchbook, drawing the landscape as the wind played with my hair. I hummed some nameless tune, letting the rustle of the leaves and the birds' songs drown out the ache in my chest.
Olivia found me there, of course. She always did.
She stepped into the garden, eyes already shining with guilt, her mouth parting to apologize—but I lifted a hand to stop her.
"Hey, it's okay," I said quietly. "You didn't know he was being a lying dick, so why hold it against you, Olivia?"
Her lips wobbled as if she might cry, but I couldn't bring myself to comfort her—not this time.
"If he wants to fix his mistakes," I added, turning back to my drawing, "he can do it himself. He shouldn't send his sister to do it for him."
So I kept sketching, letting my pencil glide over the page as the birds hummed through the trees. The music of the garden wrapped around me, soft and steady, the only thing that still felt honest.
I was getting up to leave after so much drawing, and for a moment, it felt like the whole world had gone still just for me. The garden was quiet in that soft, golden way, like even the wind was too polite to disturb the peace. I loved it. Out here, I could almost forget that my life wasn't really my own.
Reluctantly, I closed my sketchbook and brushed the dirt off my dress. The palace loomed in the distance, beautiful and unforgiving. I walked back to my room, every step a reminder that no matter how serene the day was, every night I was still forced to sleep in the same room as him—whether I liked it or not.
I pushed open the door and let out a slow breath. At least there was the bath.
Steam curled gently from the surface of the water, carrying the faint scent of rose and lavender. I slipped out of my clothes and sank into the warmth, letting it swallow me whole. The heat melted the tension from my muscles, wrapping around me like a familiar embrace. For a few precious seconds, there was nothing but water and silence.
Then that feeling crept in.
That numb, prickling awareness at the back of my neck.
Like someone was watching me.
I cracked one eye open and glanced up.
Axel was there.
He stood just inside the room, leaning casually against the doorframe as if this were the most normal thing in the world. His dark hair was a little mussed, his shirt slightly undone at the collar, and he wore that infuriating almost-smile that made him look like he was permanently amused by everyone else's suffering—especially mine.
Of course.
He didn't say anything at first. Just watched me, his eyes soft but unreadable.
I knew I couldn't leave—not without giving him the exact satisfaction he wanted. I was naked, practically submerged, and the last thing I was going to do was scramble out of the tub like some flustered girl in a bad play. So I held his gaze, lifted my chin, and refused to flinch.
"Hey," he said finally, voice low, the faintest hint of a smile curling at his lips. "I wanted to talk to you. But you keep avoiding me. Why?"
I rolled my eyes and let myself sink deeper into the tub until the warm water closed over my ears. I stayed there, counting the seconds in my head.
One. Two. Three.
I wasn't going to let him see how much his question rattled me.
Seven. Eight. Nine.
Ten.
I pushed back up, water dripping from my curls, my lungs burning slightly. I wiped my face with one hand, refusing to look at him right away.
"Well," I said finally, my voice sharper than I intended, "seeing you with your girlfriend was… fascinating." I reached for the edge of the tub, my fingers tracing the smooth marble. "And me covering for you was just because I felt sorry. Don't mistake that for loyalty."
Silence stretched between us like a drawn bowstring.
When I finally forced myself to look at him, the amused glint in his eyes was gone. His jaw was clenched, and something like hurt flickered there—so quick I almost thought I'd imagined it.
"Girlfriend?" he repeated, his tone flat. "Is that what you think she is?"
I shrugged, feigning indifference even as my heart thudded hard against my ribs. "I don't know. I just know you looked… comfortable. Close. Close enough to forget you had a fiancée upstairs bleeding out over your kingdom."
His eyes darkened. "You don't know what you saw."
"Oh, I'm sorry," I shot back, heat rising in my chest. "Did I misinterpret the part where you almost kissed her? Or the part where you looked at her like she was the only person in the world?"
He stepped closer, and for a moment, I forgot I was in a bath at all. The air between us tightened.
"Rome," he said quietly, "if I wanted you to think she was my girlfriend, I wouldn't have stopped when you walked in."
I hated that his words made something falter inside me.
I hated that I even cared.
I looked away, blinking at the ripples in the water. "You don't get to do this," I murmured. "You don't get to act as if you care and then disappear. You weren't there when I woke up. Olivia was. Everyone else was. You? 'Busy.'" I let the word curl with disdain. "So forgive me if I don't have the energy to sit here and listen to your excuses."
He was quiet for a long heartbeat.
"I was fighting," he said finally. "Finishing what you started. There were still rebels inside the city walls. I was putting down the last of them." He exhaled slowly. "I know it doesn't erase the fact that you got hurt. But I didn't just walk away and go… fool around, Rome."
His voice dropped on my name, and I hated that it sounded almost gentle.
"Then who was she?" I asked, softer this time, despite myself.
He hesitated.
"Her name is Liora," he said at last. "She's a strategic adviser. One of my mother's best spies." His expression shifted, jaw tightening again. "She was giving me information about a possible insider helping the rebels. When you walked in, she was trying to convince me to handle the situation her way. That's it."
I swallowed. "And the way she was standing half a breath away from your mouth?"
His lips twitched—not quite a smile. "Liora flirts with power like it's her native language. She throws herself at anything with a crown. I've never kissed her. I'm not going to."
Something unpleasant and traitorous fluttered in my chest.
"Why should I believe you?" I asked.
He looked at me then—not like a prince, not like a future king—but like a boy who'd been handed a crown at the exact moment he wanted to drop everything and run.
"Because," he said slowly, "if I wanted to kiss someone… I wouldn't be sneaking around in studies with half-blood spies."
The way he said it made the tiny hairs on the back of my neck stand up.
I swallowed, suddenly very aware of how close he was to the tub.
"Axel," I said warningly, "don't you dare turn this into some—"
"I'm not," he cut in, hands lifting slightly as if to show he meant no harm. "I just… wanted to explain. You've spent an entire week pretending I don't exist. Do you have any idea how many times I've walked into a room to find you already halfway out the door?"
"I'm talented," I muttered.
He huffed out a breath that might have been a laugh.
"I noticed."
He studied me for another long moment, his gaze dropping briefly to the pink edge of my knees visible through the water before he dragged it firmly back up to my face.
"I'll turn around," he said suddenly. "So you can get dressed. But after that, you're not running away again."
I blinked. "Who said I agreed to talk to you?"
"I did." His mouth quirked. "And you've stabbed enough people this week that I think you've used up your quota of dramatic exits."
A reluctant, treacherous smile tugged at the corner of my lips.
"Fine," I sighed. "Turn around, then. And if you peek, I'll tell Olivia you cried during battle."
His eyes widened in mock horror. "You are cruel."
"I'm a princess," I corrected. "It's in the job description."
He actually did turn his back, which surprised me more than it should have. I waited a second just to be sure, then rose carefully from the bath, water cascading down my skin. I wrapped myself in a robe, tying it tightly before stepping onto the cool floor.
"All right," I said. "You can look now."
He turned, eyes sweeping over me for the briefest heartbeat before he caught himself, focusing determinedly somewhere near my shoulder.
Coward.
"So," I said, crossing my arms, "you've explained your mysterious not‑girlfriend. That still doesn't change the fact that your mother treats me like breeding stock and you just… let her."
His expression hardened.
"You think I like this?" he asked quietly. "You think I enjoy watching her parade you around like a promise she owns?"
"Don't you?" I shot back. "It benefits you, doesn't it? You get a kingdom and a wife and an heir all bundled together in a nice little deal."
His jaw flexed.
"Rome," he said, and this time my name sounded almost like a warning, "you are not a deal to me."
Something in his voice made it difficult to breathe.
"Then what am I?"
He hesitated—as if the wrong answer might shatter something between us for good.
"You're the girl who kills rebels in her own hallways," he said slowly. "Who drags my sister into hidden passages and risks her life for people who don't deserve it. You're the one who still hums with the birds after being stabbed in the stomach." His gaze softened. "You're the person I woke up holding this morning and didn't want to let go of."
My heart stuttered.
"That doesn't mean I know how to fix this," he added quickly. "My mother isn't someone I can just… defy in front of two kingdoms without blood spilling over the floor. But don't ever think I see you as some… obligation."
The room felt suddenly smaller.
"You still didn't come see me," I whispered, because even after everything he'd said, that little fact still sat like a stone in my chest.
He inhaled sharply.
"I stood outside your door the first night," he admitted. "The healers wouldn't let anyone in except Olivia and your parents. The second night, you were unconscious." He paused, looking away for the first time. "The third night, I walked in, and you were sleeping. You looked… peaceful. I didn't want to be the one to wake you up to all of this."
All of this.
The arranged marriage. The expectations. The war. Him.
I pressed my lips together.
"Coward," I said softly.
He smiled faintly. "Maybe. Or maybe I just knew that the second you woke up, you'd start fighting again. And I wanted you to have one more night without needing to."
The worst part was that I understood.
"Still a dickhead," I muttered.
"Completely fair," he replied.
We stood there for a moment in reluctant truce, the steam slowly fading from the bath and the afternoon light shifting against the stone walls.
Finally, he cleared his throat.
"There's going to be a council meeting," he said. "About the rebels. About the attack. About us." A muscle ticked in his jaw. "My mother wants to move the wedding up."
I felt the floor tilt.
"How far up?" I asked carefully.
"Three days."
My heart dropped to my feet.
"Three days?" I repeated. "Is she insane?"
"Possibly," he said. "But she also thinks securing the alliance quickly will discourage more attacks. If we're married, the kingdoms look stronger. Less vulnerable."
"Stronger," I echoed bitterly. "Or more trapped."
He didn't argue.
"So this is it?" I whispered. "I get three days to stop being just me."
He looked at me for a long moment, something unreadable moving behind his eyes.
"No," he said at last. "You get three days to decide how much of you you're willing to give them. The rest…" His voice dropped. "The rest you keep. With or without me."
I wasn't sure when he'd become someone who said things like that. I wasn't sure when I'd started listening.
"So what happens now?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
"Now," he said, offering me his hand, "you get dressed. You walk into that council room with your head high and your tiara straight. You let them think you're unshakeable."
I blinked.
Those were my own words.
Look up, Rome. Make them believe you are unshakeable.
He must have heard me that night.
"Come with me," he added quietly. "We'll face them together this time. No more running away. From either side."
I stared at his hand for a heartbeat that felt far too long.
Then I slipped my fingers into his.
His grip was warm and steady, and for the first time since the rebels had stormed my palace—since I'd woken up with a sword wound and a future I hadn't chosen—I felt something that almost resembled courage.
Three days.
Three days to decide what kind of queen I would be.
Three days to decide whether the enemy prince at my side was truly my enemy at all.
I straightened my shoulders.
"Fine," I said. "Let's go disappoint your mother."
His smile was quick and genuine.
"With pleasure, Princess."