Chapter 4
Jul 18, 2025
“I… I…” The words barely made it out of my mouth.
My lips moved, but my brain had hit some kind of wall.
The man stood in the doorway like a shadow carved from stone. Broad frame with dusky skin and jet black hair cropped close to his head.
And his eyes—silver, sharp and cold, like frozen fire. Watching me like I was prey. My heart thudded in my chest. Not just from getting caught.
From him.
“I got lost,” I blurted. Pathetic.
He raised an eyebrow. “You don’t look lost.”
“Well,” I straightened. “Maybe you don’t know what ‘lost’ looks like.”
“Maybe not.” He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossing slowly. “But it doesn’t usually wear a slit that high and a face that is determined.”
Heat rushed to my cheeks. “Excuse me?”
He tilted his head. “You climbed four floors, past two locked doors and a rune-marked ward. If that’s your definition of lost, you might need better directions.”
I scowled, trying not to notice how stupidly perfect his jawline was in the torchlight.
“Who says I climbed?”
His eyes flicked to the dirt on the hem of my dress. “Your boots do.”
I cursed under my breath and shifted my weight, trying to cover the mud with the other foot. “Fine. Maybe I wandered a little.”
“Wandered straight into the most off-limits room in the palace?”
“I was… curious.”
He let out a low laugh. It wasn’t mocking. It was worse—it was amused. “About what?”
“None of your business.”
“That book?” He nodded toward the pedestal. “You were about to open it.”
“It looked pretty.” I rolled my eyes. “I like books.”
“Looks more like secrets.”
My breath caught for half a second too long. He stepped into the room now, slow and quiet like a predator that didn’t need to chase.
“I don’t know you,” I said, voice sharper than I meant.
“I’m not surprised.”
I crossed my arms. “You think you’re clever.”
“No,” he said simply. “I think you are.”
My mouth opened. Then shut again. What the hell was that supposed to mean? He moved past me, his shoulder barely brushing mine as he circled the pedestal.
“You’re not like the others.”
“The others?”
“The girls downstairs. All dolled up. Waiting to be seen.”
“Maybe I don’t like being seen.”
“Then you shouldn’t wear that color.” His gaze dropped for a beat before flicking back to my eyes.
I hated how warm my face felt. “You gonna turn me in or not?” I asked, chin high.
He paused. “Depends.”
“On what?”
“Why you came.”
“I already told you,” I shook my head. “I got lost.”
“And I already told you,” his voice dropped just slightly, “you don’t look lost.”
I hated this. Hated that he saw through me. Hated that his voice sent something crawling under my skin.
“So what, are you a guard?” I snapped. “Some royal watchdog sniffing around for misbehaving she-wolves?”
He smiled, slow and dangerous. “Something like that.”
My stomach turned. I should’ve left. I should’ve made some excuse and stormed out dramatically. But I didn’t.
Instead, I stared at him like I wanted to burn the way he was looking at me into memory.
“You shouldn’t be here,” he said.
“And yet… here I am.”
He studied me for a long moment, like he was trying to read something behind my eyes.
I didn’t flinch. Finally, he said, quiet and certain, “They’re not ready for you.”
My heart stopped.
“What?”
He stepped closer. “The ones down there. The council. The heirs. The ones who think they’re about to choose a bride. They’re not ready for you.”
I swallowed. “You don’t even know me.”
He didn’t blink. “I don’t have to.”
Something sharp and hot twisted inside me. It wasn’t just attraction, it was some kind of recognition. Like his voice had cracked open something old inside me.
Like I’d heard him before, even if I didn’t know when.
I hated that I wanted to hear him say more. I hated that I was curious. And I hated most of all that I was still standing there, breath caught in my throat, pretending I had control when I didn’t.
“Who are you?” I whispered again. I was dying to know.
He didn’t answer. Just turned toward the window, silver eyes flashing in the moonlight.
“You should go,” he said. “Before someone less forgiving finds you.”
I didn’t move. He looked over his shoulder. “Now.”
So I turned and I walked past him, every step heavy with everything I didn’t say. And as I reached the door, he murmured behind me—“Next time, wear softer boots.”
