The next morning, the palace hummed with unease.
Whispers floated down the halls. Servants paused when Ariana passed.
Even the guards, once indifferent, now bowed a fraction lower.
They know.
Not just that she belonged to the prince.
But that she was royalty herself — a Veyl by blood. A threat by name.
Damian hadn't slept in their room that night.
Ariana waited, staring at the empty space beside her.
The cold sheets. The silent corridor. The ache.
So this is what power tastes like… bitter and lonely.
She dressed in silence, pulling on a deep crimson gown — not the gentle rose colors he once chose for her.
Today she chose blood.
When she entered the training yard, the guards stopped. Even the captain bowed.
"My lady," he murmured.
She didn't respond.
She was not here to be praised. She was here to prepare.
Hours passed. Sweat clung to her skin. Her muscles burned.
She didn't stop.
Not when the blade blistered her palm.
Not when her shoulder gave out.
Not even when the sun dipped behind the palace towers.
Let them see I'm not just his lover. I'm not a girl to break.
I am Veyl.
She didn't notice him watching.
Damian stood in the shadows, arms crossed, mouth set in a line that screamed guilt and longing.
He'd been watching her for over an hour — the curve of her back as she fought, the anger in her strikes, the pain she didn't dare cry out.
When she dropped the practice blade and turned toward the baths, he followed.
She stepped into the private chamber — water steaming, flowers floating — and began to undress.
She didn't flinch when she heard the door shut behind her.
"You've been avoiding me," she said.
"You've been punishing yourself."
She turned. "What do you want, Damian?"
He stepped closer. "To feel like I haven't lost you."
She looked at him, breathing hard. Anger and need twisting in her chest like a war of their own.
"You lied to me."
"I'll lie again," he whispered. "If it keeps you alive."
His hands reached for her, fingers trembling as they slid over her bare shoulders.
"Tell me to stop," he said.
She didn't.
His lips crushed hers, not gently this time — not like a prince. Like a man breaking open.
They stumbled back toward the marble edge of the bath. Steam wrapped around them like smoke. His mouth trailed fire down her neck.
Ariana arched beneath him, moaning as he whispered,
"I will never let them take you. Not even if the kingdom burns."
And in that moment, wrapped in heat and hunger and betrayal...
She believed him.
Even if it killed her.