Alderon's pov
Elowen's grip on my arm was light, elegant, perfectly princess-like—
and still felt like a shackle.
She swept me down the corridor with a smile so composed it almost looked kind… if I ignored the sharpness beneath it. The moment we turned the corner and Maria was out of sight, Elowen's hold tightened ever so slightly, a quiet reminder of power and possession.
My mind, however, wasn't with her.
It was with Maria.
Her voice.
Her eyes.
The way she pulled away from me like touching me would burn her.
"You never walk away from me like that again," Elowen murmured, though there was nothing gentle in her tone.
I kept my voice level. "I didn't walk away. I only stepped out for some air."
She didn't buy it—her eyes narrowed in brief, icy judgment.
"And yet," she said, lifting her chin, "I found you with your servant girl."
My jaw tensed, but I forced my expression into something calm, respectful. "It's late, Princess. You should rest."
