Kaela didn't remember drawing her sword.
One moment she was staring at Arion — Prince Arion — and the next, the blade was pressed against his throat, the cold steel trembling with the force of her grip. The lantern light flickered across his face, illuminating the quiet acceptance in his eyes.
He didn't move.
He didn't beg.
He didn't even flinch.
That only made her angrier.
"You," she whispered, voice shaking with fury she could barely contain. "You stood beside me. You fought with me. You touched me. And all this time—"
"I know," Arion said softly.
"Don't you dare speak like you understand." Her voice cracked. "You don't know what you've done."
Arion's gaze didn't waver. "Then tell me."
Kaela's breath hitched. Rage surged through her, hot and blinding.
"You burned my home," she spat. "You killed my family. You destroyed everything I had left."
Arion closed his eyes, pain flickering across his features. "Kaela—"
"Don't say my name!" she shouted, shoving him back against the wall. "You don't get to say it. You don't get to pretend you care."
Her blade pressed harder. A thin line of blood appeared on his skin.
Arion didn't lift a hand to stop her.
"I won't fight you," he said quietly. "Not for this."
Kaela's vision blurred. She blinked hard, refusing to let tears fall. Tears were weakness. Tears were for people who still had something to lose.
"You lied to me," she whispered. "You let me trust you."
"I never asked for your trust."
"But you took it anyway."
Arion swallowed, the movement brushing his throat against her blade. "I didn't want to. But I—"
"Don't," she said, voice breaking. "Don't you dare say you care. Don't you dare pretend this is anything but betrayal."
Silence stretched between them, thick and suffocating.
Kaela's hand shook. She hated that it shook.
She wanted to kill him.
She wanted to scream.
She wanted to collapse.
She wanted answers.
Arion's voice was barely a breath. "If killing me will give you peace… then do it."
Her heart twisted painfully.
Peace.
There was no peace left in her.
Kaela stepped back, lowering the blade but not sheathing it. "You think this is about peace? You think killing you will fix anything?"
Arion exhaled shakily. "I don't know what will fix it. But I know what broke it."
Kaela's jaw clenched. "You."
"No," he said, meeting her gaze. "Varek."
The name hit her like a blow.
Kaela's grip tightened. "You expect me to believe that? That the man who raised me, trained me, protected me—"
"—is the same man who burned your village," Arion finished quietly. "Yes."
Kaela shook her head violently. "No. No, you're lying. You're trying to save yourself."
"If I wanted to save myself," Arion said, "I wouldn't have told you who I am."
Kaela froze.
He was right.
He could have run. He could have denied it. He could have killed the man who recognized him. But he didn't.
He stood here, unarmed, offering his life to her.
"Why?" she whispered. "Why tell me now?"
Arion's expression softened — not with pity, but with something far more dangerous.
Honesty.
"Because you deserve the truth," he said. "Even if it destroys me."
Kaela's breath caught.
For a moment — a single, fragile moment — she saw him not as a prince, not as a traitor, not as the monster in her nightmares…
…but as the man who wrapped her wound with trembling hands.
The man who fought beside her without hesitation.
The man who looked at the moons like he was searching for something he'd lost.
Her chest ached.
She hated that it ached.
"You don't get to break me again," she whispered.
Arion's voice was raw. "I never wanted to break you."
Kaela stepped back, sword lowering to her side. Her hands trembled uncontrollably now, the adrenaline fading, leaving only the hollow ache of grief.
"I need proof," she said. "Not words. Not promises. Proof."
Arion nodded slowly. "I can give you that."
Kaela sheathed her sword with a sharp click. "Then you will. And if you lie to me again…"
"I won't," he said.
"You'd better pray you don't."
Arion's gaze softened, but he didn't smile. "I don't pray anymore."
Kaela turned away, unable to look at him any longer. The night air was cold, but her skin burned with the weight of everything she'd learned — everything she'd lost.
Behind her, Arion spoke one last time, voice barely above a whisper.
"I'm sorry, Kaela. For all of it."
She didn't answer.
She couldn't.
Because for the first time since her village burned, she wasn't sure who the enemy truly was.
And that terrified her more than any blade ever could.