Page 49

Two weeks after the battle for Eldoria, the grand court chamber buzzed with whispers as Father stood in the center, back straight and eyes forward. The ornate walls that once intimidated me now felt like old friends, having witnessed both my disgrace and redemption.

Anderic stood beside his father’s throne, his golden curls catching the light streaming through the stained glass windows. Our eyes met briefly, and he gave me a subtle nod. The royal family had kept their promise—Father would be treated fairly.

Marquess Vincent Hargreave cleared his throat.

“Marquess Elyas D’Arcane, the crown has reviewed the evidence of your involvement in the attempt to discredit Earl Magnus Bellrose.

” His voice echoed throughout the chamber.

“While your actions constituted a violation of trust, new evidence suggests you were manipulated by Chancellor Thornwood, who used your scheme as cover for his own extensive corruption.”

Mother squeezed my hand, her fingers trembling slightly.

“Furthermore,” Vincent continued, “the very man you sought to discredit was, in fact, guilty of far graver crimes against the crown—taking bribes, falsifying records, and conspiring with Thornwood to embezzle royal funds.”

Sebastian exhaled beside me. “Thank God.”

“Therefore, His Majesty has determined that your punishment shall be a fine of ten thousand gold coins, after which you may return to your duties.”

Murmurs rippled through the court. The fine was substantial but far less than what many expected. In my past life, Father had lost his head for less.

Father bowed deeply. “I accept the judgment and am grateful for His Majesty’s mercy.” He paused. “However, I respectfully request permission to resign my position as Head of the Ministry of Revenue.”

The King leaned forward, surprise evident on his weathered face. “Are you certain, Elyas? One mistake, however serious, need not end a lifetime of service.”

“Your Majesty is most generous,” Father replied. “But I’ve been considering this for some time. I’m not as young as I once was, and perhaps it’s time for fresh eyes and new ideas to guide the Ministry.”

King Arnald studied Father for a long moment before nodding. “Very well. Your resignation is accepted, though not without regret.”

After the formalities concluded, Father joined us at the side of the chamber, looking lighter than I’d seen him in years.

“Well, that’s that,” he said, adjusting his cuffs with an air of finality.

“What will you do now?” Sebastian asked.

Father grinned. “I was thinking of trying my hand at farming.”

Laurel, standing discreetly behind me, muttered, “What is it with this family and farming?”

I shot her an amused glance. “Actually, Father, my textile business has grown considerably. I could use someone with your head for numbers to help manage the accounts.”

“That’s my girl.” Father draped an arm around my shoulders. “Always thinking ahead. Though I still might plant a few rows of turnips.”

Mother sighed dramatically. “Elyas, please. You’ve never gardened a day in your life.”

“It’s never too late to learn,” he replied cheerfully.

His smile faded as he looked at me. “You know, Lya, I’ve realized something—we D’Arcanes are terrible at being villains. Too soft-hearted underneath it all.” Yeah, right.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” I replied honestly.

The court herald’s voice rang out. “Earl Magnus Bellrose, step forward for judgment.”

As Magnus shuffled to the center, chains rattling at his ankles, I glanced at Rosalind. Her face was a mask of composure, but I recognized the slight tremor in her clasped hands. She fought so much to clear her father’s name, only to discover he was guilty all along.

Without thinking, I crossed the room to stand beside her. Rosalind stiffened when I approached but didn’t move away.

“You don’t have to pretend with me,” I whispered. “I can only imagine what it must feel like—when the person you love most disappoints you.”

A single tear slipped down her cheek. “I gave up everything to prove his innocence.”

“And gained something better—the truth.” I took her hand gently. “It hurts now, but it will set you free.”

As Vincent read out Magnus’s crimes, Rosalind’s fingers tightened around mine.

We stood together—former enemies who had found friendship in the most unlikely of circumstances, our bond strengthened by the shared weight of painful truths.

In this moment of reckoning, I silently promised to stand by her side, no matter what came next.

As we left the court chamber, my mind was still processing the day’s events.

Father was safe, Magnus had faced justice, and somehow, against all odds, I had managed to rewrite the worst parts of my fate.

I felt oddly light, as if the weight I’d carried since my return to the past had finally lifted from my shoulders.

“I need to speak with Lady Rosalind,” I told my family as we prepared to depart. “I’ll meet you at the carriage.”

Mother nodded, linking her arm with Father’s as they walked ahead. Sebastian gave me a knowing look but said nothing as he followed them. Laurel hesitated until I gestured for her to go with them.

I had just turned down another corridor when a warm hand closed around my wrist, pulling me into an alcove behind a tapestry. I barely had time to gasp before I found myself pressed against Anderic’s chest, his scent of sandalwood and leather enveloping me.

“Sneaking off so soon?” He murmured, his breath hot against my ear.

“I was going to find Rosalind,” I replied, trying to sound indignant despite the way my pulse quickened. “And this is hardly princely behavior, dragging ladies into dark corners.”

His laugh was low and dangerous. “I’ve never claimed to be a perfect prince.” His fingers traced the line of my jaw. “Besides, you’re leaving already. I’m not ready to say goodbye.”

Before I could form a retort, he was leading me through a series of back passages I’d rarely used. The palace was a labyrinth, and Anderic navigated it with the ease of someone who had spent a lifetime exploring its secrets.

“Taking the scenic route?” I asked, recognizing the direction we were headed.

He glanced back, his blue eyes darkening. “I prefer paths where we won’t be interrupted.”

We emerged into the secluded wing that housed the royal family’s private quarters. As Anderic opened the ornate door to his chambers and pulled me inside, the decisive click of the lock sent a familiar shiver down my spine.

The Prince’s chambers were exactly as I remembered them—spacious and elegant, with high ceilings and tall windows that overlooked the gardens. The massive four-poster bed dominated one wall, still draped in those rich fabrics of blue and gold that complemented his royal aesthetic.

“I’ve thought about having you here again,” Anderic said, his voice dropping to that dangerous register that made my knees weak. “Ever since that night.”

“Is that so?” I managed, trying to maintain my composure even as heat bloomed in my core. “And here I thought princes were supposed to be above such base thoughts.”

He moved closer, his fingers trailing up my arm. “I’ve never been very good at denying myself what I want.”

“And what is it that you want, Your Highness?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

His answer was to kiss me—not the gentle, controlled kisses we’d shared before, but something wild and consuming. His hands tangled in my hair, tilting my head back as his tongue explored my mouth with devastating thoroughness.

I melted against him, my fingers clutching at his shoulders as he backed me toward the bed. When my legs hit the edge, he broke the kiss, his breathing as ragged as my own.

“I want you,” he said simply. “All of you, Ilyana.”

Something in the way he said my name—like a prayer and a curse combined—broke the last of my restraint. I reached for the ties of my dress, but his hands caught mine.

“Let me,” he murmured.

Anderic undressed me with torturous slowness, his fingers skimming over each new expanse of skin revealed, leaving trails of fire in their wake. By the time I stood naked before him, I was trembling with need.

“Beautiful,” he breathed, his eyes traveling over me with such intensity I could almost feel it as a physical touch.

I reached for him, tugging impatiently at his clothing. “Your turn, Prince.”

He smiled, that devastating smile that lit his eyes and deepened his dimples. “So demanding.”

But he complied, shedding his fine garments until he stood gloriously naked. I let my gaze wander over the defined muscles of his chest, the narrow trail of golden hair leading down to his impressive arousal. The sight of him sent a fresh wave of heat between my thighs.

“See something you like?” he teased, pulling me against him.

The feel of his skin against mine drew a gasp from my lips. “Perhaps.”

He lifted me onto the bed with ease, following me down until he hovered above me, his golden curls creating a halo in the afternoon light. When he kissed me again, it was with deliberate slowness, as if we had all the time in the world.

His lips traveled down my neck, across my collarbone, until they closed around one sensitive nipple. I arched beneath him, a moan escaping my lips as his tongue circled the hardened peak.

“Anderic,” I gasped, my hands threading through his hair.

“Say that again,” he commanded, his voice rough with desire.

“Anderic,” I repeated, and was rewarded with his mouth on my other breast, his hand sliding down my stomach to the heat between my thighs.

His fingers found me wet and wanting, and he groaned against my skin. “So ready for me.”

He stroked me with maddening precision, finding the spot that made my hips buck against his hand. All the while, his mouth continued its exploration of my body, leaving marks that would remind me of this moment long after we parted.

When I was trembling on the edge, he positioned himself between my thighs, the head of his cock pressing against my entrance.

“Look at me,” he demanded, and I opened my eyes to find his intense gaze fixed on mine.

He pushed into me with excruciating slowness, stretching me until I gasped his name again. When he was fully seated within me, he stilled, his forehead pressed against mine.

“You feel incredible,” he breathed, his voice strained with the effort of control.

I rolled my hips experimentally, drawing a hiss from between his clenched teeth. “So do you.”

He began to move then, with deep, measured thrusts that hit exactly where I needed him. Each movement sent waves of pleasure radiating through my body, building with every stroke.

“Harder,” I demanded, digging my nails into his back.

Anderic growled, quickening his pace but maintaining that devastating precision. “As my lady commands.”

The room filled with the sounds of our pleasure—skin against skin, breathless moans, and whispered encouragements. I wrapped my legs around his waist, changing the angle until stars burst behind my eyelids.

“Anderic, I’m—” I couldn’t finish the sentence as my release crashed over me, my body clenching around him as waves of ecstasy pulsed through me.

He followed moments later, his rhythm faltering as he buried his face in my neck and groaned my name. The feel of him pulsing inside me prolonged my own pleasure until we both collapsed, breathless and sated.

For several minutes, we lay tangled together, his weight a comforting pressure above me. Eventually, he rolled to the side, pulling me against his chest. I traced idle patterns on his skin, listening to his heartbeat gradually slow.

“What are you thinking?” he asked, his fingers playing with a strand of my hair.

I smiled against his chest. “That I should be scandalized by my behavior, but I find I’m not at all sorry.”

His laugh rumbled beneath my ear. “Good. Neither am I.”

He shifted, propping himself up on one elbow to look down at me. His expression had grown serious, those blue eyes studying me with an intensity that made my breath catch.

“What would you say,” he began, his voice casual despite the tension I could feel in his body, “if I told you this could be your bed every night?”

My heart stuttered. “What?”

“This room. This bed.” His finger traced the line of my collarbone. “Waking up here, as Crown Princess of Aetheria.”

I stared at him, hardly daring to believe what I was hearing. “Are you asking what I think you’re asking?”

His lips curved into that smile that never failed to make my pulse race.

“I’m asking if you, Lady Ilyana D’Arcane, would do me the very great honor of becoming my wife.

” His smile widened. “Unless, of course, you’d prefer to continue meeting in secret corners of the palace, which I admit has its own appeal. ”

I laughed, even as tears pricked at my eyes. “You are impossible.”

“Is that a yes?”

I pulled him down for a kiss, pouring everything I felt into it—the joy, the disbelief, the overwhelming love that threatened to burst my heart.

“Yes,” I whispered against his lips. “Yes, I’ll marry you, you impossible man.”

His answering smile was brighter than the sun. “Good,” he said, rolling me beneath him once more. “Because I wasn’t planning on taking no for an answer.”