Page 45

The prince

Iryen

I woke up in an unfamiliar bed. The room bathed in shadows, with only the faint warm light spilling from what looked like a bathroom. My heart quickened as flashes of earlier crossed my mind, my breath hitching.

Shame washed over me. I had never shown such rawness before. Tears had always been a private matter, reserved for the solitude of my bedroom.

Even royalty breaks. We just do it in silence.

I couldn’t afford to show weakness. Not to anyone. Not even Sienna or Elora had seen me like that.

But Adrian… he had.

It had to be the bond. There was no other explanation.

I would never display that much vulnerability otherwise.

Lying here, I couldn’t help but replay the moment in my mind, the way I broke down in front of him.

It wasn’t like me to lose control, to allow someone to see the cracks in my soul.

But something about him… it was like he drew the pain from me, like I had no choice but to let him in .

The way he cradled me until I fell asleep.

It had been so long since I had felt so cared for.

The memory of his muscular arms around me, the gentle strokes of his hand in my hair, stirred something deep inside.

It was unsettling, unfamiliar, and yet… comforting.

I wasn’t used to this. To letting someone see me like that, to feeling protected instead of being the one who had to protect everyone else.

But as my thoughts wandered to that moment, memories of another time flooded my mind.

My first trip to the city was with Draven.

Hope had filled my heart then, a na?ve belief that we were on a noble mission to find the lost princess.

He was a scout sent by King Orion, my companion and soon after my confidant.

We had laughed and chased leads through the city, his presence a soothing solace for my anxious heart.

Those moments felt like a dream. I confided in him, sharing fears and dreams, feeling as if someone truly understood me.

But now? Now, I saw him for what he is—a bastard hungry for power.

How stupid I had been. The one I trusted would become the reason for my greatest agony.

A shiver ran down my spine as if my body remembered the betrayal before my mind could fully grasp it.

I felt the instinctual urge to fortify my defenses, to retreat into the fortress I had built around my heart.

Pushing aside these memories, I inspect the room.

Light gray walls created an intimate atmosphere that felt both modern and bold.

Sleek dark wood furniture contrasted with the color palette, giving the space a refined, masculine edge.

A large window with heavy black curtains framed the view of the city skyline, the distant lights flickering like stars against the darkness.

As I glanced over the minimalist decor—framed artwork depicting ocean scenes and a few well-placed books on a polished shelf—I couldn’t help but wonder what Adrian was like beyond the moments we had shared.

When he had held me, it felt so natural, yet I couldn’t shake the nagging feeling of vulnerability.

There was something about this place, about him, that made me question everything I had built around myself.

As I pushed myself out of the bed, the lingering warmth of the blankets slipped away, leaving me exposed to the cool air of the room.

My dress got ruined, hem torn, dirt streaked along the fabric. I looked like I’d crawled through a battlefield, not walked through a forest. Typical.

I stripped silently, gathered a clean set of clothes and stepped into the ensuite bathroom. Sanctuary. That was the only word for it. Marble floors, rainfall showers, and a tub with a view of a city I wasn’t sure I could ever belong to.

The water was an instant relief. Heat poured over my shoulders, washing away grime, tears, memory. I let my eyes close, muscles slowly unclenching. I wasn’t soft, at least not anymore. But here, in this small slice of quiet, I let the facade crack.

Just for a moment.

The scent of cedar clung to my skin, grounding me. I scrubbed harder than necessary, chasing the ghost of control I’d lost earlier. Letting someone— him— see me falling apart wasn’t the plan. I’d survived too much to fall apart now.

My mind betrayed me, drifting to him, his touch, his steadiness, the way he held me like I wouldn’t shatter if I let go. He shouldn’t have that power. And yet, he did.

When I finally stepped out, the cool air kissed my damp skin, pulling me back to reality. I wrapped a towel around my body and caught my reflection in the mirror. No more dirt, no more tears. Just me. Still standing.

The gown hanging nearby shimmered like moonlight on open water—soft, regal, deceptive.

Like me. I pulled it over my head, the silk molding to my frame, the silver clasp settling just below my sternum like a promise I hadn’t made.

Slits at both thighs gave the illusion of vulnerability, but weaponized, every inch of fabric calculated.

This dress wasn’t about beauty. It was armor in another form.

I fastened the final clasp and looked again at my reflection. Strong, composed. Unshaken. But his touch still lingered like heat on my skin, and I hated it. Hated even more, that part of me wanted to feel again.

No. Focus.

I reached for the earrings and slid them into place, cool silver catching the light. My bracelet followed, snug on my wrist. These small rituals—the dressing, the jewelry—weren’t for vanity. They were for control.

Ready now, I met my own eyes in the mirror. I didn’t smile. But I didn’t flinch either.

The moment I stepped out of the bathroom, a savory aroma wafted through the air, beckoning me toward the door. My stomach growled in response, a reminder that it had been far too long since I’d indulged in a proper meal.

With hesitant steps, I crossed the threshold into a dimly lit hallway.

The shadows stretched around me as if reluctant to let me go.

The delicious scent grew stronger, swirling together in a tantalizing symphony.

Rich spices mingled with the sweetness of caramelized onions, while something earthy and robust underpinned it all.

My mouth watered at the thought of the feast that awaited me.

Entering the dining area, the sight made my heart flutter.

A table elegantly set, adorned with white cream plates that echoed the colors of shells, gleaming silverware catching the light, like stars scattered across the night sky.

In the center, a steaming pot of something resembling meat simmered, surrounded by bowls filled with vibrant vegetables and warm bread, its golden crust promising comfort and satisfaction.

“You did this?” I asked quietly, surprise coloring my tone as my gaze swept over the beautifully arranged table. “You can cook?”

He shrugged, leaning casually against the counter with a small grin tugging at the corner of his lips. “Surprised?” His confidence was palpable, making it hard for me to maintain my composure. “There’s more to me than just business and cars, you know.”

“What about the reservation?” I glanced back at the table, my eyes lingering on the enticing dishes, and had to admit, I hadn’t expected this. “It just… caught me off guard.”

“Well,” he said, stepping toward me, his presence drawing me in. “I figured you could use a proper meal after the day we had. And we can go tomorrow. ”

His consideration and warmth made my heart race. The thought of a proper meal, one crafted with care, felt like a consolation for the tumult of emotions I was still wrestling with. It shifted the bricks of my fortress and cracked open the gate to more useless emotions, like infatuation.

My gaze lingered on his body, the soft glow of candlelight highlighting the firm lines of his body and the way his dark hair fell effortlessly across his forehead. I had a sudden urge to brush it off.

He stood there, a confident figure, effortlessly commanding the room while also exuding a warmth that seemed to draw me in, and the way his clothes clung to his muscles sent a heat spreading through my core. My breath caught in my throat, flutters of nerves racing through me.

For a moment, the world outside faded away, leaving just the two of us in this intimate space.

I couldn’t help but drool in the way his tailored shirt clung to his frame, accentuating his muscular build, and the way his piercing golden gaze held mine, intense and searching.

It felt as if he could see right through my carefully constructed fortress .

The realization hit me like a lightning bolt. I was standing in his home, sharing a meal he had prepared, and feeling more exposed than I ever had before. It was unsettling, yet exhilarating. My heart raced, my breath ragged and short, and icy cold flooded my veins.

“See something you like?” he asked, a teasing brow arched, the smirk playing on his lips making my pulse quicken.

I blinked, my cheeks flushing at his boldness. “No,” I lied, trying to sound teasing. It was then I realized I had been staring, caught in a web of intrigue and attraction. His confident smirk only deepened the heat spreading through me, igniting a flurry of questions in my mind.

What was it about him that made it so easy to forget my defenses?

Each glance exchanged felt charged, a silent conversation that spoke of uncharted territories and the potential for something more.

I had spent the last four years guarding my heart, yet here I was, standing on the edge of vulnerability, feeling drawn to him in a way that both excited and terrified me.

“Of course not,” he replied, amusement dancing in his eyes, clearly not believing me for a second. “Let’s eat before it gets cold.” With a flourish, he moved toward the table, pulling out a chair for me and nodding for me to take a seat.