Everywhere was silent, the weight of the moment pressing down on them like a storm cloud. Stephen couldn't believe his ears.
His gaze darted to Zayd, whose calm, knowing expression struck him like a blow. He must have known—kept it from him.
"How am I the last to know of this?" His voice was low, sharp with anger, but his piercing eyes were trained on Aurora.
"I am sorry for deceiving you," she finally said, her voice trembling but steady enough. "I was ashamed, even for a moment, and I made the wrong choice."
"As you should be," Genevieve's voice slithered into the tension, her triumphant smile curling at the edges.
Stephen's expression darkened, unreadable yet simmering. Aurora opened her mouth to speak, but before the words could form, Stephen seized her wrist. His grip was firm, unyielding, yet it held a curious gentleness that both confused and frightened her.
"Where are you taking me?" she demanded, her voice cracking as he pulled her along without a word.
They passed through the winding halls of the palace, his silence speaking louder than words. Once inside his chambers, he kicked the door shut, the sound reverberating through the walls.
Before she could gather her wits, he pressed her against the door, his weight caging her, trapping her.
Her heart thundered in her chest, her breath hitching as her wide eyes met his stormy gaze. In this moment, he seemed larger, overwhelming, like a force of nature she couldn't escape.
"Tell me everything," he demanded, his voice low and rough, barely more than a growl.
"Why?" He stopped, and for a moment, the anger faltered. Hurt gleamed in his eyes, and her heart clenched at the sight.
"Why didn't you tell me? I might have said something cruel, yes—I know I have. Like the fool I was, I followed my mother's poisonous words, shunning courtesans, dancers, and musicians. I never stopped to think..." His voice cracked, and he turned away briefly, his hands curling into fists at his sides.
"I never imagined you—" He paused, his eyes staring deeply into Aurora's, she couldn't form a sentence, her breath was taken away by the intensity of their closeness.
"Did I make you feel unsafe? Unworthy? Did I give you reason to believe you couldn't trust me?" His voice dropped to a whisper, his vulnerability cutting through her.
"No," she whispered, shaking her head. 'Why were they whispering?' Aurora thought in her head.
"You didn't, Stephen. This was my fault. I thought... I thought if anyone knew, they'd see me as less. And I wasn't wrong, was I?" Her eyes glistened with unshed tears.
"But I should have told you. I see that now, and I am sorry."
His jaw tightened, his gaze searching hers, the raw intensity of his expression stealing her breath.
"You are not less," he said firmly. "Do you hear me? You are not less. Whatever shame you think your past carries, it holds no weight with me. You have no idea how deeply—"
He cut himself off, his voice trembling. Aurora's lips parted, stunned by the fervor in his words.
"You're safe with me," he continued, his tone fierce. "You could tell me the darkest parts of yourself, and it wouldn't change how I..." He paused, a flicker of hesitation crossing his face.
"How you... what?" she breathed, her voice barely audible.
"How I care for you," he said finally, though his words carried the weight of something far greater. "As a friend," he added quickly, stepping back, his hand raking through his hair.
Aurora's throat tightened as she nodded, blinking rapidly to keep her tears at bay.
"Oh, as a friend." She whispered as she nodded to herself.
Stephen's expression hardened, his jaw clenching. The thought of other men's hands on her, their eyes on her—it burned in him like fire. But he shook his head.
"Yes," he said, though his voice was strained. "We all face choices in life, choices we don't always wish to make. You did what you had to. It changes nothing between us."
They stood in silence, the air thick with unspoken words, neither meeting the other's eyes.
"How did my mother find out?" he asked at last, his tone clipped.
"I let it slip," Aurora replied, her voice sharp.
"And Zayd?" His eyes flicked to hers, sharp and probing.
"I don't know," she said, though her voice wavered with uncertainty.
Stephen let out a low chuckle, bitter and quiet. "I see," he muttered.
"Why?" Aurora narrowed her eyes, stepping closer.
"Nothing," he said, straightening, his mask of composure slipping back into place.
"We should leave before someone begins to spin tales about us."
With a curt nod, he turned and left the room, leaving Aurora to lean against the door, her chest heaving.
She pressed a trembling hand to her lips, her heart still racing. What had just happened? They had been so close, closer than she had ever imagined they would be.
Shaking her head, she steadied herself and followed after him, her thoughts a tempest of confusion and longing.
~~~
The sky roared with thunder, its deep growl echoing across the training grounds as Stephen walked back to the training grounds. He stood motionless, the weight of betrayal clenching his fists.
Across from him, Zayd lingered in the rain, his calm demeanor a sharp contrast to Stephen's brewing storm, Zayd chuckled, "I knew you'd be back," he said softly.
"Why don't we settle this with steel?" He suggested, tossing a sword toward Stephen.
Stephen caught it effortlessly, unsheathing the blade with a sharp hiss before tossing the scabbard aside. His narrowed eyes locked onto Zayd's, a glint of unrelenting anger in their depths.
"Why didn't you tell me?" Stephen demanded, his voice low but edged with venom.
Without waiting for a response, he lunged forward, the tip of his sword aiming straight for Zayd's chest.
Zayd parried the strike with practiced ease, his blade ringing against Stephen's.
"You already know why."
Stephen's attacks were relentless, a flurry of precise, brutal swings. Each strike was a question, a demand. Zayd met them with equal skill, his movements defensive, calculated, his feet sliding across the slick ground as rainwater splattered around them.
"Do not insult me by pretending you did it for her sake," Stephen spat, forcing Zayd to sidestep and deflect another strike.
Zayd gritted his teeth as their swords locked, the steel grinding under their weight.
"And what exactly would you have done if I had told you? What difference would it make, Stephen?" Zayd asked, a small smile tugging his lips.
Stephen broke away, circling Zayd like a wolf preparing to pounce.
"It didn't have to make a difference, the point here is," he paused. "You kept it to yourself, not for me or her, but for yourself, along with the disgustingly creative schemes you came up with in your head, Zayd."
Zayd's lip curled into a bitter smile, his grip tightening on his sword.
"Is that what you really think?" He dodged another swing, rain spraying between them as their blades clashed again. "Do you think me a lier? A schemer?"
"I think," Stephen growled, his voice rising with every word, "that no matter how hard you try, no matter how long you wait,or the things you do, you will never have her. Because I won't let that happen,"
The sky growled with thunder, its ferocious voice echoing over the drenched training grounds. Rain fell relentlessly, soaking the earth and the two men who stood facing each other, swords in hand.
Stephen's face was carved with an eerily calm expression, his jaw set tight as his narrowed eyes locked onto Zayd's impassive gaze.
"Is that a challenge?" Zayd asked, a faint smirk playing at his lips as he tossed his sword from hand to hand, the blade gleaming in the dim light.
"I will never—never—use Aurora as some ground for the petty games you're playing," Stephen hissed, his grip tightening on the hilt of his sword. His voice carried over the sound of the rain, sharp and cold like the steel he wielded.
Zayd's smirk faded, replaced by a snicker of mockery. "And you think so little of me to assume that? Do you truly believe I've done all this for some game?"
Stephen didn't answer. Instead, he lunged forward, his blade arcing toward Zayd in a swift, powerful strike. Zayd parried just in time, the clash of steel ringing through the storm as sparks flew between their blades.
"That," Stephen growled, pressing his weight against Zayd's sword with unrelenting force, "is the Zayd I know—selfish and conniving—and you've proven yet again that you'll never change."
Zayd twisted free, his movements sharp, boots splashing in the growing puddles around them. His face, usually calm and collected, hardened with defiance.
"And what about you, Stephen?" he retorted, his tone clipped but steady. "You strut about, acting righteous, like you're the only one who cares for her. Where was this devotion when she needed you most?
You were too consumed with your ambitions, too enamored with your power to even remember her!" Zayd snapped, his voice rising. He deflected another swing and thrust forward, forcing Stephen to block.
Their swords locked, faces inches apart, rain streaming down their faces.
"Standing on your high ground, pretending you don't care about the fact that she was a courtesan. But deep down, you care the most—you just won't admit it."
The words struck a nerve, but Stephen didn't flinch. He broke the lock, his blade slicing through the rain in a wide, powerful arc that Zayd narrowly dodged.
"Yes, you're right!" Stephen's voice was thunderous, his anger barely contained. "It did affect me—more than I ever thought possible, but not in the way you think. And I will never see her in a different light for her past, Zayd, and I'll never use her insecurities as an excuse to manipulate her. That's the difference between us."
Zayd's sword rose again, meeting Stephen's in another violent clash that sent echoes through the storm. His face twisted, his composure finally cracking.
"Fine!" Zayd spat, shoving Stephen back with a forceful thrust. "I kept her secret because I wanted her to see me—finally see me! I wanted her to stop looking at you like you're the only man in the world who matters, it was for my selfish gains!"
Stephen stepped forward, pressing Zayd back, his impassively gaze pinning him down.
"And that's exactly why you'll never have her," he said coldly, his words cutting deeper than any blade. He surged forward, disarming Zayd in one swift, calculated motion.
Zayd's sword flew from his hand, clattering onto the wet ground as Stephen's blade pressed against his neck.
Rain poured over them, washing away the sweat from their struggle, but not the tension between them. Stephen leaned in closer, his voice low and menacing.
"Do not come near her, Zayd. Do not use her feelings—or anyone else's close to me—to satisfy your own selfish desires. It is no one's fault that you don't know how to love properly."
For a moment, Zayd said nothing, his chest heaving as he stared into Stephen's unrelenting gaze as he stepped back and dropped his sword.
He turned and walked away, the rain masking the sound of his heavy footsteps. Then, slowly, Zayd exhaled, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. He remained standing in the rain, his hands trembling slightly as he rubbed at his throat where Stephen's blade had been moments before.
He raked his fingers through his wet hair, his breath coming in short, sharp bursts. The storm raged on as he made his way to his quarters.
The palace corridors were quiet, the servants long since retired. He poured himself a goblet of wine, the crimson liquid swirling in the flickering candlelight as Stephen's words echoed in his mind.
After a time, he stood, still soaked and unsteady, and wandered through the palace halls. The rain battered against the windows, its unrelenting rhythm matching the storm inside him.
He stopped before a familiar door, hesitation freezing him in place. Just as he turned to leave, the door opened, revealing Sapphire. Her widened eyes met his, and for a moment, they simply stared at one another, the tension palpable.
"Zayd?Are you all right? What-" before she could finish her sentence, Zayd stepped forward, closing the distance between them, and covered her lips with his, using his spare hand to push the door close. The door shut behind them, muffling the rain outside, though the storm continued to rage elsewhere.
Meanwhile, in the guest quarters of the palace, a scream pierced the night. A maid stumbled backward, her hands trembling as she pointed to the lifeless body of Emma sprawled across the floor. Within moments, the halls were alight with commotion, the rain outside doing nothing to drown out the rising panic.