The weight of the castle's oppressive silence pressed down on Eira like a second skin. Each stone wall, no matter how lavishly adorned, felt like a boundary—an unyielding reminder of her captivity. She stood by the window in her chambers, the dim light of early night casting long shadows across the room. Her gaze was fixed on the treetops far beyond the castle grounds, swaying in the breeze like they were mocking her.
Her fingers curled around the edge of the window frame, her knuckles white with tension. "I can't keep doing this," she muttered under her breath.
The events of the past days had left her raw, her dreams fractured by visions she couldn't explain, her body marked by encounters with Caius that left her both shaken and restless. And yet, none of it compared to the ache of missing her brother, her home, and the world she'd been so abruptly torn from.
Eira whirled away from the window, pacing the length of the room with quick, agitated strides. The blood bond pulled at her like an invisible tether, tightening every time her thoughts lingered on Caius. But she refused to let it define her, to let him control her. Not anymore.
Her resolve hardened. She was going to talk to him.
Without a second thought, Eira grabbed her shawl and left her chambers, her bare feet moving swiftly against the cold stone floor. The castle was quiet, save for the faint echoes of her footsteps. She wasn't sure where Caius would be, but instinct—or perhaps the bond—guided her toward the great hall.
The double doors loomed before her, their dark wood carved with intricate patterns of roses and thorns. Eira hesitated for only a moment before pushing them open, the heavy doors groaning under the effort.
Caius stood at the far end of the room, his tall figure framed by the light of a roaring fire. The heat sent shadows flickering wildly across the high stone walls, their movement like silent, shifting specters.
His coat lay draped over the back of a chair, his sleeves rolled to his elbows, exposing pale forearms that glinted faintly in the firelight. The low hum of the flames filled the silence, a constant reminder of the tension simmering just beneath the surface.
He was leaning casually against the edge of a long table, a glass of dark liquid cradled in his hand. His golden eyes flicked to her the moment she entered, their piercing gaze a mixture of curiosity and mild irritation.
"Eira," he said, his tone cool but edged with something softer. "Shouldn't you be resting?"
She didn't bother with pleasantries. "I need to talk to you."
His brow arched. "You usually do."
Eira crossed the room, her movements deliberate, stopping a few feet from him. "This isn't about you." She took a deep breath, steadying herself. "It's about me. About my life—what's left of it, anyway."
Caius set his glass down on the table with a quiet clink, his expression unreadable. "Go on."
Eira took a steadying breath. "I can't stay locked in this castle forever. I'm not like you, Caius. I can't live in shadows and silence. I miss my home, my brother, my studio—everything you've taken from me."
"I took nothing you didn't offer," he said coolly.
Her fists clenched at her sides. "Offer? You gave me no choice. And now you keep me locked away like a prisoner."
The accusation hung heavy in the air. For a moment, Caius simply looked at her, his piercing gaze unyielding.
"You're safer here," he said finally, his tone quieter but no less firm.
"Safer," she repeated, her tone sharp. "But at what cost? My freedom? My sanity?" She took a step closer, her chin lifting defiantly. "You said I'm your wife now. So why do I feel like your prisoner?"
The words landed with a weight that hung in the air between them. For a moment, Caius said nothing, his golden eyes searching hers as though trying to decipher something she wasn't saying.
Finally, he spoke, his voice quieter but no less firm. "You don't understand the dangers of my world, Eira. The rogues you've encountered are only a fraction of what lurks beyond these walls. Letting you wander freely would be—"
"I'm not asking to wander freely," she interrupted, her voice rising. "I'm asking for a chance to live. To feel like myself again. Let me go back to Ravensmoor, just for a little while. Let me paint. Let me visit my brother."
Caius's expression darkened. "You don't realize what you're asking."
"I know what I'm asking," she said, her voice rising. "And I'm not asking to wander freely. I'll take precautions—guards, curfews, whatever you want. But I can't stay in this cage, Caius. I need to breathe. To feel like myself again."
Her chest heaved as she spoke, the frustration spilling out of her in waves. Caius's gaze was unrelenting, his expression carved from stone.
Finally, he exhaled, running a hand through his hair, his fingers pausing for the briefest moment before sliding through the dark strands. "You are maddening," he muttered under his breath. There was something almost resigned in his tone, as if he were grappling with a decision he already knew he couldn't win.
"So you've told me," she shot back, her anger burning through her fear.
A faint, reluctant smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, but it faded as quickly as it appeared.
In a flash, he was in front of her, his hand catching her wrist before she could step back. His touch wasn't painful, but it was unyielding, his fingers cool against her skin.
"If I allow this," he began, his tone low and deliberate, "it will be under my terms. You will not stay at your house. You will return here before nightfall. And you will have protection at all times. Do you understand?"
Relief and defiance warred in her chest, but another emotion flickered at the edges of her mind: unease. For all her bravado, she knew how tenuous this victory was. Caius wasn't agreeing because he trusted her—he was agreeing because he still held all the power. The blood bond pulsed faintly in her veins, a reminder that no matter how far she went, he would always be there. Always watching.
"I understand." She finally said.
Caius leaned closer, his shadow stretching long across the firelit floor, swallowing hers. The flickering light caught the sharp planes of his face, casting half of it into darkness. "Don't mistake this for a game, Eira." His voice dropped to a near-growl, each word laced with quiet menace. "Do not defy me. I will not give you another chance."
A shiver ran down her spine, but she refused to look away. "I think I deserve the chance to live my life, Caius. You can't keep me locked away forever."
His grip tightened slightly, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "I can. And I will, if you test me again."
For a moment, the air between them crackled with tension, his fingers cool and unyielding against her skin. The firelight caught in his golden eyes, making them burn with an intensity that sent a shiver racing down her spine. She tried to pull her wrist free, but his grip held firm, a deliberate reminder of the power he wielded. "Don't test me," he said again, his voice dropping lower, as if the words carried a promise she couldn't afford to doubt.
Then, just as suddenly, he released her, stepping back.
"Very well," he said, his tone clipped. "You may go. But if anything happens to you, Eira…" He let the words hang, the threat implicit. His gaze lingered on her for a moment too long, golden eyes sharp but carrying a flicker of something else—something darker and more difficult to name.
Eira swallowed hard, nodding. "Thank you."
He glanced at her one last time, his gaze heavy with something she couldn't name. "Don't make me regret this."
The door closed behind him, the sound echoing faintly in the cavernous hall. Eira stood frozen for a moment, the tension in her chest slowly unraveling. She had won this battle—but the victory felt precarious, like standing on the edge of a crumbling cliff. Freedom wasn't what Caius had given her; it was a leash, held taut and unyielding. She rubbed at her wrist where his grip had lingered, a faint shiver running through her. Would she ever be free of him, even outside these walls?
Did she really even want to be?
His warning lingered, sharp and unyielding. Her freedom was fragile, and she knew it.
For now, it would have to be enough.