The night was always the hardest.
There was something about the quiet that made everything feel more real. The silence between us, the tension in the air, the way my thoughts echoed in the stillness. It was the time when all the questions I couldn't answer during the day came flooding back in full force.
The academy's halls were dark, but I knew them well enough to navigate without making a sound. My footsteps were muffled by the thick carpet, the flickering torchlight casting long shadows that stretched across the stone walls. I walked without thinking, as though my feet knew the way better than my mind.
I'd learned a long time ago that if I kept moving, I didn't have to stop and think. I didn't have to deal with the weight of the past, the bitterness of betrayal. I didn't have to face the fact that my father had shattered my trust, or that I was walking into the heart of a political game that could swallow me whole.
But tonight, that feeling—the one I couldn't shake—was stronger than ever.
I wasn't alone.
It wasn't Thorne, not this time. His presence was like a shadow I could feel, like a predator circling its prey, but it was different now. I was used to him watching me, used to the way his gaze seemed to follow me through every room I entered. But tonight, it wasn't just his eyes that lingered on me.
Someone else was watching.
I could feel it.
The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end, and my hand instinctively moved to the hilt of my dagger. I should've known better than to be so careless. I was too exposed. Too vulnerable.
I spun around, my eyes scanning the hallway. There was no one there—at least, not that I could see.
Still, I wasn't convinced. The feeling hadn't gone away.
I was about to turn back when I heard the soft creak of a door. A figure stepped out of the shadows, barely more than a silhouette in the dim light.
"You're not as quiet as you think you are, Lady Alden."
The voice was low, smooth, and far too familiar.
I stiffened. "What are you doing here, Prince Thorne?"
His figure emerged fully from the shadows, and I could see him more clearly now. The faint light from the torch caught the sharp angles of his face, the glint in his dark eyes, the faintest curve of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He looked like a man who knew exactly what he was doing—and who didn't care that I could tell.
"I could ask you the same thing," he replied, his voice steady as ever. "Aren't you supposed to be in bed by now?"
I couldn't help but scoff, trying to cover the way my pulse quickened at his presence. "I'm not some child who needs to be put to bed. Besides, I wasn't aware I needed permission to walk these halls."
His smile deepened, though there was something almost unreadable about it. "Oh, I'm sure you don't. But in a place like this, you never know who's watching, do you?"
I couldn't argue with that. I'd learned quickly that the academy wasn't just a school—it was a battleground, where even the smallest misstep could be your last.
"What do you want, Thorne?" I asked, my voice cold.
He stepped closer, his eyes never leaving mine. "I want to know if you're ready to play the game. The real game. The one that doesn't let you walk away once you've started."
His words were like a punch to the gut. The game. The one I'd been avoiding since the moment I was born into this life. The one that had cost me everything.
"I've already lost," I said, my voice quieter now. "I don't need to play any more games."
Thorne's expression softened, though the flicker of something darker remained. "Maybe you're wrong. Maybe you haven't lost yet. Maybe you're just waiting for the right time to strike."
I wanted to argue. I wanted to tell him that I didn't need his advice, that I didn't need anyone. But the way he said it—the way he believed it—made me question everything. Was there really a way out of this? Was there a way to turn the tables and take control of my own fate?
He tilted his head slightly, as if considering something. "You don't have to do this alone, Lady Alden. You don't have to carry all of this on your shoulders. Not if you trust the right people."
I froze. The words felt too heavy, too loaded with meaning. Trust? It wasn't something I could give easily, not anymore. Not after everything I'd been through.
"I don't trust anyone," I said flatly. "Especially not you."
Thorne's smile didn't fade, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes—a glimmer of understanding, or perhaps something darker. "Maybe one day, you'll change your mind."
I didn't say anything. I couldn't.
Instead, I turned and walked away, the weight of his words pressing on my chest, even as I tried to ignore it.