Vexaria was done waiting.
She had spent too many nights in this wretched castle, pacing the stone floors, battling the storm that raged inside her. Every encounter with Xypheron chipped away at the certainty she had once carried so fiercely. He was a force unlike any she had ever faced—a shadow that slithered into her thoughts, into her very breath, until she couldn't tell whether she wanted to fight him or let herself be consumed by the fire he ignited in her.
She couldn't allow this. Wouldn't.
Tonight, she would take the battle to him.
The corridors of the castle were dimly lit, the flickering torches casting long, restless shadows. The scent of burning wax and something darker—something that always clung to the air around Xypheron—trailed through the halls, making her stomach tighten.
She found him where she knew he would be.
The war room.
Xypheron stood near the grand table, poring over a map strewn with silver markers and ink-stained notes. He looked powerful, absorbed in his thoughts, the candlelight playing tricks on the sharp lines of his face. Even lost in strategy, he carried the same effortless command, the same unwavering confidence that made her want to strike him down—or pull him closer, just to see if he would burn the way she did.
She stepped forward.
He didn't turn, but his voice sliced through the silence. "Couldn't stay away, could you?"
Vexaria bristled at the arrogance dripping from his tone. "I'm not here for you, Prince. I'm here for answers."
Now he turned, dark eyes locking onto hers like a predator sensing the shift in the air. "Then ask."
She folded her arms, meeting his gaze without flinching. "Why am I still here?"
Xypheron tilted his head slightly, as if amused by the question. "Because you haven't left."
She clenched her jaw. "Don't play games with me."
His smirk deepened as he stepped around the table, closing the space between them. "Oh, but you love our games, don't you?"
Her breath hitched when he came close enough that she could feel the heat radiating off him. Too close. But she refused to back down.
"This isn't a game," she said through gritted teeth. "You keep me here, dangling between threat and temptation. What is it you really want, Xypheron? Power? Obedience? Or is it something else?"
His eyes darkened, something unreadable flickering through them. For the first time, he didn't have a quick, cutting response.
Then, slowly, he reached up, tracing a gloved finger along the edge of her jaw.
Vexaria shuddered at the contact. It was featherlight, barely there, yet it sent a pulse of heat through her veins. She hated how easily he got under her skin, how her body reacted even as her mind screamed at her to push him away.
"You already know what I want," he murmured.
Her throat went dry. "I won't be another one of your pawns."
He leaned in, his lips inches from hers, his voice a whisper of something dark and tantalizing. "No, Vexaria. You're not a pawn. You're the only one worth playing for."
Her breath caught.