Vexaria sat up, running a hand through her tousled hair as the weight of Xypheron's words settled over her. I don't want it to end here. She had spent so long resisting him, keeping her walls high, yet now those same walls felt fragile—on the verge of collapse.
Xypheron remained where he was, propped on one arm, watching her with an unreadable expression. There was no smugness, no arrogant smirk—just quiet intensity. It was unsettling. She had expected him to revel in his victory, to use this moment to tighten his grip on her. But he didn't.
Instead, he let her breathe.
"I should go," she muttered, but she didn't move.
His gaze darkened. "You could." A pause. "But you won't."
Her jaw clenched. "Don't tell me what I will or won't do."
"I don't have to." His voice was calm, certain. "You're still here."
She hated that he was right.
Letting out a frustrated sigh, she pushed herself off the bed, pacing toward the window. Outside, the night stretched endlessly, the city below cloaked in darkness. Everything felt different now.
"What do you want from me?" she asked without turning around.
Xypheron sat up, resting his forearms on his knees. "What if I told you I don't know?"
She glanced at him over her shoulder. His face was unreadable, but there was something in his voice—something real. That scared her more than any of his threats.
Vexaria had always known how to deal with cruelty, with arrogance, with power plays. But this? This quiet honesty? It left her defenseless.
"Then you're playing a dangerous game, Prince."
He let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. "Vexaria, I think we both lost that game a long time ago."
She swallowed hard, gripping the windowsill. He wasn't wrong. Whatever had begun between them was no longer just a battle for control. It had transformed into something else—something neither of them had expected.
She turned back to face him, her eyes narrowing. "This doesn't mean I trust you."
Xypheron smirked, but there was no mockery in it. "Good. It wouldn't be fun if you did."
Vexaria rolled her eyes, but the tension in the air had shifted. Lighter. Less dangerous. At least for now.
But she knew the war between them was far from over.
And some lines, once crossed, could never be redrawn.