CHAPTER 12 Sep 24, 2025 By breakfast, the drawing room was already buzzing-and Clarissa was at the center of it, glowing like she'd swallowed the sun. Her gown shimmered gold with every step, catching the light just enough to make sure no one missed her. She leaned lazily on the chaise, twirling a lock of hair and laughing-louder than usual, sharp enough to slice. "I knew I'd win," she said breezily, sipping from a crystal glass like it was her coronation. "Honestly, the archery challenge wasn't even difficult. Just a matter of focus. And form." She stood to demonstrate, raising her arm with a dramatic, delicate flair-like the draw of a bow was just another part of her morning routine. That challenge. Lady Isolde had announced it only two days ago. A tradition, she'd said, meant to showcase elegance under pressure. We each had one shot. Hit the target and win dinner with the prince. Clarissa had hit the outer ring. Not the best-but she'd tossed her hair, smiled sweetly, and curtsied just low enough for the judges to swoon. "He told me my laugh was charming," she added, her voice high and sugary. "Twice, actually. And he kissed my hand. Right here." She held it aloft like it had been blessed, and the girls gathered around her gasped as though royalty had truly touched her. No one questioned it. They never did when Clarissa spoke. But I did. Quietly, bitterly, in the part of me that still remembered how easily she lied-how quickly she twisted truth into spectacle. I didn't believe a single word. Not for a second. I tried to focus on the stitching in my lap, but my mind wandered. What did they talk about? Did he laugh too? Did he smirk at her the way he did at me? I hated that it even crossed my mind. Hated how Clarissa kept tossing glances my way like she wanted me to see her win. That night, when I returned to my room, I found a folded scrap of parchment tucked under the edge of the door. No seal. No crest. Just my name, written simply in dark ink. Inside, the message was short: "Could we talk? The solar. Midnight. -A" No title. Just a letter. Just enough. The solar was quiet when I slipped in. The moonlight stretched across the tiled floor, catching the frost on the glass in soft glints. I hugged my arms close as I stepped in. He was already there, seated on the window bench with one leg drawn up, hands loosely clasped. No guards. No posturing. Just him. "You came," Alexander said, rising to his feet. "You asked." "I wasn't sure you'd want to see me again," he said, running a hand through his hair. "After the garden... I crossed a line." I paused. "You didn't ask." "I didn't," he admitted. "But I haven't stopped thinking about it since." He took a breath, then added, quieter, "I didn't know how else to talk to you without everything around us listening." That landed. I understood that kind of silence. He walked toward me slowly, not like a prince, but like someone who wasn't used to asking permission. The space between us stretched tight like a thread I couldn't see but definitely felt. "Why did you enter?" he asked. No theatrics. No pageantry. Just a question dropped between us like it mattered more than anything else. I swallowed hard and said, "Because I had nowhere else to go." He didn't blink. Just looked at me like he was trying to find something in my face he didn't know how to name. "That's honest," he said. "Most of them say it's about love. Or duty." "They're lying." He smiled faintly. "That's what I thought." I stepped further into the room, careful not to touch the velvet drapes or the polished floor tiles. "Why did you invite me here?" "Because you don't fit," he said plainly. "And it bothers me that I notice." My throat tightened. "You mean I don't belong." "No," he said, voice quieter now. "I mean you don't fit the rules. You don't play the game." I didn't know what to say to that, so I said nothing. He moved to stand near the window again, the moonlight catching his profile. He looked less guarded tonight. Still sharp. Still dangerous. But not unreadable. "Everyone sees a crown and forgets it's a weight," he murmured. "You didn't." "I don't want a crown," I said. "That's why I trust you more than the ones who do." The room felt too small all of a sudden. I wrapped my arms around myself and turned away from his gaze. "You don't even know me." He stepped behind me, close enough that I felt the warmth of him across my skin. "No," he said. "But I want to." I turned then, heart in my throat. "Why me?" He didn't answer right away. Just stood there, watching me like I was something he wasn't supposed to want-and couldn't stop looking at anyway. The silence stretched too long. "I don't know," he said finally, voice low. "You weren't supposed to matter this much." My chest tightened. I didn't know what I wanted to hear, but that wasn't it. He stepped closer, slow and measured. "You don't act like the rest of them. You don't try to please me. You don't care who I am." "That's not true," I said, my voice hoarse. He stopped, inches away. "Then what do you want from me?" I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. His fingers brushed mine. Gently. Barely there. But it sent a jolt straight through me. "I think about that kiss," he said again, eyes searching mine. "More than I should." "You didn't ask," I said quietly. His jaw flexed. "I know. Would it change things if I asked now?" I should've stepped back. I should've said something sharp. But I didn't. I tilted my chin up. His hand found the side of my face, warm and steady, and then his lips were on mine-slow at first, then hungry. Like he'd been holding back since the garden and didn't know how to stop anymore. It made my knees weaken. It made my heart ache. I kissed him back. For one perfect, terrible moment, I forgot about everything else. The court. The Choice. Clarissa. Riven. Riven. The thought hit me like ice water. His mouth on mine back at home. His eyes at the archery field. The way he'd said my name like I still belonged to him. I pulled back suddenly, breath shaky, lips tingling. Alexander looked stunned, like I'd knocked the air out of him. "I can't," I whispered. His brow furrowed. "Why not?" "I don't know what this is," I said, backing toward the door. "And I don't know who I am in it. Not yet." He didn't try to stop me.