CHAPTER 15 Aug 13, 2025 That night, I couldn't sleep. The rumors curled beneath my skin like thorns. Every breath hurt. Every heartbeat echoed with the things I didn't say out loud. I told myself I didn't care. But I did. I hated that I cared. So I slipped from my room. Again. The palace was colder after midnight. Lonelier too. My bare feet padded down the hall like they had a map, even if I didn't know where I was going. Maybe I did. Maybe I didn't want to admit it. Curiosity, I told myself. Or something more dangerous. Maybe I just wanted to see the truth. Maybe even him. The East Wing stood quiet, a sleeping mouth full of secrets. My hand hovered near the final door, the one I swore I wouldn't touch again. My fingertips brushed the cold wood. That's when a voice sliced through the dark. "Still chasing men who don't deserve you?" I froze. Riven. He stepped out from behind the marble pillars like a ghost carved from moonlight. He wore black. Always black. But something about him had changed. Sharper edges. Tired eyes. His hair was longer. His mouth tighter. He looked beautiful in the cruel way memories always are. My breath caught in my throat. "What are you doing here?" "I could ask you the same thing," he said, stepping closer. "But I already know. Same as always. Looking for something that hurts." "I'm not-" "Don't lie to me, Mari," he snapped. "You never were good at it." "I thought you were gone for good." "I was." He looked down, then back at me. "But then I heard about the prince. About you. And I figured I should see it for myself." "You're late," I said bitterly. "The damage was done months ago." "I thought you'd at least pretend to miss me," he said, voice low and unreadable. I didn't answer. "You don't write," he added. "Don't ask about me. But I turn my back for a season, and now you're parading around with the Prince?" "I'm not parading," I snapped. He took a step closer. "That's what you're worried about? The word?" "I'm worried you think you can show up and-" "And what?" he cut in, bitter. "Protect you? Warn you? Because I know this place better than you do. And I know him better too." "I don't need your warnings," I hissed. "Especially not from you." Riven's eyes narrowed. "You think he's different from the rest of them?" "I know he is." "You're wrong." His voice dropped into a growl. "He's worse." I turned to walk away. I couldn't do this. Not tonight. Not with the taste of everything else still burning in my mouth. But Riven grabbed my wrist. "You don't know who he is," he said, his voice hard. I tried to shake him off, but his grip held. "You think this is a story?" he said. "That he's some tragic prince and you're the girl who changes everything?" My stomach twisted. "I've seen the way he looks at girls," Riven went on. "Like they're new wine. Like he's already thinking about how long they'll last." "Let me go," I said, trying to stay calm, but the heat in my voice cracked through. "You think you're different?" he asked. "You won't be. None of them are. They fall for that voice, that face. And then one day they wake up and realize they never mattered." My throat tightened. "I know who you are," I said quietly. "And I know why you care." His hand faltered. I pulled away. But just before I turned the corner, his voice reached me again-low and bitter. "He's not the hero in your story, Marianne. No matter how good he is at pretending."