CHAPTER 16 Aug 13, 2025 I couldn't stop hearing Riven's voice. His words clung to me like ash. Every step I took felt haunted by them. He's not the hero in your story, Marianne. The palace didn't feel like home anymore-it felt like a trap, laced with warnings I hadn't known how to read until now. Now every sound felt sharp. Every shadow, suspicious. Every glance, barbed with meaning. At breakfast, Clarissa looked radiant. She wore emerald green-exactly the same shade as the Queen. It was a declaration. A visual reminder that some girls knew how to win without trying. Her laughter rang through the hall like music written to mock me. Sweet. Cruel. Purposeful. I sat in gray. Plain, dull, barely there. Like dust. Like nothing. Like exactly what they all thought I was. Alexander hadn't spoken to me since the Eliminations. Not a word. Not a glance that lasted more than a second. But I felt him. His eyes tracked me when he thought I wasn't looking. I caught the smallest shift in his posture when I walked in-like the air changed, and he noticed. Like something in him wanted to say something but didn't. Then Clarissa reached for his hand. Just... reached across the table, skin brushing silverware, and took it like it belonged to her. Fingers intertwined, her pinky tracing lazy circles against his wrist. She didn't even look at him when she did it-she was too busy talking about some duchess's scandal and how peacocks were going out of fashion. He didn't pull away. I felt the heat crawl up my neck before I even registered it. My stomach twisted. I tried to breathe, to focus on the cup in front of me, but even the tea tasted wrong-sharp, metallic. I hated that it stung. I hated how still I had to force myself to sit. Because I remembered what it felt like when he looked at me like that. Now he was letting her touch him. Maybe he liked it. Maybe I was the only fool who thought it meant something. A crash behind me-a tray hitting the floor-and I jumped. Too fast. A few heads turned. I didn't care. I pushed my chair back. "Excuse me," I muttered to no one, already walking. The corridor outside was cold and too quiet. I didn't know where I was going. I just knew I couldn't stay there another second, watching her win. Not again. "Running again?" a voice called from behind a column. I stopped. Riven stepped out from the shadows near the archway to the servant's hall, arms crossed, eyes already on me. "I was wondering when you'd show up," he said without looking at me, like he could smell me coming. "You always did love the shadows," I said, arms folded tightly. "Figures you'd crawl back into mine." He turned, and for a moment, I saw something vulnerable slip across his face. Then it vanished, just like it always had when it mattered most. "I made a mistake choosing Clarissa," he said simply. "But you think he's better? You think spoiled brats like him don't know how to charm?" I narrowed my eyes. "You're jealous. You hate that someone else saw me first this time." His jaw twitched. "No. I'm protective." "Of me?" I laughed, sharp as a blade. "That's rich, coming from the boy who kissed someone else and then pretended not to know why I left." His voice dropped, low and rough. "There are rumors, Marianne. About him. About something dark-something wrong. They say he's cursed." He looked at me, searching my face. "I don't know if it's true," he admitted. "But I know this-he's not safe. And if you stay too close, whatever it is... it won't just ruin him. It'll ruin you too." My voice rose before I could stop it. "You don't get to warn me. Not after what you did." "I never stopped caring," he said, stepping closer. Too close. "You think I wouldn't burn down this entire kingdom if it meant keeping you safe?" I held my ground, chest tight, throat burning. "Then maybe you should've thought about that before groping my sister." His eyes flicked away, just for a second. As if the truth stung worse than he expected. "I didn't mean to hurt you," he muttered. "You were the only thing I ever got right." "But you did hurt me," I replied, voice shaking. "And now you're acting like that gives you the right to judge him?" Riven's eyes darkened like a storm rolling in. "I know men like him. I was raised among them. I am one of them. And I know how it ends. He won't choose you in the end. Tell me, Marianne-how long do you think it'll take before he shows you what he really is?" My stomach twisted. "Stop." His voice dropped, low and dangerous. "You think you're different? That he won't use you the way they all do?" Before I could answer, footsteps cut through the garden gravel behind me. Alexander stood just beyond the arch, flanked by two guards, his posture like carved obsidian. His eyes found mine first-then shifted to Riven like a blade slipping from its sheath. "Is there a problem here?" he asked coolly, voice silencing even the wind. Riven's jaw clenched. "No, Your Highness. Just an old friend reminding her where she came from." Alexander stepped forward, just once, closing the space between us like a quiet threat. "Funny. I don't remember asking for your opinion." Riven didn't move. "And I didn't realize speaking to someone was treason." Alexander's voice stayed calm, but I could hear it-tight, precise. "I was speaking as the prince she's here for." Riven's jaw flexed. He looked at me, like he wanted to say more, but couldn't. Not with Alexander standing there. Not with everything unsaid curling like smoke in the air between us. Alexander didn't look at Riven again. His eyes were on me. "Marianne," he said, quietly now. "Walk with me." It wasn't a request. Not exactly. And still, I nodded. I stepped past Riven-close enough to feel the heat of him, the way his fingers curled like he wanted to reach for me and didn't. Then I followed Alexander down the hall, my heart thudding too fast, too loud.