CHAPTER 22 Aug 13, 2025 Alexander led me to the East Wing. Past the armory and the war rooms, past the stained glass saints and dead kings. No guards. No whispers. Just the echo of our footsteps and something bitter rising between us. He didn't say a word until we reached the music room. The one no one used. Dust hung in the air like breath that hadn't been exhaled. He opened the door, stepped inside, and waited. I followed. When I closed the door, he turned. "You lied to me," he said. No preamble. No buildup. Just fire. I froze. "What-?" "Don't," he snapped. "Don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about." I stared at him. "Riven," he said. The name hit like a slap. "He wasn't just some boy from your town. He was your fiancé ." My chest tightened. "It wasn't like that." "Then what was it?" His voice was sharp, rising. "You stood there, told me he was just a boy, and let me believe-let me feel -like I was the only one." "I didn't let you feel anything," I snapped. "You chose to." He took a step forward. "And you chose to lie." "I didn't lie," I said. "I just didn't tell you everything." He laughed, but there was no humor in it. "That's convenient." I folded my arms, defensive. "You don't get to act betrayed. You're the prince. You're used to secrets. You keep plenty of your own." "None about people who held my heart in their hands," he said, voice raw now. "None about people who still clearly matter to you." "He doesn't," I said too fast. Alexander narrowed his eyes. "Then why hide it?" I looked down. "Because I didn't want you to look at me differently. To think I was someone else's first. To think I was used." His anger faltered-but only slightly. "That's not how I see you." "Isn't it?" I asked, throat tight. "You didn't think I was enough until everyone else wanted me." "That's not true." "No?" I stepped closer, heat rising. "Then what is?" His hands clenched at his sides. "I told you I wanted you. I chose you." "And I'm here," I said, voice low. "I should stay away," he murmured, voice cracking. "I should push you out before it's too late." "Then why haven't you?" I whispered. He didn't answer. He kissed me-like he needed it to survive. His mouth found mine with a desperation that made the walls blur. My hands curled into his coat. His breath shuddered against my skin like something feral trying to calm. There was nothing soft about the way he held me. Only need. Only honesty. I felt it in his grip-the tremor, the restraint. Like he was one heartbeat away from losing control and was terrified of what that might mean. "I don't want to hurt you," he breathed against my lips. "Then don't," I whispered. For a moment, I thought it might be enough. That if I held him, if I stayed steady, his breathing would slow. That my presence could pull him back from the edge-keep whatever cracked beneath his skin from breaking through. But it wasn't enough. His breath hitched. His hands trembled. "Don't move," he said, voice low and wrecked. "Please." Something was happening. His body tensed, like he was holding back a scream or a storm. Veins surged beneath his skin, his eyes darkening-sharp with something not entirely human. I reached for him again, but he stumbled back a step, shaking his head. "I'm fine," he muttered, jaw clenched. "I'm fine-I just need-" And then- The door slammed open. I jumped, ripping away from him like I'd been burned. Clarissa stormed in like fury incarnate. Her gown, once flawless, clung in tatters. Her hair was falling out of its perfect twist, pins catching in loose strands and twigs. Her eyes were wide, feral. She looked like she'd clawed her way out of hell-and brought the fire with her. Behind me, Alexander let out a slow, ragged breath-and when I turned to look at him, his eyes weren't his anymore. Not fully. Not safe. He was shaking with the effort of holding something in. Something ancient and rising. The transformation wasn't theatrical. It was the horror of watching someone you love fight their own body, and lose. And Clarissa saw it. She went pale, lips parting. Her voice, when it came again, was barely a whisper. "Oh my gods... it's true ."