The castle was too quiet.
The old stones seemed to breathe around me, every groan and creak of the fortress walls sending a shiver down my spine. The kind of silence that wasn't peaceful. The type that warned you something was coming. I tightened my fingers around the blade strapped under my jacket, a reflex, a comfort, as I slipped through the halls.
The council meeting was a blur, all snarling, in politics, and brittle smiles. Cash stood astride, announcing to the world that I was his mate. My chest tightened painfully at the memory. I didn't want it. Didn't ask, I didn't? But somehow, every time I tried to shove the bond away, it tightened, ned like a noose.
And Cash… Damn him. He didn't push. Didn't demand. He just *was* steady, silent, a constant, burning presence that stripped me down to my bones without even touching me. At least not yet. His hands brushing my skin earlier made my body flush hot. My heart thudded against my ribs, traitorous and furious.
I needed space. I needed air. I needed to stop thinking about him like *that*.
A sharp click echoed from somewhere down the corridor, snapping me back to the present. I froze, senses flaring. Footsteps. Soft. Careful. Not a patrol. Not Cash. Someone sneaking. I slipped into a shadowed alcove, heart hammering, and watched as two figures hurried down the hallway, cloaks drawn up, heads bowed.
They didn't see me, but I saw them. One of them, a small figure with pale hair, threw a nervous glance over their shoulder. Elizabeth. I bared my teeth silently. What are you up to, princess?
I followed. Silent, patient, a ghost in the walls, they moved deeper into the castle, toward the old wing near the north tower, a part of the fortress even the warriors avoided. I kept my distance, slipping from shadow to shadow. Finally, they ducked into a side room, closing the heavy door behind them. I crept closer, my heart pounding.
The door didn't latch fully. I pressed my ear to the crack. Muffled voices drifted out.
"I don't care if she's his mate," Elizabeth hissed. "She's nothing. A rogue slut with a mouth too big for her own good."
My hands fisted at my sides.
"She's dangerous," another voice said — a man's, deep and gravelly. "Not just to you. To all of us. The council will turn if she gets enough support."
"And they will," Elizabeth snapped. "Cash paraded her like a trophy. They're already whispering about bloodlines, prophecy—"
"Then what do you propose?"
A long, tense pause. Then Elizabeth's voice — cold and lethal: "We remove her. Quietly. Before the bond seals. Before she can claim any real power."
My blood turned to ice. The other man cursed low. "That's treason."
"It's survival," Elizabeth said sharply. "You want to bend the knee to a filthy rogue? Watch our bloodlines polluted?"
The man hesitated. Then, the sound of a reluctant grunt. "Fine. But if this goes wrong."
"It won't," Elizabeth said, voice silky with confidence.
A shuffle of movement. Then silence.
I backed away slowly, breath coming hard. They were planning to kill me. Of course, they were. I shouldn't have been surprised. But the betrayal, the pettiness of it, still burned.
I should go to Cash. Tell him what I heard. Let him handle it.
But…
The thought of running to him and being the damsel who needed to be saved twisted something ugly in my gut. I didn't want to be protected. I tried to fight. I wanted to survive on my terms.
Still…
A small, treacherous voice whispered inside me: *You no longer have to fight alone.*
I shoved it down and slipped away into the shadows.
By the time I returned to the west wing, the castle was fully asleep except for the guards in the central corridors. I moved quickly, wanting the privacy of my room and the safety of walls and locked doors.
But fate had other plans.
I rounded a corner and slammed straight into a solid wall of muscle. Again. My heart stuttered violently.
"Shit," I muttered, stepping back instinctively.
Cash towered over me, his blue eyes glinting in the torchlight. He looked wrecked — hair rumpled, shirt untucked, jaw shadowed with dark stubble. Wild, feral, and tired in a way that made my chest ache unexpectedly.
"You were gone," he said, voice low and rough.
"I needed air," I said sharply. "Not that it's your business."
His jaw ticked, but he didn't rise to the bait. "You heard them," he said instead.
It wasn't a question.
I went still. "You knew?"
He nodded once. "I didn't want you to worry until I could handle it."
Rage flared in my chest. "Handle it?!" I snapped. "They're planning to kill me, Cash!"
His hands fisted at his sides. "I know."
He stepped closer, and I stepped back until my shoulders hit the wall. Pinned. Again. His arms came up on my side, braced against the stone. Not trapping. Not touching. But close. Gods, too close. I could feel the heat pouring off him, the scent of him sinking into my lungs until breathing was impossible.
"You are not dying on my watch," he said, voice lethal with promise.
Something hot and desperate rose in my throat. I hated this. Hated needing him. Hated how some small, broken part of me wanted to trust him.
Cash leaned down, his forehead nearly brushing mine. "You're mine," he said, low and raw. "And I protect what's mine."
"I'm not yours," I whispered back, but it came out as a lie—a soft, desperate lie.
His breath shuddered across my skin. I could feel the tension coiling in him, the barely leashed violence, the need. He was holding back for me. Only for me. The weight of that wrecked something inside me.
My fingers twitched at my sides. I wanted to shove him away. I tried to pull him closer. I wanted
"Fuck it," he muttered under his breath.
And then, without touching me, he stepped closer, his body crowding mine, his mouth brushing my ear. "I would burn this fucking castle to the ground for you," he whispered.
The world tilted under my feet. I didn't move. I couldn't. For one heartbeat, one suspended, electrified moment, we just breathed each other in. There was no kiss, no claiming, just raw, aching want.
She turned her face slightly, not even thinking, and the tip of her nose brushed his jaw—the smallest contact, but it detonated something between them.
He jerked back, swearing softly, dragging a hand through his hair like he was in pain.
She sagged against the wall, her knees shaking.
The bond between them throbbed like a living thing. Alive. Hungry. Starving.
But neither of them moved. If they crossed that line now, there would be no going back.
Cash dragged in a rough breath. "You should get some sleep," he said, voice ragged.
"You too, King," she said, steadying her voice.
His lips twitched into something that wasn't quite a smile but wasn't quite safe. Then he turned and walked away, leaving her trembling in the shadows.
And for the first time in years, she realized something terrifying: she didn't want to fight alone anymore. Not if it meant fighting him.
Cash walked away, each step a battle against the raw, possessive urge to drag her back to his chambers and keep her safe. He knew her, though. She wouldn't stand for it. She was a fighter and a survivor, and he respected that, even as it tore him apart to leave her vulnerable.
He reached his chambers and slammed the heavy oak door shut, the sound echoing in the vast room. He needed to think, to plan. Elizabeth's treachery was not surprising, but it was a complication he didn't need. He had known she would not accept Elara, a rogue, as his mate. The princess had always been ambitious, ruthless, and fiercely protective of her family's legacy.
He paced the room, his mind racing. He could have Elizabeth arrested, but that would only fuel the flames of dissent within the council. He must play this carefully to expose her plot without causing a full-blown rebellion. And he needed to do it quickly before Elizabeth could act on her threat.
But more than anything, he needed to protect Elara. He knew she didn't want his protection and craved independence and self-reliance. But he couldn't stand by and watch her walk into danger. She was his mate, and their bond was growing stronger every day, regardless of her resistance.
He stopped pacing and stared out the window, his gaze fixed on the horizon. He knew what he had to do. He would play Elizabeth's game, lure her into a trap, and expose her treachery for all to see. He would do it in a way that allowed Elara to stand tall and prove her strength and worth to the council.
He would protect her, not by sheltering her, but by allowing her to fight her own battles with him by her side.
He just hoped she would let him.