It wouldn’t change anything, but it was a small act of defiance—a silent declaration to herself.
For now, it wouldhave to be enough.
The gravel crunched softly beneath Reiya’s slippers as she moved through the interior gardens. The usual bustle of court life had faded, leaving only the distant hum of a gathering crowd in the arena to the south side of the palace. Summer flowers and sun-baked earth scented the air, but even the fragrant blooms couldn’t dislodge the weight in her chest.
She didn’t hear the footsteps, only felt the sudden pull of a hand around her wrist—a sharp tug. She stumbled off the path, swallowed by the shade of a pergola nearly hidden beneath purple wisterias.
Her pulse leapt.
His name left her lips in a whisper. “Castiel.”
He was built like a rapier—lean, swift, purposeful. His copper waves fell just shy of unruly, catching the light like driftwood kissed by sun and salt. He wore a tailored navy waistcoat over a crisp white shirt, his high collar fastened with a silver pin boasting the Caerelle insignia, trousers fitted and tucked seamlessly into polished black boots.
Simple. Refined. Familiar.
He didn’t release her. His warm grip evoked memories of stolen moments, laughter, and freedom. Urgency coiled in his fingers, as if letting go would unravel everything.
His chestnut eyes searched hers, a storm swirling beneath the surface. They flickered over her cheeks, her jaw, before landing on the pendant at her throat.
His gaze softened. “You’re still wearing it.”
Her fingers brushed the crystal. “They wanted me to wear the pearls, but I couldn’t.”
The ghost of a smile touched his lips, though his jaw remained tense. “Good. You shouldn’t have to do any of this, dove.”
His words, the familiar moniker, cracked the walls she’d built around herself, the ones she’d relied upon to get through the day.
“It doesn’t matter what I want,” she whispered, blinking to chase away the burn in her eyes. “The kingdom doesn’t care about my wishes.”
“It should.” Castiel’s thumb traced the inside of her wrist. His gaze blazed. “This whole tournament, parading you like a prize—it’s barbaric.”
“I know.” Her voice broke under the admission. “But does knowing change anything?”
“I could take you away from this,” he said, voice low. “Say the word, dove, and we’ll leave. Just you and me.”
She let her fingers linger against his for a beat longer before pulling away. “Then what?”
He gave a strained laugh. “We’ll go anywhere. Be free.”
A faint smile flickered across her lips. “We’re not children anymore, running from our tutors. Life doesn’t let us escape so easily.”
His jaw clenched, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he stepped closer, his presence curling around her like the scents of wisteria and earth.
“I’d still try,” he murmured. “If it meant you’d be mine.”
Her throat burned. She pressed a hand to his chest to steady herself, but her fingers trembled against his waistcoat.
“It’s too late for that,” she whispered. “But seeing you makes it more bearable.”
The shadow in his eyes eased, and, for a fleeting moment, she saw the boy he used to be—the one who carried her through these gardens on his back, promising they’d always have each other.
“Then let me have tonight,” he said, quieter now. “Dance with me at the celebration ball. One dance in front of them all, so they’d know you’re still mine in spirit.”
The words hung between them. More than a request, it was a promise to hold onto what little they still had.
“Always,” she whispered, her voice breaking.
Before her parents sent someone looking for her, she pressed a kiss to his cheek. When she pulled away, her heart ached—raw and angry—as if a piece of herself stayed with him. One she could never take back.
