Amora spent the rest of the day pacing her chambers like a caged animal. Her mind wouldn't stop racing—Lewan's broken body, Godwynn's cruel words, the possibility of a child growing inside her.
Father is coming, Lewan had said. Which meant war was coming. Death was coming.
She had to find a way out before it was too late. But how? She was bound to Godwynn through a bond that would kill them both if broken. She was trapped in the heart of enemy territory with no allies, no weapons, no hope.
Or was she?
She thought back to the consummation ceremony, to the way Godwynn had looked at her. The way he'd touched her with something almost like reverence. The way his voice had gentled when he called her "little pet."
He wanted her. That much was obvious. And want could be exploited.
The thought made her stomach turn, but she forced herself to consider it. If she could make him trust her, even care for her, perhaps she could find opportunities. Perhaps she could convince him to spare Lewan. Perhaps...
Perhaps she could seduce him into lowering his guard long enough for her to escape.
It was a dangerous game. One that could get her killed—or worse. But what choice did she have?
She was still plotting when Arda arrived with her supper tray. The old woman set it down without a word, but Amora caught her arm before she could leave.
"Please," she said. "I need to ask you something."
Arda's black eyes were wary. "What is it?"
"The prince... what kind of man is he? Truly?"
The old woman's expression softened slightly. "You want to know if he's capable of mercy."
"I want to know if he's capable of anything besides cruelty."
Arda was quiet for a long moment. Then she sighed. "He is his father's son in many ways. Ruthless. Dangerous. But..." She hesitated. "Before his mother died, he was different. Softer. She was the light in this dark kingdom, and when she was gone, he closed himself off. Became the weapon his father wanted him to be."
"What happened to her?"
"King Drogath killed her," Arda said bluntly. "For defying him. The prince watched it happen. He was only a boy—barely fifty years old."
Horror crashed over Amora. Fifty years might be a child by Elven standards, but still old enough to remember. To be traumatized. To lose the only source of love in his life.
"Why are you telling me this?" she asked.
Arda met her eyes. "Because you asked. And because..." She glanced toward the door, then lowered her voice. "Because I see the way he looks at you, child. Like she used to look at the flowers in her garden. Like something precious and fragile. It frightens me."
"Why does it frighten you?"
"Because precious things in this castle don't survive," Arda said grimly. "And I would hate to see you break him the way his father broke his mother."
Before Amora could respond, the old woman left, the door clicking shut behind her.
Amora stared at her untouched food, Arda's words echoing in her mind. Godwynn had loved once. Had been soft once. Which meant there was still something in him worth reaching. Something she could use.
Or something she could destroy.
She hated herself for even thinking it, but desperation made monsters of them all.
Night fell, and with it came Godwynn.
He entered without knocking, still dressed in his armor. He looked exhausted—dark circles shadowed his eyes, and there was a tightness around his mouth.
"You didn't eat," he observed, glancing at her full tray.
"I wasn't hungry."
"Amora—"
"I'm sorry," she said quickly, before he could grow angry. She stood and moved toward him, adopting a softer tone. "I know you want me to keep my strength up. I just... I couldn't stop thinking about Lewan."
His expression darkened. "Your brother is not your concern right now."
"He'll always be my concern," she said softly. Then, gathering her courage, she reached out and touched his arm. "But you're right. I need to take care of myself." She picked up a piece of bread from the tray and took a bite, making sure he was watching. "I need to eat. I need to stay strong."
She took another bite, then offered the bread to him. "Have you eaten?"
He looked surprised by the gesture. "I... no. I've been in meetings with my father and the war council all day."
"Then eat with me," she said, injecting warmth into her voice that she didn't feel. "Please."
For a moment, he just stared at her, clearly suspicious of her sudden change in demeanor. But then he took the bread from her hand, his fingers brushing hers.
They ate in silence, but it wasn't the hostile silence from before. This was something stranger. Almost... comfortable.
When the food was gone, Godwynn stood and began removing his armor. Amora's heart began to race. She knew what came next. What he would expect from her.
But this time, she wouldn't fight it. This time, she would use it.
"Let me help you," she said, moving behind him to unbuckle the straps at his back.
He stiffened. "What are you doing?"
"Helping my husband," she said simply. "Isn't that what a wife does?"
"You've never called me that before. Your husband."
"Would you prefer I didn't?"
He was quiet for a moment. Then: "No. I... I don't mind it."
She continued working the buckles, her fingers steady despite her nerves. When the chest plate fell away, she helped him remove the rest, until he stood before her in just his linen undershirt and breeches.
He turned to face her, confusion and suspicion warring in his expression. "Why are you being so... amenable?"
She took a deep breath. This was it. The moment she had to sell the lie.
"Because you were right," she said, forcing herself to meet his eyes. "I am yours. Fighting it won't change that. And if I'm going to survive here, if Lewan is going to survive, then I need to accept my fate."
"Accept your fate," he repeated slowly, studying her face. "Or manipulate me into showing mercy?"
Her blood went cold. He'd seen right through her.
But instead of anger, something like amusement flickered in his eyes. "Did you think I wouldn't notice, little pet? I can feel your intentions through our bond. Your fear. Your desperation. Your scheming."
Shame burned through her. "I... I'm sorry, I just—"
"Don't apologize," he said, stepping closer. His hand came to rest on her waist. "I find your cunning rather... intriguing."
Before she could process that, his hands were on her, pulling her flush against him. She could feel his hardness pressing against her belly, could feel his heart pounding in rhythm with hers.
"You want to seduce me?" he whispered against her ear, his breath hot on her skin. "To make me weak for you? To wrap me around your little finger?"
"I—"
"Then do it," he challenged, pulling back to look at her. His eyes were blazing with dark intent. "Seduce me, Amora. Make me forget who I am. Make me forget why you're here. If you succeed..." He paused, his expression deadly serious. "If you succeed, I'll grant you one favor. Anything within my power."
Her mind raced. Anything within his power. That could mean Lewan's freedom. That could mean—
"But," he continued, his voice dropping to that dangerous octave, "if you fail, if I sense even a moment of hesitation or disgust from you, then I will take you to my father's throne room and let him watch while I claim you. Do we have an agreement?"
Horror and determination warred within her. But what choice did she have?
"Yes..." she whispered.
His smile was wicked. "Then begin, my pet. Seduce your husband."