The hours dragged.
Elira paced across the soft rug of the prince's chamber, back and forth, until she nearly wore holes in the floor. No guards entered. No food. No explanation. Just silence and flickering torchlight.
They know you're here.
His last words clung to her like a chill.
She glanced at the door again. Locked. She had tried the handle. Twice.
"Is this how royalty treats their guests?" she muttered, flopping into the chair near the balcony. "Kidnap them, threaten them, trap them in fancy rooms…"
But deep down, she wasn't just angry. She was confused. Scared. A strange part of her… curious.
Then, finally, the doors burst open.
He stepped in.
Prince Elric.
But this time, his entire posture was different—tight, coiled, like a storm barely held back. His cloak was thrown off as he crossed the room and poured himself a goblet of dark wine, downing it in one gulp.
Elira stood. "You're back."
He didn't look at her. "Clearly."
She frowned. "What happened at the wall?"
Elric exhaled harshly, setting the goblet down with a loud clink. "There was an attack. Not just bandits. They were marked—symbol of the Forbidden Ones. The same cult that guarded the Mirror Realm."
"The Mirror Realm?" she echoed.
He turned toward her slowly, his eyes tired but sharp. "You weren't just seen, Elira. You were sensed. The moment you entered this world… their magic trembled. And now they're looking for you."
Her heart skipped. "Why me?"
"I'm trying to figure that out," he snapped. "But you're not giving me much to work with, are you?"
She raised her voice. "Because I don't know anything! I'm not part of your cults or curses—I was working a double shift at a bookstore yesterday!"
He looked at her then. Really looked. His jaw clenched, his eyes dark.
Then, in a low, dangerous tone—
"You don't understand what you are. But I do. And now so do others. That makes you a threat. And I won't let anyone else take you."
He stepped closer.
"You're mine now. My responsibility. My problem. And I'm not letting the kingdom—or my father—use you like a pawn."
Elira stepped back. "Use me for what?"
He didn't answer directly. Instead, he stared at her for a long, heavy moment. Then, he spoke, his voice like steel wrapped in velvet.
"You're marrying me. Next week."
Elira froze. "What… what did you just say?"
"You heard me."
Her voice cracked. "Are you insane?! You can't just—decide that! I don't even know you!"
"You will," he said, his tone cold and final. "And the kingdom will believe it's a political bond. A strategy. But it's more than that."
She stared at him, mouth open, shaking her head. "No. Absolutely not. I'm not part of this madness."
Elric's eyes flared. He strode forward and grabbed her wrist—not painfully, but firmly. Possessively.
"You don't have a choice," he said through clenched teeth. "This is the only way to protect you. To keep you close. If you step outside this room without my name on your tongue, they'll tear you apart in ways you can't imagine."
His grip tightened slightly as he leaned in, face close.
"I won't let them have you."
Elira's breath caught.
Her heart beat so fast it hurt.
"I don't belong to anyone," she whispered.
He released her wrist slowly, eyes burning. "You will. Soon."
And with that, he turned away, his cloak billowing behind him as he stormed toward the balcony.
Leaving her trembling in the fire-lit silence.