## Chapter 31 – The Warning Behind His Eyes
Zara sat still at the edge of the bed, her fingers clenched in her lap and her heartbeat racing in her chest. The air in the room was heavy—so heavy she could barely breathe. She heard him before she saw him. The deliberate footsteps. The way the door clicked shut behind him. Everything Prince Damon did was a message. He didn't speak yet. He didn't have to.
Zara slowly raised her eyes, expecting rage. But what she saw in Damon's gaze made her stomach turn. It wasn't just anger. It was something colder. Sharper.
He stood there, arms folded behind his back, dressed in a black tunic that made his figure look more commanding than usual. His crown was gone, but his power lingered in every inch of his presence. She looked away quickly, not out of fear—but out of guilt. He had seen the scene earlier at the garden. She knew it.
He walked over to the table near the window, his silence pressing down on her like a boulder. Then, he finally spoke.
"You seem to be making friends, Princess."
His voice was calm. Too calm.
Zara flinched slightly. She opened her mouth, but no words came. What was she supposed to say? That she wasn't trying to flirt? That she hadn't meant for the knight's hand to linger too long?
Damon turned around and faced her fully, leaning slightly against the table. "Did he touch you before or after you smiled at him like that?"
Her heart stopped.
Zara stood, shaking her head. "It wasn't like that," she whispered. "I didn't do anything wrong."
"No?" he asked, cocking his head. "You were laughing. In public. With a man."
"He's a guard!" she said, a bit louder now. "He was just being polite. I—I dropped my shawl and—"
Damon raised a hand, and her voice died in her throat.
"Let me make something clear to you, Zara," he said, his tone still dangerously calm. "In this palace, every gesture has meaning. Every smile, every glance, every touch. And I will not have my bride behaving like a common harlot in front of my men."
Her knees wobbled. The insult stung like a slap.
"I'm not a harlot," she whispered.
Damon stepped forward. "Then stop acting like one."
Tears welled in her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. She pressed her lips together and looked away, chest rising and falling quickly.
"You've embarrassed me," he continued. "You embarrassed yourself."
"I didn't mean to," she said, her voice cracking.
"Meaning has nothing to do with it," he growled. "Perception is everything. You're the future Queen. Act like it."
Zara swallowed hard, feeling the burn in her throat. She didn't understand the rules of this new life. She didn't understand him. One moment, he kissed her like she was his air. The next, he talked like he hated her.
When she finally found the strength to look up again, he was already at the door. She took a trembling step forward.
"Damon," she said quietly.
He paused, his hand on the handle.
"Do you hate me?" she asked. "Do you...regret choosing me?"
His shoulders stiffened. For a moment, he said nothing. Then he turned slightly, just enough for her to see his profile.
"I didn't choose you," he said. "Fate did. And now I have to clean up the consequences."
Then he walked out.
---
Zara fell back onto the bed, her legs no longer able to carry her weight. She lay there staring at the ceiling, her heart breaking into a thousand invisible pieces. The humiliation. The confusion. The constant fear of making a mistake. How long would she have to endure this?
A soft knock pulled her from her spiral. Before she could answer, the door creaked open.
It was Mara, her maid.
"Your Highness," Mara said gently, her eyes filled with worry. "Are you alright?"
Zara shook her head and sat up, wiping her face. "I'm fine."
"You're not," Mara said, coming closer. "I heard what he said. The entire west corridor probably heard."
Zara looked at her, stunned. "You were outside?"
Mara nodded slowly. "I couldn't leave. I was worried he might...lose his temper."
Zara closed her eyes. "He didn't hit me."
"I know," Mara replied. "But words hurt too."
Zara bit her lip.
"Your Highness, may I ask you something?"
She nodded.
"Why do you never defend yourself?"
Zara blinked. "I do—"
"No," Mara interrupted, "you explain. You apologize. You cry. But you never fight back."
Zara's voice was small. "What good would it do? He's the Prince."
"And you're the Princess," Mara replied. "You have power too, Zara. You don't see it, but you do. He can hurt you, yes—but you can affect him in ways he doesn't understand yet. That's why he gets angry."
Zara stared at her, trying to process the words.
"Anger often hides fear," Mara said softly. "Fear of losing control. Fear of feeling something that can't be managed."
Zara scoffed lightly. "You think Damon is afraid of me?"
"I think he's afraid of how much you can change him," Mara answered. "And I think you're afraid of that too."
---
The next morning, Zara woke up to find a note on her dresser. Her heart pounded as she unfolded it.
> *You're to be dressed and ready by noon. We are visiting the Council together.*
> – *Damon*
Visiting the Council? With him?
She knew what that meant. A public appearance. Royal couples were expected to put on a show—unity, poise, mutual respect. Damon wasn't just asking her to come. He was demanding she play her part.
Mara helped her dress in a silver gown with embroidery that sparkled in the light. Her hair was pulled into a loose braid woven with pearls. The moment Zara looked in the mirror, she barely recognized herself.
"You look like a Queen already," Mara whispered.
Zara nodded, but her heart was in knots. She wasn't sure she was ready for this. Not after the way he spoke to her last night.
When the carriage arrived, Damon didn't speak. He only gave her a nod of approval and offered his arm.
She hesitated.
But then she placed her hand in the crook of his elbow, and they walked forward together.
The crowd bowed. The guards saluted. But Zara didn't care about any of that.
All she wanted was to understand the storm that lived inside this man beside her. And maybe, just maybe, survive it.