The door closed.
Ivanka was left alone with the ring on her finger, the status she had fought for, and the bitter truth that none of it was enough to make Demian hers.
In the cold palace corridor, Demian leaned briefly against the wall, drawing in a long breath, holding back the waves of heat still crashing through his body.
He may have lost the game of power that night.
But one thing he had not lost.
He refused.
And that refusal was the only truth he still possessed.
Demian did not walk far after closing the door to the bridal chamber.
His steps halted at the end of the corridor, his body leaning against the cold stone wall. Heat still pulsed beneath his skin, his breathing not yet fully steady. But before he could calm himself further, quick footsteps approached.
"Asher."
