Soren sat where she had told him—on the carved wooden chair near the window—hands resting on his knees, posture rigid with the effort of containing whatever had followed him out of the council chamber.
Elena stayed standing.
Distance felt necessary. So did oxygen.
She crossed her arms, pulse still uneven.
"We need to talk," she said.
"We do," Soren agreed.
The room fell into a taut quiet. His gaze never left her—not oppressive, but searching, measuring, trying to understand a reaction she hadn't fully processed herself.
"Elena," he said finally, "sit."
It wasn't a command. That almost made it worse.
She shook her head. "I'm fine here."
His jaw flexed—annoyance edged with something softer, something he clearly didn't like showing.
"Elena," he repeated, "you look like you're preparing to run."
"Maybe I am."
Something shifted behind his eyes, sharpening. Not anger. Not hurt.
Something darker. Something intimate.
His voice dropped, low and unyielding:
"Elena… wherever you run, I'm faster." A heartbeat. "And I will catch you."
Her breath stopped.
Not because it sounded like a threat—but because it sounded like a promise she didn't know how to swallow.
"That isn't helping," she muttered, heart racing.
His expression didn't change, but she felt him noticing her pulse anyway.
"Ask what you want to know," he said. "I owe you that much."
She exhaled shakily. "Fine. What were the markings in the forest when I arrived?"
His posture tightened—just a fraction, but enough for her to see.
"You saw them," he said.
"Yes."
Soren leaned back slightly, gaze drifting to the mountains beyond the window.
"They are old," he said. "Older than this citadel. Older than any written record. They appear where the boundaries between realms grow thin."
"Realms," she echoed. "Plural."
He nodded once. "There are places where the world… leaks. The old forces leave remnants."
"Elaborate," she pushed.
His mouth tightened. "They existed before kingdoms. Before speech. Before we shaped order from chaos. They do not speak or bargain. They simply are."
"And they brought me here?"
"I don't know," he said quietly. "But they do nothing without purpose."
"Which is… what? Am I supposed to fix something? Break something? Glow in the dark?"
One corner of his mouth twitched—somewhere between amusement and exasperation.
"Elena."
"Don't 'Elena' me. I think I deserve more than cryptic forest poetry."
His eyebrows lifted—slightly impressed, slightly irritated.
"You are here," he said, "because something awakened. Something dormant. Something no one yet understands."
"Including you?"
"Especially me."
A flicker of vulnerability crossed his expression—gone almost as fast as it appeared.
She barely registered it, because he stood.
Oh no.
He rose from the chair with deliberate slowness, like a man approaching a wild creature he didn't want to spook—but very much intended to get close to.
He crossed the room.
Purposefully.
Perfect. He's standing. He's coming closer. Amazing. Where is HR for this dimension?
He stopped in front of her—far too close. Warmth radiated from him, brushing her skin like an invisible touch.
His hand lifted—slowly—hovering near her cheek.
Just hovering.
Close enough for her breath to stutter. Close enough to make her body betray her brain.
"I will not harm you," he said softly.
"You broke a chair the size of a compact car," she whispered.
"A poorly built chair."
She stared at him. "That is not the reassuring point you think it is."
A ghost of a smirk touched his mouth. "Noted."
She hated that her stomach tightened at that tiny expression. Hated it.
"Soren… today in the council, you scared me."
His smirk vanished.
"I know."
Her throat tightened.
"I was raised to be a weapon," he said. "Before I was allowed to become anything else."
"That's not an excuse."
"It is context."
He stepped even closer. She hit the wall behind her—not hard, but enough to realize there was nowhere left to go.
Great. Perfect. Cornered by a gorgeous prince with poor furniture impulse control.
"Elena," he murmured, "I will never lose control with you."
"You can't know that."
"I do."
His hand hovered closer—still not touching, still somehow burning.
"You are not afraid of me," he said softly. "Not the way others are."
She swallowed. "How would you know?"
"Because you argue with me," he said, leaning in just a breath. "And because your eyes… never look away."
Her breath faltered.
He leaned in—not touching, not closing the distance fully—just enough for their shared air to feel electric.
"Whatever brought you here," he murmured, "it changed more than you realize."
Her pulse thundered.
He was inches from her.
She could feel the heat of him.The restraint.The pull.
He angled slightly closer—
A sharp knock shattered the moment.
Soren's body went still.
Another knock. Urgent. "Your Highness—the northern wardens request you. It's urgent."
A muscle in his jaw ticked. Fury, frustration, something deeper—all barely contained.
He stepped back slowly, as though pulling himself out of gravity's orbit.
"This conversation," he said, voice rough, "is not finished."
"I know," she whispered.
He paused at the doorway, eyes locked on her—dark, intense, unreadable.
Then he left.The door closed with a quiet click.
Minutes passed before Elena breathed normally again.
Another knock—soft this time.
"Elena? It's me."
Claire slipped in, eyes immediately assessing Elena's face.
"So," she said gently, "you and my brother… talked."
"Talked," Elena repeated weakly. "Sure. Let's call it that."
Claire sat beside her on the bed.
"Soren wasn't raised to be gentle. Expectations hardened him young. He learned to command through fear long before he learned anything else."
Elena stared at her hands. "That doesn't make it less terrifying."
"No," Claire agreed softly. "But it makes him human."
Elena looked up.
"There are stories," Claire continued. "Prophecies. That when the forest markings ignite, someone arrives to alter the balance of our realm."
Elena swallowed. "And you think that's me."
Claire squeezed her hand. "I think you're more important than you realize."
"And Soren?" Elena whispered.
Claire smiled—sad and knowing.
"He thinks you're the first thing in years he cannot control."A pause."And the first person he cannot lose."
Elena's breath caught.
The truth of it settled inside her—warm, dangerous, undeniable.