The moment the throne room doors sealed behind them, Elena yanked her arm free of Soren's hold.
Or—she tried.
He let go only when she insisted, breath sharp, cheeks hot with a mix of humiliation and anger.
"You," she hissed in a low voice, "were awful in there."
Soren's steps slowed.
But he didn't turn.
"If I was," he said quietly, "it kept you alive."
"No." Elena marched around him, planting herself in his path. "No. You spoke like I was… nothing. Like I couldn't think. Like I was weak."
A muscle in his jaw twitched.
"That is what he needed to believe," Soren said. "That you are insignificant. Contained. Ignorable."
"Well, congratulations," she snapped, "you sold it."
His gaze finally lifted to hers.
And gods—there it was.
The heat he hadn't allowed in the throne room.
Sharp. Uncontrolled. Reckless.
"Elena," he murmured, "you think I care how you looked before the King?"
"You should," she shot back.
He stepped closer.
She stepped back—but the wall met her spine before she took two breaths.
Soren didn't cage her with arms.
He didn't need to.
His presence alone boxed her in, dark and consuming.
"I care," he said softly, "that he never looks at you the way Kharath did."
She froze.
The hallway suddenly too quiet. Too close.
Soren's eyes darkened with something raw and unbearably possessive.
"If he sees strength in you," he continued, "he'll test it. If he senses value, he'll use it. If he suspects I care—"
He stopped.
Breath shuddered through him.
Elena's stomach tightened. "If he suspects you care… what?"
Soren lifted a hand.
Hesitated.
Then lowered it again without touching her.
"…he will destroy you," he said simply.
Not dramatic. Not metaphorical.
Just fact.
Elena's anger flickered, thinned.
"If that's true," she whispered, "why bring me at all?"
"Because he wanted to see you," Soren replied. "And refusing him would have put you in more danger."
Her throat tightened.
"You could have warned me," she whispered. "You could have—just—told me you were going to act like that."
His expression shifted — a flash of genuine regret beneath the stone mask.
"I should have." A beat. "But I needed you to flinch at nothing he said. To believe it. To play the part."
"And if I hadn't?"
"Then he would have known."
"Known what?" she pressed.
Soren leaned in, so close his breath brushed her cheek.
"That you matter to me."
Her heart stumbled.
Her pulse, traitor that it was, leapt straight into her throat.
"And you think that's… dangerous?" she whispered.
"For you?" A humorless smile touched his mouth. "It is lethal."
Silence stretched thick between them.
Elena swallowed. "You were still cruel."
"Yes," Soren said. "Because cruelty protects far better than gentleness. At least in this place."
"And what about when it's just us?" she challenged. "Do you stay cruel then too?"
Soren's gaze dipped to her mouth.
A slow exhale left him, controlled only by force of will.
"No," he murmured. "That is when I become something far worse."
Her knees weakened.
"Soren—"
He pushed off the wall, stepping back before she could finish, a sharp return to formality.
"Come," he said, voice once again composed. "There are things you must know before anyone else speaks to you."
She stared at his retreating form.
Strong. Controlled. Unreadable.
And yet—
She had seen it. The edge under the ice. The desire under the restraint. The cruelty he wielded not to hurt her, but to hide her.
To protect her. To keep her from being seen by men far more dangerous than him.
Elena exhaled shakily and followed.
But she understood now. The cruelest thing Soren could ever do to her would be letting anyone else realize how deeply he already cared.