I’ve killed ambition in better men than Viscount Elias Caerwyn.

But he sits beside you now, laughing with you like he’s earned it—like he ever mattered in the games we used to play. And you? You sit there, eating with your hands like a savage. Grease on your lips, sleeves rolled up, telling stories to men who don’t even know who you are. Or who you were.

You think this is freedom?

You think this little act of rebellion—this tavern, these people, that smile—will undo everything we built together in court, across years of bloodless war? You can vanish from the palace. You can vanish from the noble halls and burn your future at the prince’s feet. But don’t think for a second you can vanish from me.

I stood there when the crown prince spat his rejection like a drunk with too much pride and too little power. “I will not marry you. Not now, not when the kingdom crumbles, and certainly not for spectacle.”

And you—you curtsied. Walked out like you’d planned it. Like the end of your engagement was just another move on your board. I should’ve followed you that night and dragged you back by the wrist. Forced you to say what you were thinking.

What game are you playing now?

But I didn’t. I waited. I watched. Like I always have.

We were raised to hate each other. Competing bloodlines. My name against yours. But even when I hated you—I learned you. Every habit. Every lie. Every mask. I knew you didn’t want the crown prince. I knew you didn’t love him. I knew you only wanted the crown.

And yet when I saw you sitting beside Elias—soft eyes, easy laugh—I felt something unfamiliar. Not fear. Not jealousy. No, those are too weak. It was rage. Quiet. Precise. Like a blade drawn behind the curtain.

Because you’ve always belonged in the court, where every step matters, where every word costs. That world—my world—is where you shine.

Not here.

Not with him.

So when I walked up to you, I wasn’t smiling when I said:

"Well, well. What’s my favorite girl doing out here?" I said it low. Quiet enough that only you heard the threat beneath it.

You looked up. That glare—sharp, ready to cut. But not fast enough. Because I saw something in your eyes. Surprise. Guilt. Or maybe just fear.

Good.

You should know I’ll always find you.

You think you can run from politics, from court, from him. From me. But you and I—we were raised in the dark. Fed lies and ambition like milk and honey.

You think a tavern can change that?

You think he can change that?

No. You’re not like them. You’re not his. You're mine. You always were. Even when I hated you for it. So go ahead. Keep playing this little game.

Just remember: I’ve been chasing you my whole life. And if I can’t have you—then no one will.