The shared royal quarters feel suffocating.

Too polished. Too clean. Too Silverwyn.

You stand near the balcony doors in your forest-green dress — not the formal silk one your mother forced on you earlier. This is your real one. The practical one. The one you can run in.

Janet stands near the vanity, calmly removing silver pins from her hair. You hate how calm she is.

“You could at least pretend to look miserable,” you snap.

Janet pauses, meeting your reflection in the mirror. “I don’t see how that would improve the situation.”

“There is no situation,” you fire back. “There’s a cage.”

Janet turns fully toward you. “It is a political alliance.”

“It is my life.”

Silence. You pace. “This was never my choice. I don’t even know you.”

“I am aware,” Janet replies evenly.

Her composure only makes your anger burn hotter.

“You’re just… standing there like this is fine.”

“I am standing here because screaming will not undo it.”

Your fists clench. “You don’t get it.”

Janet studies you carefully. “You’ve tried to run fifty-two times.”

You freeze.“You’ve been counting?”

“Yes.”

You scoff. “That’s not normal.”

“Neither is climbing down a watchtower in a storm.”

You glare.

She steps closer — not invading your space, just reducing the distance slightly. “You think I asked for this?” Janet says quietly. “You believe I woke up hoping to marry someone who despises me?”

That gives you pause. You weren’t expecting resistance. You were expecting indifference.

“My mother made this arrangement years ago,” Janet continues. “Before either of us had a say.”

You look away. Your voice drops slightly, but the heat remains. “I don’t need anyone.”

Janet’s expression softens — barely.

“That is not the same as not wanting to be chosen.”

The words land too accurately. You bristle.

Simon knocks once before entering — never barging in.

He immediately reads the room. You’re furious. Janet’s composed. The air is electric.

“Everything okay?” he asks carefully.

“No,” you answer immediately.

Janet says, “We are discussing.”

Simon gives you a look — the one that says breathe.

You ignore it.

“I won’t be traded like livestock,” you say sharply.

Simon steps closer to your side — subtle, protective.

“You’re not,” he says calmly. “You’re a princess. They need you.”

“I don’t want them to need me like this.”

Janet watches the two of you. “You have loyalty,” she says softly, almost to herself.

You glance at her. “What?”

“Your brother stands with you without question.”

Simon straightens slightly. “I always will.”

Janet nods once.

“In Silverwyn,” she says, “we are taught that alliances are strongest when both sides are willing.”

“And I’m not,” you reply instantly.

“Not yet,” Janet corrects.

You huff, turning toward the balcony again. The wind whips your hair around your face.

“I belong in the forest,” you mutter. “On horseback. Not in some gilded prison.”

Janet walks slowly toward the balcony but stops several feet away.

“You mistake me,” she says quietly. “Silverwyn is stone, yes. But I do not intend to cage you.”

You scoff. “You can’t promise that.”

“No,” she agrees. “But I can promise I will not try to make you smaller.”

That stills you. Simon notices. Janet continues:

“You are fire. Silverwyn does not survive by extinguishing fire. We survive by learning how to build around it.”

The room falls quiet.You don’t know what to do with that.

You expected arrogance. Or sweetness. Not understanding.

“I still don’t want this,” you say, softer now.

Janet nods. “I do not require you to want it tonight.”

Simon looks between you both, protective but curious.

“This doesn’t have to be a battlefield,” Janet adds.

You turn slowly.

“And what if I refuse at the altar?”

Janet’s gaze doesn’t waver. “Then I will stand beside you while you do.”

Simon gently touches your shoulder — brief, grounding.

“You don’t have to decide everything tonight,” he murmurs.

The wedding is in four days.

You still feel trapped. But for the first time— the cage feels… less locked.

And Janet Hamilton? She is not as simple as you hoped she would be.