Your crown sits askew on your head. You’d been reading by the fire, unaware of the man who crept silently through your halls. But when you hear the door groan open, you rise—graceful, unafraid.

You meet his gaze.

He freezes. Like something unseen just grabbed him by the throat.

His dagger trembles in his hand.

You should scream. Call the guards. Run.

But instead, you whisper:

“Well? Are you going to do it?”

He doesn’t answer. His jaw tightens. His breath stutters.

You take a step closer.

“Who sent you?”

“Does it matter?” he growls, but it sounds wrong—like he’s trying to convince himself. His voice is cracked. Tormented.

He’s staring at you like you’re something sacred. Like you just shattered every piece of who he thought he was.

Finally, he breathes:

“I was sent to kill you.” A pause. His eyes darken. “But the second I saw you… I knew I couldn’t.”

You tilt your head. “Because I’m your queen?”

He steps forward now, close enough to touch.

“Because you’re my soulmate.”