5. 4 #2
She stumbled, catching herself on the edge of the table, one hand flying to her jaw. Her breath came in shallow bursts, chest rising and falling like a trapped bird.
“Y-yes, my king,” she whispered, voice trembling.
“Good,” he said, already turning away. “We will return once you’ve secured your place by his side. I expect a wedding.”
Her mother only offered a glance before she slipped out with Cavric.
And then they were gone.
The silence that followed was deafening.
And the necklace—cold against her skin—pulsed like a warning.
Mabel stood frozen, tears slipping down her cheeks, her entire body shivering. She couldn’t believe their cruelty, and yet … she could. They meant every word. They always had. She wasn’t a daughter to them. She was a deal. A strategy.
All she had ever wanted was to be seen. To be loved. Instead, she was punished for wanting anything at all.
She wiped her face with trembling fingers. You have to be good for Theodore, she reminded herself. You’ve been trained for it. And yet, her chest tightened. Why can’t they see how hard I’m trying?
Mabel sank onto the bench, the wood cold beneath her. Her hands covered her face, but they couldn’t muffle the sobs that broke from her chest—raw, uneven, impossible to hide. She tried to silence them, tried to swallow the sound, but grief had no interest in discretion.
The footsteps nearing her made her freeze. She looked up.
Lance stood, arms tucked behind his back, gaze unreadable with practiced indifference. He studied her with a calm too calculated to be kind.
“Can I help you?” she asked, quickly wiping away her tears.
He huffed a soft laugh. “I could ask the same of you, Miss Ravenov.”
She narrowed her gaze. “If you’re here to mock me—”
“I’m not,” he said, stepping closer. “I came for this.” He leaned in slowly. His breath brushed her cheek.
She flinched, color rising, but he reached past her and plucked the half-empty bottle of wine from behind her seat. Straightened. Held it up as though it had been obvious.
“What, you already drained the first one?” she scoffed.
“I don’t drink,” he said, smirking. “It’s for them.” He nodded toward the archway.
Two women lounged there, draped in sheer fabrics, flushed and languid. One blonde, one brunette. Both were watching Mabel with feline interest.
“You look like you have some things to forget,” he purred, then leaned down, eyes level with hers. “Let me help with that.” The smile on his lips was wicked.
The blonde tilted her head, lips curling. “Come on, darling. Have some fun.”
“We don’t bite,” the brunette added, “unless asked.”
Mabel inhaled, sharp and steady. The laugh that followed was dry, brittle.
“You’ve got some nerve,” she said, her gaze moving past Lance to the women. “Calling me a whore as if your debauchery isn’t parading itself in the hallway. I am a princess. I will not take part in such a spectacle.”
“Don’t be so proud,” Lance scoffed. “As if your precious Theodore doesn’t seek out the same indulgences.”
“Excuse me?” she snapped.
“Don’t be naive.” He rolled his eyes, amusement curling in his voice. “You expect a man like that to remain faithful?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” her voice faltered.
“I’m afraid you’ll have to ask him that. I don’t keep track of every whore my brother brings home—or visits.” He turned on his heel.
“You’re lying,” she said, rising to her feet.
He paused mid-stride, glancing back. “I don’t lie, Miss Ravenov. That’s more Theo’s specialty.”
Mabel scoffed. “It’s actually quite pathetic. You’re so obviously jealous of him,” she said coldly.
“Piss off,” he muttered, disappearing with the women.
She watched him go, jaw tight. He was trying to get under her skin. She knew that.
Still, the words lingered.
Would Theodore betray her? He seemed so genuine. So kind. Until dinner—until that flash of rage toward Lance. But that was just a brother’s quarrel. Wasn’t it?
She pushed the thought aside and left the hall, spine straight, heart unsteady.
Her steps were slow, carrying her through the quiet corridors until the familiar door to her room came into view. There, Theodore waited, leaned casually against the frame, hands tucked behind his back like he’d been rehearsing patience.
At the sight of her, his posture shifted. The smile that bloomed on his face was real, warm, but it dimmed almost instantly as she neared. Her features were strained, her expression stripped bare.
He stepped forward, voice hushed with care. “Are you alright?”
Mabel paused just shy of his touch, her eyes lingering on him, reading every inch of his face. Her father’s words rang in her ears.
“I’m fine,” she insisted, her voice small. “I’ll just … miss my parents is all.”
Her eyes dropped to the floor, shoulders hunched slightly inward, the lie brittle.
Theodore studied her in silence, his gaze soft and steady. Then he stepped forward, his hands hovering near her waist like a question. Mabel answered by leaning in, her body folding into the comfort he offered, letting herself be wrapped in his arms.
He held her close, the tension in her shoulders easing beneath the weight of his warmth. In his embrace, the world stilled just enough for her breath to come easier.
“The good news,” he cooed against her hair, “is they’re gone.”
She tensed in his arms. Had he seen through her that easily?
He paused, then tilted her chin with the gentlest touch, coaxing her to meet his gaze. “And you,” he said with a smile that dared to promise something golden, “are going to have the best Yule of your life.”
The smile snuck onto her lips before she could stop it, coaxed effortlessly by Theodore’s charm. “Promise?” she whispered, the word barely reaching the air between them.
“I promise,” he said, grinning as he leaned in and kissed her, soft and fleeting, but enough to leave her heart drumming wildly in her chest.
When he pulled back, something appeared between them. A white rose, crisp and delicate, held gently in his fingers. Mabel gasped, delight blooming across her face. “Where did this come from?”
He handed it over, her fingers brushing his as she took the stem with reverence.
“My mother’s obsessed with roses,” he said, voice honeyed. “She cultivates dozens. She won’t miss one.”
Mabel narrowed her eyes playfully. “You stole this?”
“Stole?” Theodore feigned scandal, stepping closer until their foreheads nearly touched. “Borrowed, permanently. Don’t tell anyone—they take fingers for less.”
Mabel giggled softly before the moment shifted, sweetness folding into something quieter. Their eyes met, and all the noise of the day seemed to hush around them.
Theodore leaned in, his touch gentle as he pressed a final kiss to her lips. It wasn’t rushed, nor lingering, just a delicate goodbye tucked into the space between them.
“I came to say goodnight,” he said, voice threaded with warmth.
“Then say it,” she whispered, breath tickling the petals of the rose as she absently twirled it in her fingers.
He hesitated, his gaze tracing the curve of her jaw, the slope of her shoulders, as if trying to memorize her entirely. “Goodnight, Princess,” he said quietly, reluctant to let the words leave his mouth.
“Goodnight, my prince,” she replied, a playful purr laced beneath the tenderness.
The silence hung for a beat longer; the weight of his gaze still wrapped around her. Then, with one final smile, Theodore turned and slipped into the hallway.
Mabel lingered in the quiet, the warmth of Theodore’s presence still clinging to her skin. Then, with a soft exhale, she pushed open the heavy wooden door to her chambers.
Inside, the only sound was the soft, steady snore of Ada, curled atop the covers in her dress, clearly having fallen asleep waiting.
Mabel crossed the room with care, placing the white rose in a nearby glass of water Ada no doubt left out for her. She paused to inhale its scent one last time—crisp, grounding—before beginning the slow process of undressing.
Her fingers worked at the fastenings, clumsy but determined. It was a labor, one she welcomed. She needed the stillness to think through everything. Theodore’s touch, his laughter, the effortless way he made space for her.
She had spent years worrying about what this moment would be—how it should feel, what it would cost. And yet, it had unfolded like breathing. Like something easy. Enchanting.
Her fingers found the latch of the gold chain, gently unclasping it. She eyed the gem with a pointed stare, brow furrowing as she set it down on her vanity.
Why can’t they see that? How much I’ve given to the performance? My grace, my restraint. Even when her cheeks betrayed her, even when Theodore’s smile made her stumble, she had him captivated. And still, her parents refused to see it.