Chapter 5 #3
A clawed finger of apprehension scrapes its way down my spine.
Mael offers me his hand. “The carriage is waiting.”
His dark eyes lock onto mine, and for a heartbeat, the world narrows to the space between us. There is something intense in his gaze, something too intent, too knowing.
I do not recognize it. A persistent whisper of doubt curls into my ribs, tightening around my lungs.
Mael doesn’t wait for me to offer my hand, he takes it and pulls me ahead, toward the side door. He should move like this is covert and dangerous. But he doesn’t.
No. I shake the thoughts away. I am being foolish. Overthinking. Mael is on my side. He is the only reason I am still here, the only reason I am not already cast away, rotting in Rust Hollow. But as my legs drag after him, the unease does not fade.
I watch his raised chin, every step deliberate, unshaken. A prince who once lingered at the edge, now stepping forward as if the world had always saved him a place at its center.
My eyes land at where his fingers grip around my slack hand, and panic squeezes around my throat. I halt, ripping my hand out of his.
He whirls on me, perfectly groomed brows drawn tight as he watches me take a step back. His eyes flicker to my face, catching the subtle shake of my head—an instinctive motion, as if my body refuses to go along with this plan, even if I haven't spoken a word.
“What?” Mael snaps, but quickly smooths his expression into something softer, more composed. Compassionate. Patient. A look that should feel familiar, but now reads like a mask, practiced and false. “What’s wrong?” he asks again, this time gently.
I hesitate, breath catching, then glance back at Eva’s duenna, who also stopped a respectful distance behind, allowing me enough freedom to speak without fear of being overheard.
“Maybe we should wait until the first challenge ends, and… And talk to Ryker together? Maybe one of the Champions will be more lenient toward the cursed. Ryker could support that Champion, and if they’re chosen as the next Archpriest—”
“Why are you being ungrateful, Raylane?” Mael snaps, his composure thinning fast. “I’m handing you a way out.
A solution. And now you want to stall?” He throws his arms wide, voice rising just enough to betray his impatience.
“You think Ryker will risk everything to love a cursed woman? He will not.”
I stare at him, stunned.
“What?” he scoffs, his tone turning harsh. “You want me to feel sorry for you? For telling the truth?”
I blink, fists tightening at my sides. “You should feel something,” I snap. “We both made a mistake, but I’m the only one cursed to never touch the man I love.”
He leans in, too close, his breath brushing my cheek, his tone low and sharp.
“And what of me, giving up my future for you?” he says.
“You don’t have to love me. You just have to survive.
And this,” he gestures between us, “this is your only chance at that.” His gaze drills into mine, steady and cold.
“You will learn to live with it. Because you don’t have a choice. ”
His insistent tone that leaves no space for argument makes me shrink away. My free hand lifts before I can stop it, fingers grazing the jeweled coils woven into my hair, seeking out the place where the red strand lies hidden beneath gold and deception.
The moment I feel it—coarse, wrong, tainted—a shudder ripples through me.
A mark of something I cannot erase. A brand of what I have become. And yet, as my gaze locks on Mael’s smirk, I see the same thing reflected in him.
The pieces don’t snap together all at once. They gather like storm clouds, shifting and restless.
Ryker—diminished, hollowed out, a shadow of the man he once was.
Mael—standing taller, his shoulders squared with a quiet, steady confidence. And that flicker in his gaze before we stepped away…
Something feels terribly wrong, and I wonder if Ryker really did send Mael to my room to check on me, as his brother said, or if all of this has been a lie. Some part of a greater plan I don’t yet understand.
Something screams in me to run to Ryker.
To speak to him directly. To warn him, of what I’m not sure…
Because if I don’t… if I let this moment pass, I will never get another chance.
This is the only moment I will ever have to throw myself at Ryker’s mercy.
Even if it means unraveling everything. Even if it means I ruin myself.
Even if it means the court sees me for what I am, Ryker has to know—
Something in my expression makes Mael’s shoulders stiffen. “He’ll never accept you.” His voice lowers, cautious now. “Not after this.”
The words dig in deep, and suddenly, everything snaps into focus.
Every moment since we woke up together, every well-placed suggestion, the inevitability of my fate if I don’t marry him. What if it was never a kind gesture, but a plan? A trap, thread by thread. One I had walked into blind.
The way he let Eva speak the words he wouldn’t say himself, most likely planting the idea in her head where it would take root earlier. He had called her to my rooms under the pretense of worrying about my rash decisions, he set the stage, knowing exactly how it would unfold.
Marriage. Not for love, not for penance for our mutual mistake, but a carefully curated plan to get my family’s name, my wealth, my power. But more importantly, to break his brother’s heart.
The idea seems wildly cruel, even for Mael, and yet it makes perfect sense. A bold first step, to finally walk out of Ryker’s shadow during a moment of turmoil at the court, when so much hovers in the balance.
I meet his narrowed gaze.
“I’ll never know unless I try,” I say, and turn on my heel.