Chapter 22 #2
For a moment, he didn’t move. Then slowly, reluctantly, he turned. When his gaze met mine, I saw it clearly—the distance he had forced between himself and everything else, the careful detachment that allowed him to endure this surreal place without breaking.
But beneath that, I was certain that the man I had come to love had not vanished entirely.
His brow furrowed faintly, confusion threading through the weariness tightening his expression, as though my presence here unraveled something he had worked very hard to hold together.
Pain tightened his expression. “You shouldn’t have come,” he said again, quieter this time.
“There’s nothing left for you here…you know, better than I, that I have to stay here, to anchor the curse.
You’re the only hope for my people, for finding a way to wake them before the land fades entirely and the curse wins.
” His gaze flickered past me towards the fading horizon.
“There are other kingdoms not trapped by a curse, other lives waiting for you beyond this one. If you can’t wake my people—you can still have a life after this. ”
I shook my head before he could finish. “You know me far too well to believe I would ever do that. You gave me the chance to wake up, now I’ll do the same for you.”
Something in his expression shifted, fragile and uncertain, as though he did not quite know how to bear the weight of my resolve.
I took another step closer, closing the final distance between us. “I’m not leaving you behind. Not when you’re still here.”
His gaze searched mine, as though looking for doubt or hesitation, anything he could use to send me away.
“How can I leave you?” I whispered, the words catching despite my effort to steady them. “Not when you—” My voice faltered with all I still couldn’t confess.
Not when you mean everything to me. Not when you chose me. Not when I would choose you, again and again.
I swallowed, forcing myself to continue. “Not only because of what you mean to me…but because everything that’s happened—” The truth pressed hard against my chest, sharp and unavoidable. “I’m the one who caused the curse.”
“You’re not to blame for the curse,” he said solemnly. “I am.”
I stared at him, certain he was only trying to ease the burden of my confession “You’re not to blame for my curiosity getting the better of me, especially after you warned me.”
For a fleeting moment, something almost like a smile touched his lips. “I’m glad you remember our time together.” But it vanished as quickly as it had come, his expression sobering. He shook his head. “No, I know I’m to blame…because I was the only one who remained awake after it was cast.”
I frowned, confusion threading through me. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“It has everything to do with it,” he replied. He turned slightly, his gaze drifting past me, as though looking back through time itself.
“When the curse was first cast, I didn’t understand it.
I had only heard fragments—legends surrounding the crown, half-forgotten warnings passed down through generations.
I had no way of knowing what it was capable of.
” His voice grew quieter. “I don’t even know how long it’s been since the kingdom drifted into slumber; time hasn’t moved as it should, blurring and stretching. ”
“I’ve had nothing but time to study it. In an effort to understand it.
” His gaze returned to mine, sharper now.
“The crown was never meant to destroy the kingdom. It was meant to determine the true heir, to test whether the one who would rule was worthy of the throne…or whether they would fail beneath its weight.” A faint, humorless breath escaped him.
I frowned. “Wait, that’s not what I saw.” I told him of my visions, my understanding of the past, and my own release of the curse.
But Evander only smiled sadly. “You didn’t see everything.
The curse was created by a wizard who wanted his protégé to take the throne instead of my ancestor.
He prophesied that there was weakness in my line—that someday the crown would find an unworthy ruler and disaster would ensue.
” He drew a shaky breath. “Growing up, I was afraid to touch the crown in fear of what it might show, afraid it would confirm what I had always suspected—that I was never meant to wear it.” His expression darkened.
“And it did. How else would the curse have been cast if not for my inadequacy?”
Silence stretched between us, heavy with the weight of his revelation. “A rather drastic safeguard,” I finally murmured.
He gave a slight shrug, though there was no real indifference in it. “It’s ancient magic—older than the kingdom as we know it. It was forged when rival clans vied for the throne, when power was taken rather than earned. For them…this was a solution. For me…a condemnation.”
Unease stirred beneath the surface of his explanation.
“That still doesn’t make sense,” I said slowly.
“If the crown’s purpose was to test the heir, then why leave you awake at all?
Why not let the kingdom sleep without you rather than leave you here to endure it alone, unless…
” My breath caught slightly as the thought formed.
“…unless it wasn’t only a punishment, but a chance to prove yourself worthy. ”
For a moment, he said nothing, his brow furrowed faintly. “How am I supposed to do that, trapped here?”
I stepped closer, my voice gaining quiet conviction.
“In the library I witnessed you searching for a way to undo the curse in an effort to save your people, your show of consideration to your slumbering subjects within the castle I have no doubt extended beyond the palace walls.” My gaze held his.
“That isn’t the act of someone unworthy: that’s the act of a true crown prince. ”
Longing flickered in his gaze, as if he yearned to believe me. I continued, praying my words would reach him and penetrate the doubt engulfing his heart.
“You’re so confident and composed, and who carries yourself like someone who was meant to lead.”
He let out a quiet, humorless snort, shaking his head. “Confidence,” he said, “is a carefully practiced illusion, a skill I honed as a royal like everything else.”
His gaze lowered. “Charm is easier to fake, a mask that keeps my subjects from looking too closely at what’s underneath the facade.”
“And what is underneath?” I asked gently.
His jaw tightened. “A man who was never certain he was enough,” he said. “Not for the crown or for the kingdom.”
The weight of his words settling heavily between us.
Pain wrenched my heart—sharp and unfamiliar in its depth, for it was not my own that I felt, but his.
I had always feared what it might mean to care for someone this deeply, what it might cost me to let those emotions take root.
But now that the moment had come, there was no hesitation in me at all. I only wanted to take his pain away.
I searched his expression, my heart wrenching at the pain etched into his haggard features. “This isn’t the Evander I know,” I murmured.
He let out a hollow laugh, the sound brittle against the stillness of the fading world. “The Evander you’ve known…isn’t real, but merely an illusion, a pathetic man who has been pretending since the moment he met you.”
My chest tightened. “Pretending?” I echoed softly.
He let out a slow breath, as though bracing himself.
“You appeared out of nowhere—beautiful, confident fearless, entirely certain of who you were. A thief who moved through the world with purpose, who took what she wanted without apology, who had earned every skill she possessed. And I…” A faint, humorless smile touched his lips. “I was none of those things.”
“You admired me?” I asked quietly.
“I envied you,” he corrected. “You were everything I wasn’t.
You knew your place in the world and carved it out for yourself, whereas I had only ever been given mine, yet never felt worthy of it.
” His gaze lifted again, meeting mine with quiet intensity.
“And yet, I couldn’t look away. You stirred life in me where none had existed before. ”
Something in my heart softened. A memory stirred from where it had been locked away to protect me from the pain of their loss—faint at first, then gradually growing clearer as the memory unfolded.
I balanced carefully on his window ledge, staring wide-eyed at the handsome prince who had unexpectedly retired early from his state dinner…
only to catch me. He stood in the shadows, watching me—not with suspicion, but with a quiet, searching curiosity.
Flickering torchlight brushed across his features, revealing not accusation or command, but unmistakable amusement at finding a thief infiltrating his royal chambers.
I fought to maintain my composure. “Are you going to call for the guards?” I asked.
A faint crease formed between his brows as he cast an apprehensive glance towards the door, where they stood just beyond. When his gaze returned to mine, a charming grin had already taken hold.
“It would be a shame to lock away someone brave enough to steal from royalty.” There was no reprimand in his tone—only admiration, and perhaps the faintest hint of envy.
He strolled towards me with easy confidence, his attention drifting to the jeweled paperweight I’d procured from his desk before he caught me red-handed. I relinquished it without a fight—my power having already searched it and found nothing of interest.
One brow lifted in silent question. I shrugged. “There are far more interesting items to steal.”
He studied me for a long moment, as though uncertain what to make of me. Then slowly, a smirk tugged on his mouth. “That sounds like a challenge I’m willing to accept.”
What began as a game did not remain one for long.