In the Shadow of the Crown

The tension lingered long after Raen had disappeared into the night.

Eliza stood motionless, her back still pressed against the cold stone wall, the ghost of his touch burning beneath her skin. Her breath was uneven, her body caught between lingering desire and the sharp-edged reality of what had just happened.

She curled her fingers, willing them to stop trembling.

[This is madness.]

And yet, when Tristan finally turned to leave, she found herself stepping forward. "Where is he going?"@@novelbin@@

Tristan halted in the doorway, the flickering torchlight casting sharp shadows across his face. "Where he always goes when he needs to remember he is more than just a beast in a gilded cage."

Eliza frowned, crossing her arms. "And where is that?"

Tristan didn’t answer right away. His storm-gray eyes flicked over her - calculating, unreadable. "His estate. And he expects you to follow."

A sharp breath escaped her lips. "He didn’t say that."

Tristan tilted his head slightly, something like amusement curling at the edges of his mouth. "He didn’t have to."

Eliza’s pulse quickened.

Of course Raen would do this.

Not demand. Not command.

But expect.

He had already decided before the kiss, before Tristan’s interruption that she belonged to him. That she would come to him, not because he forced her, but because he knew, deep down, she wouldn’t be able to resist.

[And damn him, he wasn’t entirely wrong.]

Tristan stepped aside, gesturing toward the open door. "You have a choice, you know."

Did she?

Eliza hesitated for only a second before lifting her chin. "No, I don’t."

She walked past him, into the night.

***

The ride to Raen’s estate was a blur of cold wind and tangled thoughts.

The estate itself loomed in the darkness - a fortress of black stone and towering spires, far removed from the lavish finery of the royal court. It was a place built for war, for strategy, for power.

A place that suited him far too well.

Eliza barely had time to dismount before the massive doors groaned open, spilling golden candlelight onto the frozen ground. A servant bowed low, murmuring something she barely registered.

Her focus was on the figure standing at the base of the grand staircase.

Raen.

His black hair was damp, strands clinging to his sharp cheekbones. He had shed his coat, his dark tunic unfastened at the throat, revealing the inked lines of old magic across his collarbone. His golden eyes burned as he watched her step inside.

Eliza forced herself to move forward, to meet his gaze without faltering. "You left without saying a word."

Raen’s lips curved, slow and deliberate. "Would you have preferred me to beg?"

She narrowed her eyes. "Would you?"

He chuckled, a low, dangerous sound. "Never."

The doors slammed shut behind her.

The sound echoed through the vast hall, sealing her fate in a way words never could.

Raen descended the stairs with the unhurried grace of a predator. "You knew you would come here, Eliza. You knew from the moment I touched you back in that lodge."

Her fingers curled into her skirts. "You think you control me."

He reached her, close enough that the warmth of his body chased away the cold from her ride. "No." He lifted a gloved hand, tracing the line of her jaw with the barest touch. "I think you want to be controlled."

Eliza’s breath caught.

She should deny it. Should slap his hand away.

Instead, she tilted her chin higher. "And if I do?"

A flicker of something dark passed through his golden gaze. His fingers trailed down, pressing lightly at the base of her throat where her pulse betrayed her. "Then I will give you what you crave."

Eliza exhaled shakily. "And what is that?"

Raen leaned in, his lips brushing her ear as he whispered, "Ruin."

Her heart pounded as he stepped back, offering his hand. "Come with me, Eliza."

There was no question of where.

No pretense, no veiled words.

This was an invitation into the fire.

And she was already burning.

Her fingers slid into his.

Raen led her through the dim corridors, past flickering candlelight and shadowed tapestries. Every step was deliberate, each turn down a new hallway a silent warning that this was her last chance to run.

But she didn’t.

When they reached his chamber, he pushed the heavy doors open, revealing a room as dark and imposing as the man himself. The hearth burned low, casting golden light over the velvet-draped bed, the high windows revealing nothing but the endless night beyond.

He stepped inside first, unfastening the rest of his tunic as he turned back to face her. "Close the door, Eliza."

A command, but one laced with something dangerous.

A test.

Eliza stepped inside.

And shut the door.

Raen smiled, slow and wicked.

"Good girl."