In the Shadow of the Crown

Eliza had spent her life mastering control - of her emotions, of her thoughts, of the way she moved through the treacherous web of courtly life. But as she sat across from Raen in the dim candlelight of his private chambers, she felt that control slipping, unraveling thread by thread.

The food before her was exquisite - fresh fruit, warm bread, slices of cured meat but it was the wine that captured her attention. A deep crimson, almost too rich, too inviting. She had barely touched it, and yet… warmth curled low in her stomach, her breath slowing, her body humming with something unfamiliar.

Raen leaned back in his chair, watching her with that maddening smirk, his fingers drumming lightly against the polished wood. He looked at ease, like a man who had already won.

“You’re quiet tonight,” he murmured, tilting his goblet slightly, letting the candlelight catch the wine. “That’s unlike you.”

Eliza forced herself to smile, feigning nonchalance as she lifted her glass to her lips. “Perhaps I’ve simply accepted my fate.”

Raen’s expression darkened, though amusement still lingered at the edges. “Have you?”

She let her gaze drop, feigning shyness, letting the illusion build. She knew what he wanted, how his hunger for control burned just beneath the surface. And if she played the game well enough, she could use it against him.

She shifted subtly in her seat, the silk of her gown slipping against her skin. “I was thinking…” she began softly, tracing the rim of her goblet with a delicate finger, “about last night. About you.”

Raen stilled, his grip on his glass tightening ever so slightly.

Eliza leaned forward just enough to let her voice dip into something almost conspiratorial. “I’ve been fighting you for so long,” she murmured, tilting her head to let her hair spill over one shoulder. “Maybe I was wrong.”@@novelbin@@

His eyes darkened, a slow, simmering heat building in them. “Wrong about what?”

She let her lips part just slightly, as if hesitating, then whispered, “About you.”

[It was a lie. But Raen had always been good at drawing out the truth he wanted to hear.]

He was still watching her, calculating, searching for deception. But Eliza knew men like him - proud, possessive, convinced that in the end, she would break for him.

So she let herself sway just a little as she stood, stepping closer, letting the silk of her nightgown whisper against her skin. Every movement was deliberate, every glance designed to provoke.

Raen remained seated, but his body was rigid, tense, as though a single word could shatter his control.

Her fingers trailed along the edge of the table as she moved behind him. “I think I understand now,” she murmured, leaning down, letting her breath tickle his ear.

Raen exhaled sharply, but he did not move.

She pressed further. “You’re not cruel because you hate me.” She let her hand rest lightly on his shoulder, tracing the seam of his coat. “You’re cruel because you want me.”

The air between them tightened like a drawn bowstring.

She was close enough now to see the pulse in his throat, the slight clench of his jaw. If she was going to find the key, if it was hidden somewhere in his possession - this was her chance.

Carefully, she let her fingers drift lower, sliding against the leather of his belt, feigning curiosity. “Do you ever wonder…” she whispered, “what would happen if I stopped fighting you?”

Raen’s hand shot up, gripping her wrist with a force that sent a thrill through her.

“Eliza.” His voice was dangerously low, edged with something raw. “Don’t test me.”

She met his gaze, challenging, knowing she was walking a fine line. “Or what?”

His grip tightened, and in one swift motion, he pulled her onto his lap.

Eliza gasped, her body suddenly pressed against the unyielding strength of his. His arm curled around her waist, pinning her to him, his other hand gripping her chin, forcing her to look at him.

His breath was warm against her lips, his expression a wicked mixture of hunger and control. “You have no idea,” he murmured, “how long I’ve waited for you to say that.”

[Heat pooled low in her stomach. Was it the wine? The way he was looking at her?]

She had meant to distract him, to find the key, but now. Gods, now she could barely think.

Raen’s thumb brushed over her bottom lip, his voice like silk. “Why aren’t you wearing them?”

For a moment, her mind was too hazy to understand. “What?”

“The cuffs, Eliza.” His lips barely ghosted over her jawline, sending a shiver down her spine. “I left them for you. And yet…” His fingers trailed down her arm, grazing her bare wrist. “You disobeyed me.”

She swallowed hard. “I’m not your pet, Raen.”

His laughter was soft, dark. “No,” he agreed, “not yet.”

And then, before she could react, there was a cold click around her wrist.

Eliza jerked, looking down, only to see the silver cuffs now locked securely around her hands, bound together with an elegant chain.

She gasped, twisting, but Raen’s grip was firm. “You...”

“I gave you a choice,” he murmured against her ear, his voice a slow, deliberate threat. “You didn’t take it.”

Eliza’s breath hitched as he tilted her chin up, forcing her gaze to his.

“You said you wanted to stop fighting.” His fingers traced the delicate column of her throat. “Shall we put that to the test?”

Her body betrayed her, warmth curling deep inside her, the effect of whatever had been in that wine making her limbs weak, her pulse erratic.

Raen’s smirk was slow, knowing. “It’s working, isn’t it?”

Her lips parted, her body trembling as she tried to summon the words to deny it.

But she couldn’t.

Because the truth was, she had never wanted him more.

***

Elsewhere in the castle…

The grand study was dimly lit, the scent of parchment and ink thick in the air. Lord Elrik stood near the hearth, his arms crossed as he studied the map laid out before him.

“The king will not fall easily,” he murmured. “His spies are everywhere.”

Raen, now stripped of his usual armor, regarded the map with a cold, calculating gaze. “Then we make sure he never sees it coming.”

Elrik hesitated. “And Eliza?”

Raen’s expression remained unreadable, but there was something almost possessive in the way his fingers traced the edge of the table.

“She will stay exactly where she belongs.”

In his grasp.

In his world.

And soon…

Completely his.

***

Later that evening…

The palace’s head steward stood before Raen, bowing slightly. “My lord, as requested, everything is prepared.”

Raen nodded, his gaze flickering to the large, ornate box now resting against the chamber wall. The new device - his latest means of ensuring Eliza’s compliance.

It was a collar of sorts, laced with delicate enchantments, forged from a rare silver that pulsed with faint magic. Unlike the cuffs, it did not restrict movement - only choice.

Once locked, it could not be removed unless he willed it. And if she tried to run? A simple command would bring her to her knees.

Perfect.

His lips curved as he reached for the clasp.

Eliza would learn.

One way or another.