In the Shadow of the Crown

The weight of the silver cuffs around Eliza’s wrists was nothing compared to the weight of Raen’s gaze. He watched her as a hunter watches a captured creature - patient, indulgent, knowing she had nowhere to run. The candlelight cast flickering shadows across the room, stretching his silhouette along the walls, making him seem larger, more inescapable.

Her breath came shallowly, her mind wading through the haze that still clung to her senses. The wine. She had barely touched it, and yet it lingered in her blood, making her limbs feel too warm, too languid. She had underestimated him. Again.

Raen sat on the edge of his chair, rolling a small, polished key between his fingers. It gleamed in the dim light. The key to the cuffs.

[But not the collar.]                                                             

The slim band of enchanted silver still rested against her throat, cool against the heat of her skin, an ever-present reminder of her imprisonment. And worse - there was something new. Something waiting for her in the velvet-lined box resting on the table beside him.

Raen exhaled slowly, almost lazily, before he stood. “Eliza,” he murmured, stepping toward her. “How much longer will you make this difficult for yourself?”

She stiffened as he reached for her. His fingers trailed lightly over the collar, tracing the delicate etchings in the metal. There was no lock, no clasp. No way to remove it without his will.

He leaned in, his breath warm against her ear. “You’re mine.”

Eliza swallowed hard, forcing herself to meet his gaze. “I will never be yours.”

Raen laughed softly, shaking his head. “You say that, yet your body betrays you.” His fingers brushed over her pulse point, lingering. “I feel it. The way your heart races when I touch you.”

She clenched her teeth, willing herself not to react. She would not give him the satisfaction.

Raen studied her for a moment, then tilted his head. “Shall I prove you wrong?”

Before she could step back, he reached for the ornate box on the table, flipping open the lid.

Eliza’s stomach tightened.

Inside, resting on deep crimson velvet, was something far worse than she had imagined.

It was not a simple collar.

It was a choker of fine, interwoven silver, delicate in its craftsmanship - elegant, beautiful. A piece befitting a queen. But the beauty was a deception. The metal pulsed faintly with magic, an enchantment thrumming beneath its surface.

“This,” Raen murmured, lifting the choker with deliberate care, “will suit you far better than those crude chains.”

Eliza forced herself to keep her expression unreadable. “Another collar?” she said mockingly, tilting her chin. “I would think one would be enough.”

Raen smirked. “You misunderstand. This isn’t simply to mark you as mine.” He stepped closer, letting the choker dangle from his fingers. “It ensures obedience.”

Her breath caught.

“I already wear your damned chains,” she spat. “What more could you take?”

Raen’s smirk deepened. “Oh, my love.” He lifted the choker and, with careful precision, fastened it around her neck.

The moment the clasp clicked into place, a wave of warmth pulsed through her.

Eliza’s knees nearly buckled.

She gasped, clutching at the silver band, but there was no seam, no clasp - only smooth, unyielding metal. The magic settled against her skin like a whisper, coiling through her veins.

“What… what did you do?” she choked out.

Raen caught her chin between his fingers, tilting her face up to his. “It binds us,” he said simply. “Should you try to run, this will call you back to me.”

Horror twisted in her stomach.

“You can’t.” Her voice trembled. “You wouldn’t.”

“I already have.” His thumb brushed her lower lip, his gaze darkening. “No more games, Eliza. No more pretending.”

She slapped his hand away, fire flashing in her eyes. “You will never break me.”

Raen chuckled, unconcerned. “We shall see.”

***

Elsewhere in the Castle…

Lord Elrik stood near the great stone hearth, arms crossed as he listened to the distant hum of the castle beyond these walls.

Raen’s absence was unsettling.

He had always known the duke to be ruthless, but there was something different about him now. Something unshakable.

“You think this will work?” Elrik muttered, glancing toward the man seated at the desk.

General Vaughn, a man of few words, only smirked. “It already has.”

Elrik clenched his jaw. “He’s blinded by her.”

Vaughn chuckled, rolling a dagger between his fingers. “And yet, she is still in his grasp.”

Elrik turned back toward the fire, his mind racing.

He had known Raen for years. Fought beside him. Bled beside him.

And yet, for the first time, he wasn’t sure if he could trust him.

If Eliza was truly his weakness, then there was a chance, however small that she could be used against him.

And in the dangerous game of war and power, even the smallest weakness could mean destruction.

***

Back in Raen’s Chambers…

Eliza sat on the edge of the massive bed, the weight of her restraints pressing down on her. The cuffs, the collar, the choker - each one a new layer of control.

Her mind raced, searching for an opening, a weakness, anything.

She had played the game well tonight, but she had lost.

And now, Raen had tipped the balance even further in his favor.

She gritted her teeth, her fingers tightening into fists.

[This is not over.]

Raen sat beside her, watching her with lazy satisfaction, as if he could already hear her thoughts. He lifted a strand of her hair, twirling it between his fingers.

“You’re thinking of escape,” he murmured.

Eliza didn’t respond.

He leaned in, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to the side of her throat. “Good,” he whispered against her skin. “I prefer it when you struggle.”

Her stomach twisted with something dangerous.

Not fear.@@novelbin@@

Something far worse.

Because the more he tightened his grip, the more she wanted to find a way to make him break instead.

She exhaled shakily, lifting her chin, meeting his gaze with defiance.

“Enjoy your victory while it lasts, Raen,” she murmured.

His smirk was wicked. “Oh, I intend to.”

And as he leaned in once more, claiming her lips with a possessive, searing kiss. Eliza swore, deep within herself.

[He may have won tonight.]

[But this war was far from over.]