Page 14 of Revert
He hesitated before offering a surprising continuation. “I also don’t fault you for anything spoken while uncomfortable; I know you would prefer not to be alone with me.”
I stiffened. Though his observation was entirely accurate, the fact that he’d noticed meant I’d failed to maintain the charade of a dutiful fiancée, allowing my fear to dictate my movements like a traitorous puppeteer tugging at strings I thought I’d concealed.
“That’s not true.” But my voice cracked, betraying my lie.
He arched a brow. “Forgive me, I must have mistaken your peculiar behavior of late forfear. I welcome the correction.”
His look held a challenge, but behind it lay something more. Not cruelty, or even mockery, but the glint of an emotion I had never seen in him before, something dangerously close to…amusement.
Its unnatural presence unsettled me more than any of his threats ever had, because amusement from someone like him could never be harmless. Even when he was toying with me ashe so often did, it was part of a game I would give anything to no longer be forced to play.
“You’re mistaking fear for respect and the awe I feel in your presence.” I nearly gagged on the words, barely managing to force them past the revulsion scorching my tongue.
He snorted—an unrestrained, derisive sound. “Please never say such a thing to me again. I get enough of that nonsense from the court. I am not a god, just a man. You needn’t put me on a pedestal with your words—I know you don’t truly feel that way.”
His protest surprised me. The king had always reveled in flattery, and Prince Castiel had never objected to the lavish treatment; I had assumed he thrived on it as well. “That is the system of Thorndale I have grown accustomed to,” I said once I’d recaptured my voice. My mind raced, trying to guess whether this was another trap—this one verbal—that could close about me if I let down my guard and allowed the prince see what I actually thought of the royal family.
He frowned, as if something about my answer unsettled him. “You’re not wrong…but while it would be unwise to behave otherwise in the king’s presence, I hope that when we’re alone, you might treat me less like the crown prince and more likeCastiel.”
He was asking the impossible. For as long as I had been in Thorndale, I hadn’t known therewasa man behind the title. If one existed beneath the layers of court masks and military command, he was buried too deep for me to find. How could I ever see him asCastielwhen every time I looked at him, all I saw was my killer? Besides, we were never truly alone, not in a palace where shadows had eyes, and even silence served the king.
I had no response to this unexpected deviation in our conversation, but fortunately he didn’t seem to be expecting one. The prince said nothing more for the remainder of our walk, his pace steady and deliberate, as if we were headed on somemundane errand rather than en route to what I was still half-convinced might be my execution.
But his silence carried weight, as did the path he led me down, away from the gilded heart of the palace, deeper into the buried stones of its past.
The farther we walked, the more the court’s grandeur faded behind us. These were not the corridors used by nobles or guests—these narrow halls were older and half-forgotten, their plaster cracked, the high windows so thin they filtered in only the faintest slivers of light.
Eventually, we reached a heavy oak door, its darkened wood scarred by time and secured with iron. “What is this place?” I asked, careful not to let my unease slip too far into my voice.
He didn’t answer as he unlocked it and pushed it open. I braced myself for chains—the cold stone of a dungeon, an oubliette, or perhaps a one-way stop at the chopping block from which I would never return—yet the room beyond was not a place of execution, but a tomb of memory.
Our accompanying guards took their places outside the door as we stepped inside. Dust coated every surface. Long windows layered in grime filtered in faint grey light, casting the space in shadow. Rows of sagging shelves lined the walls like silent sentinels, burdened beneath forgotten lore, court annals, and neglected grimoires that hadn’t seen the light in decades. A single table stood in the center, illuminated by a narrow shaft of light, the dust motes swirling around it like disturbed secrets.
This room, I realized, was Thorndale’s history—neglected, misremembered, and filled with truths no one dared speak aloud. The mystery of the crown prince’s intentions in bringing me to such a strange place clung to the air like the dust-laden cobwebs veiling the shelves.
“This is an unexpected surprise,” I said stiffly. “Just the location I imagined for a romantic outing with my intended. What’s the occasion?”
Rather than the reprimand I expected, he merely sighed. “After last night, I have taken upon myself the duty of keeping a closer eye on you.”
A strange change, considering the endless parade of minions he had at his disposal to do his bidding. The fact that he’d taken a personal interest in my surveillance didn’t bode well for me, or for my mission that relied on having moments of freedom from the royal gaze.
I shot him a glare. He didn’t even flinch—his mouth merely twitched, as if tempted to curve upwards before thinking better of it, leaving me completely disarmed.
That only riled me further. The biting retort I’d barely managed to contain burst free, sharp and cold. “Of all locations to bring your betrothed, you decided the best place to observe me was a room crowded with shelves, with nowhere to run? Charming. Should I be flattered…or worried?” The setting did feel fitting for a relationship built on buried truths and woven through with lies.
“This room serves a dual purpose. Your love of books and insatiable curiosity makes it the natural choice.” His expression gave nothing away, but something in the smoothness of his tone made my nerves twist.
“A natural choice for what?” Instinct—sharpened through constant vigilance—warned me I was asking too many questions in too quick a succession, but fear had already worn my composure to shreds.
“To spend time together...as is our duty.”
I gaped at him in bewilderment. Of all the things he could have said, those were the last words I expected—just aboveconfessing to a fondness for poetry or having a passion for serenades.
We’d been bound by duty to spend time together for the past five years, yet he had shown no interest in fulfilling that obligation…until now. The sudden change left me unconvinced of his sincerity, giving me reason to believe there was more to this sudden shift in his desires. I knew him well enough to recognize that nothing with him was ever as it seemed—every word he spoke carried layers of meaning, each one carefully measured, steeped in subtext.
But this wasn’t entirely new, merely the latest in a string of strange deviations: the shared meals, the cryptic conversations, the suggestion that I see where it all began, his letting me go last night.
I felt the measured weight of his observation, assessing my reaction, but I was too startled to give him anything but confusion. “You said there was something you wanted me to see.”
