Page 44 of Revert
He studied me for a moment, then shrugged. “Whether you do or not is your choice. In the end, I’ve already gotten what I wanted from it.” His lips twitched with what might’ve been amusement—too faint to call a smile, but the knowing curve unsettled me more than fury would have. “I can tell you’re curious. It’s not like you to not ask.”
“I’m not curious,” I snapped, which only made his half-smile grow. I refused to let myself dwell on how handsome he looked with one side of his mouth quirked in amusement, the chill in his usual cold demeanor momentarily melted away.
Without warning, he reached out and gently poked the corner of my scowl. “Despite your endearing stubbornness in admitting it, I’ll humor you. You know traps are my specialty. If I wanted you to talk to me again, I had to find the perfect lure to draw you in.”
My heart skipped a beat as his meaning slowly settled over me. “You mean?—”
He smirked. “I knew that for all your annoyance, you wouldn’t be able to resist retrieving your journal.”
I stared at him, stunned. My fingers brushed the edge of the journal, its secrets still untouched. He’d known how to lure me here, but he hadn’t betrayed my trust. “Why would you set such a dangerous trap?”
He didn’t answer, at least not with words. But something in his expression flickered, a truth half-revealed and shut away before I could catch it. But the possibilities it invited were enough to haunt me.
“For all my schemes, admittedly you surprised me,” he said. “I anticipated one of your fierce confrontations—storming upto me for a heated debate over tea and cakes or a duel in the garden, not sneaking into my chambers like a thief.”
He gave a soft laugh, the first truly sincere one I’d ever heard from him—not like a predator savoring the thrill of the hunt, but someone who took genuine delight in my company.
“You never cease to surprise me,” he murmured. “But I suppose this is better—fewer eyes and ears, almost like the way it used to…”
I glared, the only shield for my pounding heart. He lifted a hand and lightly traced the edge of my eyes with his fingertip, his gaze almost wistful.
“There’s the fire I crave.” The reverence in his tone unraveled something inside me. “You’re more dangerous than you know. You could ask for the kingdom and I think I would have to give it to you.”
My mind whirled with every word, caught between feeling flattered and frightened. I had spent every moment at court playing politics with a weak hand, dancing along the edge of danger—but he spoke as if I held all the cards. And suddenly I wasn’t sure who held the power between us anymore.
But knowing what I held wasn’t the same as knowing how to play it…or how the game would change because of it. Even if I made all the right moves, I wasn’t prepared for the deviation that would lead me down a path I might never return from.
I didn’t know how to respond to his vow that had shifted the balance between us, leaving me suspended between defense and surrender. I searched his face in hopes of finding answers in the quiet lines of his expression. His features had softened—not guarded or calculating, but almost content, as if my presence alone brought him peace.
And that, perhaps, was the most dangerous part of all.
“You seem different,” I said at last.
He tilted his head slightly. “This room isn’t entirely free of prying eyes to disregard all caution, but it allows for a touch more honesty than the court ever does.”
I arched a brow. “How generous. No witnesses to your scheme, just me and my conveniently stolen property.”
A glimmer of amusement flickered in his eyes. “If I truly meant to trap you, I would’ve chosen a far less compromising method. Think of the scandal.” He arched his brows in exaggerated horror, a rare flash of mischief he quickly stifled, as if he’d caught himself straying too close to something real.
I was tempted to smile. Part of me wanted to lean into the game and match his banter, but the wariness I couldn’t escape still coiled too tightly in my chest. “So your chambers aren’t a trap, but locking me in an enchanted closetwas?”
It was the first time we’d spoken of the day we’d spent alone in that forgotten wing of the palace. Castiel’s face fell as the playful persona faded The spell between us fractured, and with it the fragile camaraderie we’d clung to, revealing the strain beneath…as if something within him—long held together by sheer will—was beginning to crack.
I studied him more closely, noticing the shadows under his eyes and the rigid set of his posture. He no longer looked like a prince to be feared, or a man ruling from a formidable throne, but someone bracing beneath its crushing weight, exhausted from the burden.
How long had I been too blinded by hatred and pride to see it?
The silence lingered, finally broken by his quiet sigh. “I’m sorry, Bernice.”
I gaped at him. I repeated, certain I’d misheard. An apology, from a Thorndale prince? Impossible. “You’re…sorry?”
His gaze stayed fixed just beyond my shoulder, as if the sight of me might undo his nerve. “It was wrong of me…to forceyou into a position to spend time with me before you were ready. There were so many things I longed to tell you, but I underestimated the limits I’m under, meaning I frightened you for no reason. My behavior was inexcusable.”
There was something heartbreakingly earnest in his confession, a boyish awkwardness beneath his formality when his gaze flicked towards me, almost shyly, as if gauging my reaction.
“That’s not my only offense. I also wanted to apologize for—“ His words faltered, his mouth pressing shut before he could say more.
My pulse quickened. Was he referring to…but surely hecouldn’tbe, for his most grievous crime against me occurred in a future of a different timeline. He should have no knowledge of it. Yet for the first time, I wondered if perhaps…he did.
