Page 43 of Revert
“Me?” The word was a broken thing in his mouth. He looked stricken. “It sounded like you were having a nightmare, like…you were in pain. Did I hurt you? Because if I did—” His voice broke. The agony in his eyes stole my breath.
I shook my head. “The king.”
His whole body went still before fury erupted across his face. He swore under his breath, the kind of curse that should have summoned guards from the farthest corners of the palace…but all remained quiet in this captured moment together.
Tense silence stretched between us again, and when he finally spoke, it seemed to be with great effort. “In your dream, did he…murderyou?”
I gave the smallest nod, lowering my eyes from the intensity of his gaze. Upon reflection, it was strange it had been His Majesty I’d dreamt about killing me when I had an actual memory of the prince’s murder to draw upon. I subconsciously rubbed the scar from where Castiel had stabbed me; his pained gaze seemed to follow the movement, almost as if he knew it was there.
He reached for me instinctively, as if he couldn’t help himself.
“Bernice, I promise, I will never,ever—” But the vow broke before he could complete it. He seemed to wrestle with himself before releasing a sigh and slowly letting his hands fall away. “I don’t want to hurt you. Please, if nothing else…believe that.”
And for a moment, I did—in the whole cursed kingdom of Thorndale, this felt like the only safe place left. His strange and unfinished wording echoed in my mind, inviting questions I’d never thought to ask about my death. But now was not the time, not when the space between us held something too fragile to disturb.
I watched him retreat again—not with indifference, but reluctance, as if each step away was performed with duty more than his actual desire. A wall was built between us again, but this time it didn’t close all the way—there was a crack, through which I could still see him.
Beneath the layers of mistrust and secrets, I glimpsed a man who felt strangely familiar. I studied his profile softened by the dim light—not carved in distance and duty, but touched by something gentler, almost tender. How I wanted to believe that this version of him was real.
A sense of belonging filled the hush between us—not the silence of discomfort or strategy, but a quiet that felt…known, as if we had shared unscripted moments like this. Though no such memory existed, they were ones I could almost remember, as if my heart knew what my mind couldn’t confirm.
Even if I tried to shape tidy explanations with logic and suspicion, my feelings couldn’t lie, much as I wished they could. I truly must be going mad…but if this was madness, it was a strangely pleasant sensation.
But slowly, the spell of stillness began to fray and the reverence of the moment dimmed. Reality crept back in—I had been caught in the crown prince’s private chambers.
Though his reception so far had offered comfort rather than condemnation, I held no illusions about the danger of my situation. Despite his vow to protect me, it might not be a promise he could keep.
Before the weight of my doubt could fully settle, his voice cut through it, as if answering worries I hadn’t dared to speak aloud. “Rest assured no one will know of your presence here tonight.”
I frowned. “What reason do you have to keep it a secret?”
The corner of his lip quirked up. “I’m just relieved you’re speaking to me again.”
I raised my brow. “I don’t know what you mean; we’ve been interacting for days since the…incident.”
“No, that was the proper and aloof version of you meant for court,” he said. “I meant therealBernice—the one with a fiery stubbornness that always leaves me wondering what you’ll say next.”
I felt momentarily disarmed, as if he’d slipped past the armor I’d so carefully wrapped around myself—the deflection and practiced detachment that had long been my only defense. His words reached a place buried deep within me I’d long pretended didn’t exist—the secret thrill I felt from every clash of wit. Thiswas an even deeper, warmer sensation than our verbal battles, and I struggled between the logical need to ignore it and the unexpected longing to embrace it.
He looked away, as if afraid to hold my gaze too long. “I know our conversations have been…restricted of late, dictated by decorum. But it’s nice being able to really talk with you.”
It wasn’t quite anI miss you, but it stirred something dangerous in me that had no business stirring—for all my avoidance and anger, I had missed him, too.
The realization unlocked something inside me I hadn’t wanted to acknowledge, like discovering a chink in my armor right before battle—exposing everything I thought I’d fortified, leaving me defenseless and vulnerable.
His next words only stripped them away further. “I have promised my secrecy, but you must give me something in exchange.”
My body tensed, every muscle bracing against the cost far too out of reach for me to pay. “What do you want?”
“For you to tell me why you were in my room. As my betrothed, you are likely the only one who can get away with it, but I still would like to know.”
The warmth vanished in an instant. I scrambled for some justification, but no words came. In the end, they weren’t needed. With a slight tilt of his chin, he gestured towards the two journals he must have retrieved from my hiding place when he’d discovered me, now sitting neatly beside us. Their presence alone was damning—no excuse I offered could explain them away.
My breath hitched as he reached forward and picked up his journal, but to my surprise, he left mine. I stared. “Aren’t you going to take mine as well?”
“I have no need to.”
A beat of alarm surged. “Does that mean you’ve already read it?” I frowned as he shook his head. “You can’t expect me to believe that.” Yet part of me did.
