The room was too large. Too quiet. The soft velvet, the golden embroidery, the roses in crystal vases—none of it felt like safety. It felt like a cage.
I had allowed myself to be dragged into this castle. A guest in name only. I was a tourist in someone else's skin. And with everything that had happened… I'd suspect me too.
A maid approached, pouring me a cup of tea. A warm welcome. She gestured to the tray of macaroons beside me. I nodded.
The door clicked shut.
From the shadows of the room, the Crown Prince stepped forward, a small silver vial glinting in his hand. One from the underground lab.
"You recognize this, don't you?" he asked, placing it on the table between us.
I sat stiffly. "You know I do. Why ask?"
He tilted his head. "Is this what had you convulsing and unconscious for a week?"
I blinked. "I suppose. I didn't pour it myself, so I've no idea which vial was used."
"You found the underground lab and had… quite detailed information about it. Not even my scout could locate the place."
He was baiting me. Testing me. Trying to catch a slip. But I was in the dark too.
"I'd heard rumors—old lores. I was testing them out," I said carefully. "Finding that place was pure coincidence."
"You could be charged for the kidnapping of the missing women across the isles."
My blood froze, but my face remained still.
"I think you're hiding something," he said slowly. "And whatever it is… it's delaying our engagement."
Maybe he'd heard of how desperate Iris was to marry him. But I wasn't her. I had no desperation tethering me to him.
"When am I going home?" I asked, sipping my tea.
"I told you… after this is over," he replied, lifting the vial.
"And when will that be?"
"When you agree to work with us. Everything—every clue, every thread—points to you. And the evidence… it has you all over it."
"Then let me prove my innocence," I said, setting the cup down. "That's all I want."
"Iris Tahenna," he said, voice lower. "We've met before—more than once. But the last time, when you were lucid… you didn't even recognize me."
He paused.
"I thought it was an act. A stunt to gain my attention. But I had you watched. You were… strange."
I wiped at the cold sweat on my brow with trembling hands.
"You missed our dinner date, so I came to your manor. That's when we found you—screaming, convulsing." He offered a faint smile. "You were unconscious for a week. The culprit was assumed to be your mother. She was arrested and questioned."
He uncorked the vial.
"And then what happened?" I asked, stuffing a macaroon into my mouth to calm my nerves.
"You," he said, lifting the vial to his lips.
"Me?" I lunged forward, grabbing his wrist. "Don't drink that!"
"What'll happen if I do?" he asked, easily pulling away.
"I… I don't know."
"Then we'll never know," he said, tipping the vial and swallowing its contents.
I rushed toward him, arms wrapping around his waist. "Spit it out!" I cried, pressing on his stomach—only to be met with solid muscle.
"You need to throw up," I muttered in a panic.
He chuckled, peeling my arms away.
"Are you okay?" I searched his face. "Can you breathe?"
"I'm fine…" he started—but he didn't finish. His body went limp, collapsing to the floor.
I screamed.
Dropping to my knees, I shook him. No response. My hands fumbled to find his pulse, but I was in shock. I couldn't tell what was his heartbeat or mine.
He was still.
The Crown Prince. Unmoving.
And I was the only one here.
They'd pin it on me. Treason. Not a trial—execution. This wasn't home. There were no second chances here. I'd be hanged—or worse, burned at the stake for the public's amusement.
"Sir," I whispered, shaking him as tears filled my eyes. "Please… I can't die. I want to live."
Should I slap him? I'd survived two vials. Maybe he would too.
I raised my hand—and slapped him.
The sound echoed across the room.
His eyes flew open. He touched his cheek, stunned. Relief crashed over me and I broke into tears, pulling him into a tight embrace.
"You scared me," I sobbed.
He wrapped an arm around my waist, gently patting my back as I hiccupped.
"I didn't know you'd break this easily," he said softly.
Wait. What?
I pulled away. "What do you mean by that?"
He stood, offering his hand to help me up.
I took it, but didn't let go of my suspicion.
"This was a test?" I asked. "Tell me this wasn't a prank."
He was silent.
"But you weren't really unconscious, were you?"
He said nothing.
I smiled bitterly.
I picked up the dessert tray and hurled it at him. He ducked just in time.
"What was in that vial?"
"I don't know. They told me to drink it," he replied, too casually.
"I told you—I remember nothing. I want to help. I know the past can't be forgiven easily. But I want to help them—to bring those women back home."
I wiped my tears, angry now.
"But this? Making me panic, making me break?"
I screamed.
"Get out!"
He didn't move.
"Get the fuck out!" I shouted, picking up a crystal vase. He took a step back.
"I'll throw it at you!"
He opened the door.
"I'm sorry," he said quietly before stepping out.
I hurled the vase at the closed door, then ran to the bed. I pulled the covers over my head and let the sobs take me.
I was tired.