Chapter 32

The hollow sound of the lock sliding into place echoed in Aeliana's room, a final, cold punctuation to Tharx's orders. She stood there, staring at the door, her heart pounding in disbelief. Confined to her quarters. Tharx hadn't even told her himself; the guards had relayed his command with rigid formality, their gazes impassive, as though her confinement was nothing more than another routine order.

Aeliana gripped the edge of her chair, her knuckles white. After everything-after the tentative trust, the rare moments of vulnerability, the shared fears-Tharx had sent her back to this prison. She had dared to believe that she was more to him than a pawn, more than a liability to be hidden away. And now, all of it seemed as fragile and meaningless as the whisper of her own breath against the stone walls.

She sank into the chair, staring at the walls that seemed to close in around her. She thought of the conversations they'd had, the quiet nights when she'd seen him struggle with his role as a ruler, the glimpses of warmth he'd shown even if he'd tried to hide them. Those moments had felt real, as though the unyielding king she'd met upon her arrival was finally giving way to something deeper. Now, it seemed, all those moments had been fleeting illusions, shattered the moment Draxis's influence began to sway the council.

And yet, she knew why he was doing it. The council had pressured him, had questioned his every move since Draxis arrived. Her presence was already dangerous enough; Draxis's thinly veiled threats had only increased the risk. She understood the logic behind it, even if it tore at her. But understanding it didn't ease the ache in her chest, the sense of betrayal that gnawed at her.

Aeliana's thoughts raced as she sat alone in the quiet, her mind turning over the events that had led to this moment. Tharx had made it clear-her position in his world was precarious, defined by whatever need suited him best. She had allowed herself to believe she had earned his trust, maybe even his protection. But now, she felt discarded, a complication removed from his world as easily as a piece in a game.

Days passed, each one blurring into the next. She had always felt the fortress walls around her, but now they felt more oppressive, almost suffocating. The guards outside her room were silent, offering no hint of what was happening beyond the door. Time slipped by in a monotonous stretch, the quiet gnawing at her patience. The longer she sat there, the more the fury began to build inside her, a quiet, simmering rage that bubbled up in her chest.

Each day, her resentment toward Tharx deepened. How could he turn so cold, so distant, after everything they'd been through? She had stood by him, even when the court had turned against her, even when it meant risking her own life. And he had simply shut her away. Her thoughts grew darker as she pondered the possibility that she had been nothing more than a pawn all along-a convenient tool to use and discard as he saw fit.

But then, her mind would drift back to those rare moments when she had glimpsed the vulnerability in him, the burden he carried as king. She could recall his hesitations, the quiet intensity in his gaze, and the unspoken promises that had lingered between them. Those memories clashed with the present reality, creating an ache that refused to leave her.

Finally, after days of silence, the door creaked open, and Tharx stepped into the room. He stood there, his posture rigid, his gaze fixed on some distant point beyond her shoulder. Aeliana felt the familiar swell of emotions rise within her-relief, anger, and the bitterness of betrayal all wrapped together. She stood, the weight of her words pushing her forward.

"So," she began, her voice barely above a whisper, "is this how it ends? Am I just to be locked away, forgotten?"

Tharx's eyes met hers, the familiar coldness returning. "You were never meant to be part of this, Aeliana. This world is not yours, and the council's doubts have only grown. Keeping you here, in the open, endangers more than just you."

Aeliana's hands clenched at her sides, the simmering anger spilling over. "And that's all I am to you? A danger to be removed?"

"You are a distraction I cannot afford," Tharx replied, his voice hard, unyielding. "The council already sees me as compromised. Draxis has manipulated every moment you have been at my side to turn them against me. The longer you are here, visible to them, the more power he gains."

"But it's not just about them, is it?" she demanded, stepping closer, her gaze defiant. "This is about you and the fact that you are terrified to admit that I mean something to you. You can't even look me in the eye and acknowledge it."

Tharx's gaze flickered, the cold mask slipping for just a fraction of a second. But then, as quickly as it had faltered, his composure returned, his expression hardening once more. "You are my prisoner," he said, his voice as sharp as a blade. "And nothing more."

The words hit her like a blow, and Aeliana felt the sting of tears welling in her eyes. She forced them back, unwilling to show weakness in front of him. "Fine," she whispered, her voice thick with bitterness. "If that's all I am to you, then I don't need your protection. Let Draxis come for me if he wants. I'd rather face that than stay here, locked away as your prisoner."

For a moment, Tharx's mask cracked, and a flicker of something-anger, perhaps, or frustration-flashed in his eyes. But he said nothing, only watching her with that infuriatingly distant gaze that seemed to pierce through her. He turned to leave, and as he reached the door, he paused, his hand resting on the frame.

"I am doing this to keep you safe," he said quietly, his voice barely audible. "Even if you cannot see it."

Then he was gone, the door shutting behind him with a finality that echoed through the room. Aeliana stood there, her heart pounding as his words lingered in the silence. Safe. The word tasted bitter on her tongue, a hollow justification that did nothing to ease the ache in her chest. Safe from what? Safe from the council's judgment? Safe from Draxis's manipulation?

Or was it really Tharx himself who feared what she had become to him?

In the days that followed, Aeliana's world shrank further. The walls of her quarters became her only companions, the silence pressing down on her like a weight. She spent hours pacing the floor, her mind churning with the pain of Tharx's rejection, the harsh reminder of her status as an outsider in this world.

She felt like a ghost, adrift in a place that had once felt promising. She had dared to believe in something beyond her captivity, to trust that there was a place for her in Tharx's life, even in his empire. But now, it seemed, that place had been an illusion-a fleeting dream that had shattered at the first sign of danger.

A part of her wanted to scream, to lash out at the unfairness of it all. She had been forced into this world, torn from everything she knew, and had adapted as best as she could. She had survived the suspicions, the veiled threats, the cold stares of the court. And for what? To be discarded the moment things became too complicated?

But as the days wore on, her anger began to harden, transforming into a cold resolve. She might have been confined to her quarters, but she refused to let herself be reduced to nothing more than a pawn in Tharx's game. If he thought he could shut her away, remove her from his life as though she were nothing, he was sorely mistaken.

If this was to be her fate, then she would find a way to shape it herself.