You're awake."

I said it casually, but my heart was still racing from what I had just witnessed. He looked at me, eyes darker than usual, still caught between the remnants of whatever nightmare had haunted him.

"Was it that bad? Who wants you dead?" he asked, his voice hoarse.

My breath hitched. Was he… watching me sleep?

Heat crawled up my neck as I wiped my face, mortified. Damn it. Had I been crying? Of course, I had.

The nightmare still clung to me—too vivid, too real. The cold metal against my skin, the jeering crowd, the sharp crack of the blade—

I swallowed hard. My execution. Over and over again.

I forced a smirk, trying to shake the weight off my chest. “You?” I shot back, but my voice wavered.

His eyes darkened slightly. Instead of answering, he reached for something beside him and handed it to me. A piece of parchment. Thick, expensive. I knew what it was before I even read it.

The engagement invitation.

Lysander and Yvonne’s engagement party.

I felt something twist inside me.

"We have a party to crash, my lady," he said, smirking.

Wait. Hold on. Was that a real smile? No. No way. I must still be half-asleep.

"You mean—?" I started, staring at him in disbelief.

He leaned back, arms crossed, and shrugged. "I can change my mind in seconds."

Oh. There it is. The usual cold, intimidating tone. The brief moment of charm? Completely gone.

Oh gods, he's back to normal.

But what changed? Why is he agreeing now? Did the potions work miracles beyond healing his poisoned blood? Did I accidentally give him a potion that makes him more cooperative? A ‘Listen-to-Thalia’ elixir? If so, I need to mass-produce that.

I cleared my throat. "So, we're really doing this?"

"Wear a fine dress. There should be something here. Ask the maidens or the villagers," he said, standing up, his commanding presence returning. "We will go tonight."

Tonight.

It’s now or never.

I looked back down at the invitation, at the names written in elegant gold ink.

Lysander.

Yvonne.

Lysander—who I once loved. Who I still loved, even if I refused to admit it. The one person who was supposed to fight for me but let me go so easily.

Yvonne—my dear half-sister. My enemy. The one who stole everything from me and never once looked back. The one I swore to destroy.

My fingers tightened around the parchment.

Yes. It’s now or never.

And I was going to make them regret.

—---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I adjusted the folds of my gown, my heels clicking against the stable floor as I searched for him. I expected a carriage. Or, at the very least, separate horses. But no. There he stood, beside a single black stallion, reins in hand, looking as if he hadn’t just barely survived being poisoned.

Wait. We’re riding together?

I frowned. “Are we seriously—”

Zagan barely glanced at me as he tightened the saddle straps. “Is that a problem?”

I exhaled through my nose. “Not really, I was just wondering if—”

“No need to wonder. You’ll ride with me.”

Oh, lovely. Riding side-saddle in a gown on one horse with him. Not awkward at all.

I sighed, letting it go. There were more important things to deal with. “What about the poison? Are you—”

He tensed.

Barely noticeable, but I saw it.

Then, he turned to me, eyes dark and unreadable. “Stop meddling in things that don’t concern you.”

I huffed, crossing my arms. “If we’re going to be allies, I think your near-death experience concerns me. I am to be your queen, after all.”

Zagan finally looked at me. Fully.

And then, he scoffed. “Who said you’d be my queen?”

My breath caught.

Before I could recover, he turned away, his voice calm. Distant. “We’re crashing an engagement, nothing more. I agreed to escort you, not get entangled in whatever this is.”

He pulled out the invitation, flicking it between his fingers before tucking it away inside his coat. “Besides, I’m the one actually invited. You think the palace guards will just let you in?”

I clenched my jaw. “So that’s it? You’re just… escorting me?”

His smirk was almost lazy. “Since you saved my life, I’m simply repaying the debt. Whatever it is you want to do with your prince”—his voice dropped into a whisper, the word sharp, mocking—“is none of my concern.”

My stomach twisted.

It was a simple statement. I knew that.

But then why did it sting?

Why did it feel like he was shoving me toward Lysander—as if I still belonged to him?

I didn’t.

And yet…

I swallowed, looking away.

Gods, I wasn’t ready for this. Seeing Lysander again. Seeing them together. Seeing him stand beside Yvonne, smiling, as if I had never meant anything.

I had to push that away. I had to focus.

But before I could, Zagan spoke again. And this time, his words were far worse.

“Also… I should warn you. You’re a bit of a ‘wanted’ person in the capital.”

I froze.

“What?”

“Treason,” he said, as if the word meant nothing. “Not sure of the details. Yet. Still deciding whether keeping a criminal like you is worth the trouble. Or if I should just kill you here and now.”

My mind spun.

What?!

Treason?

I should’ve avoided this. I should’ve expected this. But even so, the reality of it hit me like a blade to the chest.

Yvonne.

It had to be Yvonne.

Wasn’t it enough that she stole my place? My title? My future? Now she wanted me dead?

My hands curled into fists. That snake.

Zagan mounted the horse easily before offering me a hand. “Don’t worry,” he said, voice flat. “Since I don’t like owing anyone, I’ll help you out this once. But we do things on my terms.”

I swallowed back my anger and placed my hand in his.

With one swift motion, he pulled me up, settling me in front of him.

Then he leaned in slightly, his breath brushing against my ear. “I’ll get you inside the palace unnoticed. The rest is up to you.”

The rest is up to me.

I exhaled sharply.

Fine.

But then his voice dropped lower, and his next words sent a shiver down my spine.

“And whether I leave with you… depends on just how guilty you really are.”

The horse took off into the night.

I held onto the saddle, my thoughts racing faster than the wind against my skin.

The rhythmic thud of hooves against the dirt was the only sound between us. The river shimmered under the moonlight, its surface rippling as I dismounted, my thoughts heavier than the weight of my crimes—no, my alleged crimes.

I crouched near the water, splashing my face in hopes of washing away the fatigue clinging to my skin. It didn’t help. Nothing did.

"When’s the engagement?" I finally asked, staring at my reflection. My own face looked foreign. A traitor’s face.

Zagan, still on his horse, scoffed. “And why does that matter?”

“I need to be there,” I said, swallowing hard. “But first—can we stop by my house?”

His expression darkened. “Are you insane?”

I turned to face him. He wasn’t amused. Not that he ever was, but he looked especially intimidating in the dim light. And why did he have to look so good while being so judgmental? Even with that serious face, his sharp jawline and dark eyes made him unfairly handsome. His nonchalant voice was just as annoying—it was deep and smooth, but it carried a weight that made every word feel like law.

“Your face is all over the bulletins. The moment we set foot in the city, you’re done,” he said flatly. “What are you even planning? To waltz in and plead your innocence?”

“I don’t know,” I muttered. “Everything’s falling apart. I thought—if I could just speak to Lysander—”

Zagan cut me off. “You want revenge because he cheated on you?”

I blinked. “What?”

A smirk tugged at his lips. “You’re furious because he chose your half-sister over you.”

“No!” I snapped. “That’s not—”

He tilted his head, studying me like I was an interesting puzzle. His gaze was sharp, his eyes glowing slightly under the moonlight. I should have been annoyed at his arrogance, but instead, my traitorous brain took a moment to admire how pretty his lashes were. What was he? Some kind of brooding romance novel hero? And why was I noticing this now?

“Then what do you want? To become queen? Or were you actually in love with Lysander?”

His gaze burned into me. I looked away.

What did I want?

Revenge? Yes. But not for that.

I wanted justice for something that hasn’t even happened yet—my execution. My sister had framed me for treason, convinced Lysander and the Queen of my guilt. That was why I had to act now. Before it was too late.

But then what? Did I want Yvonne dead? Did I just want my name cleared? Or was I fighting for something bigger—something that was rightfully mine?

“You’re quiet,” Zagan remarked.

“I…” My fingers clenched. “I don’t know.”

His stare turned disapproving. “Tell me, why is Lady Yvonne the one replacing you? It could’ve been someone else of rank—Duchess Arabelle, Lady Rosalind… but your sister? It’s almost as if you left town willingly.”

My blood ran cold.

“Are you suggesting that I chose to leave so she could take my place?”

He shrugged. “People might think so.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“Is it?” His tone was maddeningly indifferent. “Think like a commoner for once. A noblewoman disappears, her sister conveniently takes her place, and no one questions it? Either you really committed treason, or you ran away and let her have it.”

I swallowed. When he put it like that, it did sound damning.

“I’m not guilty of treason,” I whispered. “You have to believe me.”

“Then tell me what to believe.”

I hesitated. “My sister…” I trailed off. I couldn’t accuse her outright. Not without proof. “I suspect someone. Someone is behind all this.”

“Your sister?”

“I—I’m not sure.”

“You’re not making any sense.”

Wait. The letter.

“There was a letter,” I blurted. “Before I left. It was on my desk.”

Zagan raised a brow. “And?”

I licked my lips, hesitating. “It… it accused me of something. It—it talked about a plan. Poison.” My throat tightened. “It said the deed was done—that I had poisoned Lysander’s food.”

Zagan didn’t react immediately. His expression remained stoic, but there was something in his gaze—like he was actually concerned, even if he refused to show it outright. Did he care? No, probably not. But still…

“And where is this letter?” he asked.

I hesitated. “I burned it.”

His silence stretched between us. Then—

“How convenient,” he said dryly. “So you destroyed the only proof that could either incriminate or exonerate you.”

I clenched my fists. “I panicked! I don’t know why it was there, I—” I exhaled shakily. “Even if Lysander found a letter like that, no one would believe me. Not anymore.”

Zagan watched me carefully. “Do you trust anyone?”

I felt something in my chest crack. “I don’t know who to trust anymore.”

Tears blurred my vision, but I didn’t care. “I saw myself die, Zagan. Executed before my own eyes. I felt the blade slice my throat. I felt my blood leave my body.” My breath trembled. “My soul died that day. And not a single person stood up for me. Not even you.”

Zagan was unreadable. But his gaze—his galaxy-colored eyes—burned into me like he saw everything.

Then, without a word, he pulled me into his arms.

I stiffened.

Shadows curled around us, swallowing the moonlight whole. His grip was firm, shielding, but something in the air had shifted—

“Shh.” His lips were close to my ear. “Someone’s here.”

I froze.

Beyond the trees, footsteps. Voices.

But I wasn’t paying attention anymore. Holy hell, why is he so sturdy? His arms were like steel, and I could feel every muscle beneath his coat. His scent—something dark, something dangerous—was making my thoughts spiral. This is NOT the time to be thinking about how hot he is!

And yet, my brain betrayed me. Maybe being on the run with him won’t be so bad?

No. Focus, Thalia. Focus.

I forced myself to listen, but my heart was now racing for a completely different reason.

“Did you hear?” a man’s voice whispered. “The engagement is happening soon.”

“So suddenly?” another replied.

“Yeah. But why Lady Yvonne of all people?”

“Doesn’t make sense, does it?”

“None of this does,” someone muttered. “Lady Thalia—treason? Why would she poison the prince? He was her only way to become queen.”

“Maybe she was jealous.”

“Jealous, or maybe…” a pause. “Maybe this was all a setup.”

Goosebumps prickled my skin.

A third voice lowered. “And Lady Yvonne… no one really knows where she came from. Her family rose through the ranks because of Lady Thalia’s father, but—before that? They were nothing.”

“Could they be spies?”

“Or witches.”

A chill shot through me. My pulse thundered.

I had never once questioned it. My father took Yvonne and her mother in without hesitation. But what if—what if this had all been a game from the start?

And then, the last whisper—

“Remember, Lady Thalia is the only Reinilda left. That’s why she was betrothed to the prince. She’s the heir to the lost kingdom.”

My breath hitched.

I felt Zagan’s hold tighten. He had heard it, too.

The lost kingdom? How could I forget? The moment my mom disappeared, the land of the lost kingdom floated into the air—taking the Celestians with it. It had been my paradise once. We lived there in peace until no Reinildas were left. Except for me.

I wasn’t supposed to have magic—until I discovered that I did…yesterday. Maybe that was why no one had been after me. The world believed the Reinildas were annihilated during the war between Terran and Alazne. Our lineage had the unique ability to repel magic, but we had our own weaknesses—blades and swords. That was why my mother trained me as a warrior instead of raising me as a noble princess. I still remember the way she gripped my hands around a spear rather than a quill. My father hadn’t objected, but my sister… She had always questioned why I insisted on training. I should have been focused on becoming a fine lady, she said. I should have been graceful, demure, and elegant like her. That was her goal—to be the perfect noblewoman.

I was betrothed to the prince not because of love, but because my mother was the only one the former king and queen trusted. The Reinildas were high-ranking commanders of Alazne, loyal to the crown. I remember the stories my mother used to tell me—how our ancestors tamed and rode dragons. Wait… dragons?

They were gone, too.

No one had seen them since the war. Since my mother and I were the only ones left. I never even knew if she possessed magic. She never spoke of it, never demonstrated it. Because if anyone found out, she would have been hunted. Targeted. By the Celestians.

Of course. The Celestians.

Terranians had created them. And Terran and Alazne had always been in conflict. The two lands existed on opposite sides of the world. Our Reinilda kingdom had once been neutral—respected by all, an independent realm that served as the mediator between the two great nations. But something happened. Something that shattered that fragile balance and ignited the war.

A sudden clash of steel and agonized cries jolted me back to reality.

The hunters were being slaughtered.