He didn’t want her strength.

Didn’t want her obedience.

He just wanted… to stay.

It reminded her of Yuan. That same familiarity. But where Yuan was cold steel and unwavering order, Theon was the opposite. He was warm sunlight slipping through cracks she’d forgotten were there.

Where Yuan made her stable—

Theon made her feel.

That was far more dangerous.

She glanced at him from the bed as he leaned back against the window seat, legs stretched long, one arm behind his head. He looked like he belonged here, as if this cold, sealed world had always been his to intrude upon.

Aelira narrowed her eyes. “You’re persistent.”

He didn’t open his eyes. “That’s how I survived an empire that never wanted me.”

She frowned. “This isn’t survival. You’re just being annoying.”

“I like the silence in here,” he replied lazily. “And the company.”

She turned her face away. “Tch. You talk too much to enjoy silence.”

Theon opened one eye, watching her with a smirk. “I talk to see how far I can push your walls.” “Thinking about it, I have never been told your name. I introduced myself and that’s it. It’s either hey or you.” 

That made her still.

“Call whatever you want. It does not matter.” 

Theon frowned with disagreement, whoever you are, you deserve a name. One that belong to you and be you. “How about Liz, then. That’s what I will call you.” 

It’s a beautiful name, perfect fit for you.

He didn’t say it like a flirt.

He said it like a fact.

Like someone who had spent months studying her silhouette in the sunset, her quiet descents from the tree, her visits to the queen’s balcony.

Like someone who already knew her.

Her lips pressed into a line. “What made you talked to me that day?”

He didn’t hesitate.

“I talked to you because I knew once I did, you’d never walk away.”

Her breath caught in her throat.

He stood, stepping closer. Not threatening. Not demanding. Just present.

Like a tether gently wrapping around her wrist.

“You remind me of a spider,” she murmured.

He grinned. “Seductive.”

“Strategic,” she corrected. “You watched me for months. Built a web. And now you’re just waiting for me to step in.”

“I didn’t wait,” he said, leaning on the edge of her bed. “You’ve been in it since the moment you looked back at me on that tree.”

She wanted to scoff. To mock the foolishness of that statement.

But something inside her ached instead.

She looked away, her hand unconsciously pressing into the bandage along her side. “I’m not someone worth catching.”

Theon’s voice softened. “That’s the thing about spiders, Liz. We don’t catch prey because it’s worthy. We catch it because it’s what we want.”

Silence fell again, thick with everything she couldn’t say.

And yet—for the first time in years, Aelira felt less alone.

“So,” she said coolly, “I thought you were meant to be the king consort. Why spend your time here, entertaining a shadow when you’ve got a throne to chase?”

Theon grinned, stepping and bending just close enough that she could hear the rhythm of his breath. “Hmm… Is that what we call jealousy?”

She blinked once, unamused. “Nonsense.”

He chuckled but didn’t press. Instead, he pulled back a step, his gaze lingering.

“The empire’s losing,” he said, tone shifting. “And Solhara—your precious kingdom—it’s one of the few places we’ve never managed to crack.”

Aelira said nothing, but her eyes narrowed slightly and listened.

“Hurts us more than we admit,” Theon went on. “The court thinks your young queen’s grip is slipping. But Vaelen doesn’t allow that. And…”

He paused, letting the name linger.

“General Yuan.”

Aelira’s head snapped up. Theon caught the flicker in her eyes—the faint smile tugging at her lips despite herself. There it is again, he thought. That name means something.

“He’s a monster, that one,” Theon continued. “In the empire, his name alone sends shivers through the barracks. Rumor is, he once took down an entire fortress alone. Efficient, cold, inhuman. Everyone’s terrified.”

Aelira held the faintest smile—pride she couldn’t suppress.

She asked, voice low, “Is that why you’re here? As a prisoner of war?”

Theon raised a brow. “Right… and wrong.”

He crossed his arms, posture suddenly more grounded.

“In the empire, it’s not like Solhara. The emperor doesn’t hold all the power. There are factions—old bloodlines, consorts, empresses and their kin—all fighting their own little wars.”

Aelira watched him quietly.

“My mother,” he went on, “was the emperor’s favored concubine. Not of high blood, but… deeply loved. That makes me a threat to the empress’s line. The emperor can’t protect me openly—so he sends me here, dressed it up as a diplomatic move. A ‘king-consort candidate’.”

A bitter smile crept onto his lips.

“And here I am.”

He looked over at her.

“Kaeyla and I… we get along. We understand each other. That’s all. Neither of us wants what’s been handed to us.”

Aelira’s hand clenched tightly around the sheets without thinking.

Theon noticed.

He softened his voice. “Don’t worry. Nothing romantic ever bloomed.”

She didn’t answer, but her shoulders eased.

“Besides,” he added, more seriously, “Vaelen would never allow it. This kingdom may be smaller, but it’s not weak. He won’t let the queen marry the bastard of a broken court. I’m a tool for politics—a way to calm the empire’s court without spilling blood.”

He turned slightly, his tone heavier.

“As cruel as he is to you… I have to admit, he’s smart. Maybe even kind in his own twisted way. Allowing me into the palace. Sending Yuan to the border. It stopped a hundred thousand needless deaths.”

Aelira lowered her gaze at that. Her voice came quiet.

“So you’re another prisoner, like me.”

Theon gave a small, crooked smile.

“Maybe,” he said, “but at least now I’ve found a fellow inmate worth talking to.”