POV Luella
The royal ball celebrating the harvest season was in full swing when Kyrell approached me with a mocking bow. The great hall sparkled with candlelight, and the scents of autumn flowers and wine filled the air.
What does he want now? Can't he leave me alone for one evening?
"Lady Luella," he said, his voice carrying that familiar edge of cruelty. "Would you honor me with a dance?"
He's planning something. This isn't a genuine request.
I could feel every eye in the room turning toward us. To refuse would cause a scene, but to accept meant walking into whatever trap he'd set.
"Of course, Your Highness," I replied, placing my hand in his.
I won't give him the satisfaction of seeing me afraid.
As we moved through the formal steps of the court dance, Kyrell leaned close enough that only I could hear his whispered words.
"You look particularly desperate tonight," he murmured, his black eyes glittering with malice. "Is this another attempt to win everyone's approval? So pathetic."
Keep dancing. Don't let anyone see how his words affect you.
"Tell me," he continued as we turned in perfect rhythm, "do you ever wonder what my dear brother really says about you behind closed doors?"
Don't listen to him. He's trying to poison your mind again.
"I imagine it goes something like this," Kyrell whispered, his voice taking on a mocking tone that sounded disturbingly like Tobias. "She's so naive, so boring. Useful only for her political connections and that sweet little body."
That's not true. Tobias loves me.
"Does he whisper sweet lies in your ear while he's using you?" Kyrell asked, spinning me with practiced grace. "Tell you how special you are while thinking about how tedious you've become?"
Stop. Just stop.
My wolf snarled inside me, but I forced myself to maintain the dance steps, to keep my expression neutral for our watching audience.
"You're wrong," I said quietly. "Tobias cares about me."
"Does he? Or does he care about what you represent?" Kyrell's smile was razor-sharp. "A well-trained political asset who spreads her legs on command."
His words are like poison, seeping into every doubt I've ever had.
The dance seemed to last forever, each step accompanied by another cutting observation designed to destroy my confidence. By the time the music ended, I felt hollowed out, carved empty by his psychological warfare.
Thank the goddess that's over.
Tobias immediately stepped in as Kyrell bowed and walked away.
"Are you alright?" Tobias asked, his brown eyes searching my face. "You look pale."
He's concerned. He cares.
"I'm fine," I lied. "Just tired from dancing."
"What did he say to you?" Tobias demanded, his voice getting sharper. "I could see him talking the entire time."
His scent is changing. Getting more aggressive.
"Nothing important. Just court gossip."
But Tobias wasn't satisfied with my answer. He took my arm and guided me toward a private alcove, his grip firm enough to make me stumble.
"Don't lie to me," he said once we were alone. "What did my brother say?"
Why is he so angry? I'm the victim here.
"He was just being cruel, as usual," I said, trying to pull away. "It doesn't matter."
"It does matter," Tobias said, his grip tightening on my wrists. "You keep seeking him out. You keep talking to him. Why?"
His fingers are digging into my skin. This hurts.
"I don't seek him out," I protested. "He corners me. He—"
"Stop lying," Tobias snarled, his perfect princely mask slipping to reveal something darker underneath. "I see how you look at him. I see how you respond to him."
This is wrong. He's hurting me.
"Tobias, you're hurting me," I said, trying to twist free.
But his grip only tightened, his fingers pressing into my wrists hard enough that I knew there would be bruises.
"Maybe you need to be reminded who you belong to," he said, his voice low and dangerous.
This isn't the gentle man who made love to me under the stars. This is someone else entirely.
When he finally released me, I stumbled backward, cradling my aching wrists. Dark marks were already forming where his fingers had been.
"I'm sorry," Tobias said immediately, his mask sliding back into place. "I didn't mean—you just make me so jealous sometimes."
He's apologizing, but the damage is done.
"I need some air," I said, not trusting myself to say more.
I fled to my chambers, my wolf pacing restlessly inside me. Something was deeply wrong with everything happening around me, but I couldn't quite grasp what.
Tobias has never hurt me before. But those bruises are real.
When I pushed open my door, I found Kyrell waiting in the shadows by my window. His black eyes took in my appearance with cold calculation.
"Well, well," he said softly. "Look who's finally learning the truth about perfect Prince Tobias."
How did he get in here? How does he always know?
Without thinking, I held up my wrists, showing him the dark marks Tobias had left.
Something murderous flashed across Kyrell's face before it was replaced by his usual cruel smile.
"Did you enjoy discovering what he's really like?" he asked, but there was something different in his voice. Something almost like concern.
For a moment, he looked angry on my behalf. But that can't be right.
"He was just jealous," I said, though the words felt hollow.
"Jealous," Kyrell repeated. "Is that what you're calling abuse now?"
Abuse? No, that's not what this was.
"It wasn't abuse," I protested. "He was just upset about—"
"About what? About you talking to me?" Kyrell stepped closer. "So he hurt you to teach you a lesson?"
Why does he sound almost... protective?
But then his expression hardened again, and the cruel stranger returned.
"Though I suppose you deserved it," he said with vicious satisfaction. "For being stupid enough to trust either of us."
And there's the Kyrell I know. Cruel and heartless.
"Get out," I said wearily. "I can't deal with your games tonight."
"No games," he replied, moving toward the window. "Just truth. Maybe now you'll start seeing what's really happening around you."
What does he mean by that?
He paused at the window, looking back at me with those unreadable black eyes.
"Those bruises will fade," he said quietly. "But the pattern won't. Remember that."
Then he was gone, leaving me alone with my aching wrists and a growing sense that everything I thought I knew was falling apart.
What pattern? What is he talking about?