Three days. I’d managed to avoid Lilith for three days, and it was slowly killing me.
Every meal taken in private quarters instead of the great hall. Every council meeting was postponed or relocated to rooms she couldn’t access.
Every social function attended only after confirming her absence. I’d become a master of strategic avoidance, timing my movements through the palace like a military campaign.
But the bond fought me every step of the way.
“Your Highness appears… unwell.” Damien’s voice carried a note of sarcasm as he entered my study, his dark eyes taking in my disheveled appearance. “When did you last sleep, brother?”
“I don’t need sleep.” I didn’t look up from the territorial maps spread across my desk, though the borders blurred together in meaningless lines. “I need to focus on the kingdom’s affairs.”
“The kingdom’s affairs?” He moved closer, and I caught the scent of disapproval radiating from him. “Is that what we’re calling this self-imposed exile?”
“I’m not exiled. I’m working.”
“You’re hiding.” His voice carried the blunt honesty that made him invaluable as an advisor and insufferable as a brother. “The entire court of Silver Moon is talking about it. The Crown Prince who flees from his own mate like she carries the plague.”
I finally looked up, letting him see the gold fire that burned in my eyes. “Watch your tongue.”
“Or what? You’ll avoid me too?” He laughed, but there was no humor in it. “Add me to the growing list of people you can’t bear to be in the same room with?”
“This conversation is over.”
“No, it’s not.” He slammed his palm against the desk, scattering the maps. “You’re the heir to the throne, Kieran. Your behavior affects everyone in this kingdom. The other territories are already questioning your stability.”
“My stability is not in question.”
“Isn’t it?” He leaned forward, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “You missed the summit with the Eastern Packs. You postponed the grain negotiations. You’ve avoided three separate council meetings because she might be there.”
“I’ve been busy—”
“You’ve been pathetic.” The word hit like a physical blow. “And if you continue down this path, you’ll be a dead king within the year.”
I stood so quickly my chair toppled backward. “Get out.”
“The other territories smell weakness, brother. They’re circling like vultures, waiting for the moment to strike. And you’re giving them exactly what they want—a broken heir who can’t even face his own mate.”
“I said get out!”
“Make me.” His eyes blazed with challenge. “Or are you too weak to even throw me out of your own study?”
The word ‘weak’ hit something primal in my chest.
I lunged forward, my hand closing around his throat before he could blink. We crashed backward into the bookshelf, sending ancient tomes tumbling to the floor.
“I am not weak,” I snarled against his ear.
“Then prove it.” He gasped the words through my grip. “Stop running from the one person who could make you stronger.”
“She doesn’t make me stronger.” I released him, stepping back as he rubbed his throat. “She makes me vulnerable. Distracted. Emotional.”
“She makes you human.”
“I can’t afford to be human!” The admission exploded from me with enough force to rattle the windows. “I’m the Crown Prince of Willowclaw! I don’t get to have feelings, or desires, or—”
“Love? Mate?” Damien’s voice was soft now, almost gentle. “Is that what terrifies you? The possibility that you might actually love her?”
The question hung in the air like a blade. I turned away, staring out the window at the gardens below.
Even from here, I could see the path where she walked each evening, the bench where she often sat to read.
“Love is weakness,” I said quietly. “Father made that clear.”
“Father is wrong about a lot of things.”
“He is right about this one for sure.” I pressed my palm against the cool glass. “A king who loves can be controlled. Manipulated. Destroyed.”
“Or he can be inspired to greatness.” Damien moved to stand beside me. “The greatest kings in history weren’t the ones who ruled with cold logic. They were the ones who had something worth fighting for.”
“And something worth losing.” I closed my eyes, feeling the bond pulse with renewed intensity. “I won’t give my enemies that kind of power over me.”
“Then you’re already defeated.” His words carried the weight of prophecy. “Because power without purpose is just tyranny. And a king who rules without love is no king at all.”
He left me alone with my thoughts and the growing ache in my chest.
The bond had grown stronger over the past three days, not weaker. Every hour of separation felt like torture, every moment of resistance a battle against my own nature.
But I would not break. I would not surrender to something that could destroy everything I’d been raised to protect.
Even if it destroyed me in the process.
That night, I stood at my window watching the moonlit gardens, knowing she would come. She always came at this hour, seeking the peace that had been stolen from her by my rejection.
When she appeared, walking slowly along the silver path, my heart clenched with longing so intense it drove me to my knees.
She was beautiful in the moonlight, ethereal and perfect, and every instinct screamed at me to go to her. But I remained frozen behind glass, a prisoner of my own fear.
She stopped suddenly, her head turning toward my window.
Even from this distance, I could see the tears streaming down her face, I could feel her pain through the bond like a knife to my chest.
I pressed my forehead against the cold glass, my breath fogging the surface. The bond stretched between us like a living thing, begging for resolution, for healing, for the completion that only she could provide.
But I didn’t move.
I watched her walk away, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs, and felt a part of my soul die with each step she took.
Love is a weakness. And I would not be weak.