The prince I'd once trusted was dead, and the monster wearing his face was just getting started.
Luka hadn't spoken to me since our confrontation three days ago. But something in the palace had changed, a shift so subtle I almost missed it. The Fae servants who cleaned my chambers walked quieter now, their movements careful and contained.
"Where is Sera today?" I asked the silver-haired Fae who was arranging fresh flowers in place of my usual attendant.
The woman's hands stilled on the stems. "She's... reassigned, Your Highness."
"Reassigned where?"
"I don't know, Your Highness." She wouldn't meet my eyes. "We don't ask questions."
When another servant appeared with bruises along her collarbone, the marks partially hidden beneath the high collar of her uniform, I tried again.
"What happened to your neck?" I asked gently.
She flinched away like I might strike her. "Nothing, Your Highness. Just... clumsy."
"Those don't look like bruises from clumsiness."
"Please don't ask," she whispered, her voice breaking. "Please."
At court, Luka played the perfect prince. He smiled at the right moments, made thoughtful comments about trade negotiations, his voice steady and controlled when addressing the nobles.
But I saw the tension in his jaw, the way he gripped the stem of his goblet until I thought the crystal might shatter.
"Your Highness seems... preoccupied lately," Duke Aldric commented during the evening reception.
"Wedding preparations," Luka replied smoothly, his amber eyes never leaving my face. "There are many details to finalize."
"Of course," the Duke nodded. "Though I noticed some of the staff seem... on edge recently. Is everything well?"
"Perfectly well," Luka's smile was sharp as glass. "Just ensuring proper discipline is maintained. Standards must be upheld."
Lady Cordelia leaned closer to her companion. "Have you noticed how quiet the Fae have become? They barely speak anymore."
"Better that way," another noble replied. "They were getting too comfortable before."
The casual cruelty in their voices made my stomach turn. The lie came so easily from everyone that I almost believed it myself.
Almost forgot that there would be no wedding, no fairy tale ending, no happily ever after.
That night, I was summoned. Not asked, summoned, like a servant or a prisoner. Two guards appeared at my chamber door, their faces expressionless.
"Princess Penelope. His Highness requests your presence."
The word "requests" was purely ceremonial. This wasn't a request I could decline.
They escorted me through corridors I barely recognized, deeper into the palace than I'd ever been. We stopped at a heavy oak door reinforced with iron bands, the kind of door meant to keep things in, not out.
Luka waited inside the locked study, seated behind a massive desk like a judge preparing to deliver a sentence. Candles flickered in wall sconces, casting dancing shadows that made his familiar features look foreign, dangerous.
"Sit," he said without preamble.
I remained standing. "What do you want, Luka?"
His smile was cold. "I want to know if you've changed your mind."
"About what?"
"About us. About your duty. About the mistake you made when you chose a slave over a prince."
The casual cruelty in his voice made my stomach twist. This wasn't the man who'd spoken of partnership and shared dreams. This was someone else entirely.
"No," I said quietly. "I haven't changed my mind."
He backhanded me before I finished the sentence.
The blow sent me stumbling backward, my cheek exploding with pain. The guards didn't move, didn't even blink. They stood at attention as if nothing had happened.
Luka didn't apologize. Didn't show any sign of remorse or shock at what he'd done.
"You don't get to humiliate me," he said, his voice perfectly calm. "Not after everything I've given you. Everything I offered."
I straightened slowly, one hand pressed to my burning cheek. Blood from my split lip tasted copper and bitter on my tongue.
"I never asked for any of it."
"You took it anyway." He rose from his chair, moving around the desk with predatory grace. "The pendant, the status, the protection of my name. You wore them while you spread your legs for him."
The vulgarity of his words was shocking coming from the mouth that had once whispered poetry against my skin.
"You're confined to your chambers until further notice," he continued, as if discussing the weather. "No court appearances. No visitors. Especially not your Fae lover."
As the guards escorted me back through the darkened corridors, I saw movement in the courtyard below. Two Fae were being dragged across the stones by palace guards, their wings bound with iron chains. One was bloodied, barely conscious.
The other sobbed openly, the sound echoing off the walls like a death knell.
From a window above, Luka watched it all with the detached interest of someone observing an interesting play.
Later, alone in my chambers with the door locked from the outside, I pressed my fingers to my cheek and felt the bruise rising beneath the skin. The pain was sharp, immediate, but it wasn't the worst part.
The worst part was the realization settling in my chest like ice water. Luka wasn't in love with me, he never had been.
He was obsessed, possessive in the way a child was possessive of a favorite toy, not from love, but from the belief that ownership was the same thing.
If he was willing to strike me for defying him, what would he do to Kieran?