I continued, my voice calm but laced with tension.
"They're so eager to help because someone from the county tampered with the health of their vice leader. She was poisoned. When I stepped in to save her, they swore loyalty in return. They promised to support me… and with that support, we now have enough leverage to finally pressure the Count."
I paused.
"But… there's a condition."
Wellesley's eyes narrowed. Her voice trembled—not from fear, but from fury.
"Your Highness, do you even realize what you've agreed to?" she asked sharply. "How could you even entertain such a demand? You saved them, and they dare to place conditions on you? If it was about the Count, you should have come to me. I would've handled everything. You don't need anyone else. You never have."
Her voice cracked like lightning—sharp, searing.
"And those barbarians… how dare they try to manipulate you? I'll end them all, every last one of them!"
Her anger wasn't just evident in her words—it radiated from her. The room felt colder, as if her rage was pulling the warmth from the very air around us. But beyond her fury, I saw something deeper in her gaze. Something far more dangerous.
Madness.
A quiet, suffocating madness born not of chaos—but of devotion.
Before I could grasp the depth of her emotion, the Prince's voice broke into my thoughts.
> "That's what fury looks like when someone dares take advantage of the royal family. The only one who doesn't understand the value of your blood, Christopher… is you."
I rolled my eyes at his arrogance, then spoke out loud—not to him, but to the memory he represented.
"How noble of you to suddenly care," I said mockingly. "This coming from the same prince who kept her at arm's length for years… all because she was a commoner."
I glanced at Wellesley.
"And now? Now you admire how fiercely she protects you. I bet you're even proud—thinking what a fine follower she turned out to be. Loyal to the end."
Silence. The Prince retreated.
But I had someone more important to calm.
I turned to Wellesley and gently placed my hands on her cheeks. Her skin was cold—tight with tension. I tilted her face toward mine and met her stormy gaze.
"Wellesley," I whispered, my voice softer now, "when did you start getting so angry?"
She blinked, startled by the gentleness in my tone.
"You used to be the one who calmed me down. Don't you remember? You once told me, 'If we kill everyone, who'll be left to run the kingdom?' And now look at you…"
Her expression shifted, her anger faltering as her eyes widened in quiet realization. She lowered her gaze, shame washing over her face like a slow tide.
"I… I'm sorry, Your Highness," she murmured. "I lost control. I should have known better."
A soft chuckle escaped my lips.
"No," I said, lifting her chin again until her eyes met mine. "I'm actually glad you were angry. For me. It means something."
Her eyes searched mine, slowly steadying.
"But," I continued, "we're getting off track. That's not why I called you here today."
She straightened her posture, immediately alert.
"I needed to talk to you about something important," I said, "about the condition the clan leader insisted on. Over and over."
"What did they ask for?" she asked, quieter now. "Didn't your blood boil at their audacity? And what could be so important that you had to call me here in person?"
I hesitated, the corner of my lips curling into a hollow smile.
"I was furious," I admitted. "Blindingly so. I wanted to level their tents, to flood their deserts with blood. I wanted to destroy everything they stood for."
Her eyes widened.
"They asked me to marry a girl from their clan," I said. "A simple enough demand, on the surface. One I could've refused. But something about it… enraged me."
I paused, my gaze growing distant.
"And I couldn't understand why. Why did that request feel like a personal betrayal? Why did it hurt more than it should have?"
Then I met her eyes again.
"Was it just because some nameless tribe dared to dictate terms to a royal… or was it because he asked for my hand, when I had already given everything I had—to someone else?"
> "That was smooth," the Prince's voice drawled in the back of my mind. "You really do have a talent for making women fall for you."
I ignored him.
Wellesley stared at me, eyes wide, lips parted, stunned into silence.
I didn't let her look away. I didn't hide the love in my eyes this time. I wanted her to see it—truly see it.
"Wellesley," I said, my voice low and unwavering, "I want to marry you."
She drew in a breath, but I pressed on.
"I want to make you mine—before anyone else can claim a part of me. I may be forced into obligations, sacrifices, maybe even alliances I don't want… but if I ever belong to someone, I want it to be you."
I stepped closer, took her hand, and placed it over my heart.
"So I ask you," I said, softly, "not as your prince… but as the man who's standing here—just me. Will you marry me?"