The Prince, the Rogue & the Reckoning

n's boots echoed on the marble floors as Cassian Ale led her through winding corridors.

ful, but impossible to ignore. Every time their eyes met, sparks

at his hand. She wasn't going to let

g me here?" she de

wants to see you. Apparently, she enjoys testing t

he's going to throw me i

to waste time on dungeons. She wants lever

eful? I stole a r

ou've got power inside you that even you don't underst

bout her like that-as if she were dangerous but didn't

ished floors that reflected every shadow. At the far end, on a raised dais, sat Queen Sele

e carried across the hall, cal

n following silently behind. Every instinct screamed at her to run, but she

e warmth in his gaze softened the fear in her chest. But that warmt

orn," she said. "Too clever for your own good. You stole from the wrong p

er chin. "So.

emain in my palace. You will obey, train, and learn. In excha

e wanted to spit, but before she could,

Just don't make it hard

. Not once. Not even when the Queen's eyes

By Prince Aerion and Cassian Ale. Together, t

isted. "What come

ened. "That, Thorn, i

he training chambers, his expression unreadable.

t over," Lyra said,

And neither is this," he replied, tapping the dagger at his hip

ress. Fear. Excitement. Anger. All t

... it's more than a trinket. It has chosen

skipped. "Pow

about your age, your excuses, or how clever you

, to run, to throw herself into the streets. But there was no escaping now.

t you?" she asked. "Are you going to help me,

ng she couldn't name. "I'll make sure you survive," he

er eyes. "Of

d she felt heat crawl up her neck despite he

e every word, every glance, every brush of his arm reminded her that she w

it the prince he was supposed to be. He watched her with intensi

understand... this isn't just about training. This is about survival, about cont

him, heart thu

e of those choices... wi

You've got two options, Thorn," he said, voice dripping w

ngled in a way she'd never experienced. She had survived the streets,

hand, stopping just short. "Trust me," he w

g the exchange with a possessive

ould ever be simple again. Not the relic. N

attle. Every glance, every word

e knew-this was o

oning ha