The meeting still burns in his mind as King Steffen storms down the dim corridor, boots striking the marble like thunder. The guards at his door straighten immediately, but one look from him sends them retreating without a word.
He pushes the door open.And there she is ,his mystery mate , halfway over the balcony railing, a makeshift rope of torn sheets dangling in the wind.
"Where do you think you're going?"
His voice hits like a gust of cold air. Power ripples outward, and the floor trembles beneath her bare feet. In an instant, frost blooms around her ankles, locking her in place.
She freezes, literally.
Her wide eyes dart toward him. A wary smile tugs at her lips, all nerves and forced charm. "Uh... sightseeing?"
Steffen doesn't answer. His gaze cuts through her like a blade.
"Were you escaping?"
Of course she was. Every inch of her expression screams guilt.
Perfect, she thinks bitterly. Minutes of genius gone to waste. She'd knotted those sheets with surgical precision, tested their strength twice, even calculated wind resistance. And now? Foiled by the world's grumpiest ice king.
"Mm," she sighs, exasperated. "Figures."
She folds her arms. "Listen, buddy, as much as I'm loving the five-star treatment, I'd love to be free of it too. Look, I'm not royal material. I don't do crowns, I don't do cages. Clearly, someone made a cosmic error, and I'd like out before the refund expires."
Steffen's jaw tightens. "Buddy?"
She grins. "Too informal for your majesty?"
Before she can plant her foot on the railing again, he crosses the room in a blur of motion. The air chills. A hand grips her arm, firm but controlled, and suddenly her feet are off the ground.
He lifts her with one hand as easily as if she weighs nothing.
"You're going nowhere," he says, voice low, dangerous. "Not until I know who you are, and how you carry my mark. Until then, this is your home."
Her heart slams in her chest. She hates the way her pulse reacts to his nearness, the heat that rises in defiance of his cold. She scowls, shoving against his chest once he sets her down.
"Who do you think you are? My jailer? My dad?" She glares up at him. "You may terrify everyone in this ice castle, but not me. I'm not your subject, and I sure as hell don't take orders."
She storms toward the door, spine straight, chin high.
Enough sneaking, she thinks. If I'm going to escape, I'll do it through the front, bold and loud.
"Don't take another step toward that door," he warns.
His tone sends a shiver up her spine, but her pride keeps her moving. Her fingers brush the doorknob.
Then, his hand.
A single, swift motion. He grabs her shoulder and spins her back, sending her crashing onto the bed. The mattress dips under her weight; her breath catches, both in fury and shock.
He looms over her, every inch of him carved from power and restraint. His eyes, storm-dark and ancient, search hers, not with lust, but with something far more dangerous. Recognition.
For a heartbeat, neither speaks. The air between them hums, frozen and alive.
"Try that again," he says softly, "and I won't be gentle."
She glares, chest heaving. "Then you better keep freezing me, Your Majesty. Because the moment you stop, I'm gone."
A ghost of a smile flickers across his face. "We'll see."
He turns and strides for the door, his command echoing as he leaves:
"Guard the room. She doesn't take a single step beyond this door."
When the latch clicks shut, Ella exhales, eyes darting to the balcony again.
The sheets still flutter in the night wind.
And this time, she's already planning her next move.
At another end of the castle, Steffen welcomed in John who seem to have question to feed.
"It makes no sense," John mutters, pacing near the desk. "How the hell did your mark end up on her? How is that even possible?"
Steffen doesn't answer. His gaze stays fixed on the security feed, on the girl pacing her new quarters like a trapped cat. Clearly, the guards aren't as good at keeping her in as he ordered. Her presence unsettles something in him he doesn't dare name.
John shakes his head, still processing. "I mean, I tried to be rational. Thought maybe you marked her by mistake, drunken night, one too many drinks, maybe a one-night stand gone wrong..." He trails off, then huffs. "But a birthmark? You're telling me she was born with it?"
Steffen's silence says enough.
John drags a hand through his hair. "Unbelievable. I've seen weird, but this, this is another level." He sighs, finally dropping into the chair opposite the desk. "Honestly, I wish I could help. But I can't. You, on the other hand" his lips curve into a smirk, "you owe me."
Steffen's gaze sharpens. "On what account?"
"The bill," John replies easily. "For the glass she shattered. My alarm system. Oh, and my pride. Pretty sure that one's non-refundable."
Ignoring him, Steffen reaches into a drawer and pulls out a small black checkbook. He scrawls a number, tears the slip, and hands it over without lifting his eyes from the screen.
John glances down, and nearly chokes. "Whoa, are you serious? I can't rob you like this."
"If you don't want it, donate it to charity," Steffen replies evenly, flipping to another camera feed.
John chuckles. "Nah, wouldn't want to insult His Majesty's generosity." Then, sobering a little, he adds, "You should probably run a background check on her. The mark, the stone, her survival, it all points to something more."
Steffen pauses mid-motion. A background check.
Of course. He should have thought of that already.
John studies him. "And... what are you planning to do with her?"
Steffen's jaw tightens. "Keep her."
John arches a brow. "Keep her?"
"For now," he clarifies, voice flat. "Until I know what she is, and why she bears my mark. After that, she's gone."
John exhales, eyes dropping to the floor. "Right. For now."
Before Steffen can respond, the office door bursts open.
A loud thud.
Ella stumbles in, landing awkwardly on one knee before scrambling to her feet.
"Hello," she says with a nervous grin, brushing imaginary dust from her clothes. "Just,uh, passing through."
John blinks. "Is she supposed to be here?"
"Apparently not," Steffen mutters.
Ella offers a bright, too-innocent smile. "Don't mind me. I'm invisible. Carry on." She gestures vaguely toward the desk, inching backward toward the door.
Steffen steps into her path before she reaches it.
"Umm... the door?" she asks, pointing, still pretending not to notice his glare.
He doesn't move. His presence fills the room, calm, controlled, dangerous.
"You should continue," she says sweetly, lips curving into a pout. "Don't let me be a bug."
His eyes flicker to her mouth before he can stop himself. For a heartbeat, the world narrows, her voice fades, his chest tightens, and that strange, burning ache returns beneath his ribs. He drags a hand over his heart, unsettled.
"Freeze," he says sharply.
She stiffens mid-step, eyes wide. "Seriously? Again?"
"Why are you here," he demands, his tone like ice, "and what did you hear?"
"Sleepwalking," she says lightly, walking in exaggerated circles, eyes closed and arms stretched out like a child pretending to be a ghost.
"Cut the act."
Her eyes snap open, and with a sheepish smile she steps back. "Fine. I was... looking for the kitchen?"
John bursts into laughter, nearly doubling over. "Oh, she's good."
Steffen doesn't share the humor. His attention sharpens, every sense locking onto her.
"Hold on," he says slowly. "How the hell are you talking?"
His mind flashes back to earlier, to the spell he cast, sealing her voice shut. That charm was unbreakable. Not even the oldest witches could undo it once it bound. Yet here she stands, lips moving freely, sarcasm dripping from every word.
Impossible.
"How?" His voice drops to a low growl as he strides toward her, the floor vibrating faintly beneath his steps. "How are you doing this?"
She backs away, instinctively shrinking under the weight of his glare. If she's truly human, breaking his magic should be impossible, unless she's lying. Unless she's something else entirely.
His golden eyes darken, molten light bleeding into black. The sight makes John leap to his feet.
"Hey, hey, let's all calm down," John says quickly, stepping between them. "your majesty , breathe. You're scaring her."
He turns to Ella. "Can you tell us how you undid whatever he did to you?"
"I... I just did," she whispers, her own disbelief mirroring theirs.
John blinks, glancing between them. "Just... did?"
Steffen's expression doesn't change, but inside, unease coils tighter. She's lying—or she's something beyond his understanding. A spy? A threat? Or worse... fate's joke at his expense.
"How did you do it?" he growls, closing the last inch of space between them. His hands plant firmly on either side of the chair, caging her in. "Tell me, girl—how did you undo my spell?"
"I don't know!" she blurts, voice trembling but clear. Her eyes meet his, defiant even through fear. "If you think I'm lying, then use your witchcraft or whatever to find out!"
For a long, dangerous heartbeat, he stares into her. Power hums faintly between them, brushing across his senses like static. He can feel her pulse, steady, honest.
She's telling the truth.
His grip loosens. The fury draining from his body leaves something heavier in its place, confusion. Instinct. Want.
"Go," he mutters, stepping back.
Her breath comes fast and shallow as she clutches her wrist where he held her. "Gladly," she hisses under her breath.
Despite his earlier threats, something in him holds back. Every harsh word he throws at her only fuels the raging conflict within him. His mind screams to end her, but his beast won't allow it. It wants her. It recognizes her.
And that realization cuts deeper than any blade.
Ella wastes no time. The moment he moves, she bolts for the door, muttering a string of curses that sound far too creative for a prisoner.
"Heartless!" she spits as she storms away.
The word echoes behind her, sharp as glass.
Then, her scream.
It happens too fast. Her foot catches the third stair, her body pitching forward. She crashes hard onto the marble floor.
"Your Highness!" Abi gasps, dropping her duster as she hurries to Ella's side. Blood wells from a scrape on Ella's arm. She groans, clutching her elbow as Abi helps her upright and guides her to the sofa.
Before either woman can react, a cold shadow falls across them.
Steffen stands there, silent, gaze locked on the thin trail of blood running down her skin. Something dark flickers in his eyes, anger, instinct, something primal.
"How did this happen?" he asks, his voice suddenly controlled, almost soft.
Ella scoffs. Unbelievable.
A moment ago, he'd nearly crushed her; now he's pretending to care?
"Her Highness was absent-minded and lost her footing," Abi explains quickly, bowing her head.
Ella rolls her eyes. Absent-minded? No, busy-minded. There's a difference.
Falling down stairs wasn't part of the escape plan, but it did feel like something fate would do just to mock her.
"Take her to her chamber," Steffen orders, his voice clipped and authoritative. "Have Lenda tend to her wounds."
Abi nods immediately and begins to help Ella up, but before they can move, John's sharp voice cuts in.
"You're hurt too."
Steffen glances over, frowning. "What?"
John gestures toward his arm. A streak of crimson stains the sleeve of his shirt, spreading from a small gash near his elbow.
For a brief moment, confusion flashes across Steffen's face, until understanding follows, cold and unwelcome.
The pain he'd felt moments ago in his office, sharp, sudden, inexplicable
It hadn't been his.
It had been hers.
John's eyes widen, realization dawning. The cut is nearly identical.
"This isn't a normal bond," John states cautiously.
Steffen's jaw clenches.
"It's time to call Balu."
John's expression darkens. The situation is far more complicated than he'd imagined.