The evening passed in a haze of uncertainty, but the royal gardens' festivities had barely ended before the wheels of intrigue began to turn in Gabriel's mind.
In his dimly lit chamber, Gabriel paced back and forth, his mind racing with fury. His jaw clenched in frustration, his fist slamming against the wooden table with enough force to rattle the glasses on it. His servant, standing awkwardly near the door, took a cautious step back as Gabriel's anger erupted.
"Damn it!" Gabriel spat, his voice laced with frustration. "You gave her a low dose, nothing that would cause immediate harm. But why isn't it working faster? Why hasn't she shown any sign of being affected?"
The servant, his face pale with uncertainty, stood silently, his mouth sealed in confusion. He had only followed Gabriel's instructions, but the fact that Sophia had walked through the entire evening with no sign of being intoxicated, no visible signs of distress, was bewildering.
"She's not a common woman," Gabriel continued bitterly, his eyes flicking to the dark corners of his chamber. "She's too.... composed."
The knight standing at the door gave a small, wary bow before Gabriel's voice snapped at him. "Bring two women to my chambers tonight. I need to forget this damnable situation for a while."
The knight hesitated, knowing well the prince's moods and how they could shift like a violent storm, but he nodded quickly, stepping back into the corridor.
Meanwhile, far from Gabriel's rage, Sophia stood in her own room, the air charged with its own kind of tension.
Her handmaidens had left quietly, each of them bowing out as expected. The door clicked shut with a soft finality, leaving her alone with Alexander, the prince's loyal knight Damien standing just outside, waiting with an air of quiet vigilance.
Sophia settled herself in the armchair opposite Alexander, who had been wheeled into the room with the help of Damien. The prince, despite his silent stoicism, was more alert than usual, his sharp gaze following every movement Sophia made.
The tension in the air was palpable as the flickering candlelight cast shadows along the walls. Sophia cleared her throat softly, preparing to speak.
"Your Highness," she began, her voice calm, but there was a subtle undertone of caution in her words. "I must speak of something that occurred at the ball tonight."
Alexander's gray eyes met hers with a flicker of curiosity, his posture never changing, though his thoughts were already swirling.
What is she going to say? Why does it feel like she's more in control of this conversation than I am?
Sophia continued, unaware of the tempest in his mind. "It concerns Crown Prince Gabriel. I couldn't ignore his behavior...his eyes, his mannerisms. He looked at me as though I were prey, something to be claimed, and I've learned enough in my time to recognize such intent. He… he made me feel as though I were the target of something more than just a passing glance."
Alexander's expression tightened, but he said nothing. His eyes narrowed slightly, his thoughts once again full of questions.
Gabriel. I should have known better. But how did she see through him so easily?
Sophia paused, taking a deep breath before continuing. "When he approached his servant to speak with him, I knew then that there was more to it than a casual greeting. The way he passed something, the way his servant's eyes flicked to me....it all felt calculated."
Her gaze was steady, but her voice trembled slightly as she spoke the next words, the weight of them heavy in the room.
"I thought it best to prepare myself. I kept the antidote with me, just in case."
Alexander stiffened at her words, the flickering candlelight dancing across his thoughtful features. His mind raced as the truth of her actions sank in. She had been prepared.... prepared for something that neither he nor anyone else had suspected.
Antidote? How did she know? How did she… anticipate this so thoroughly?
"I took the antidote in the gardens, just before I saw him make his move," Sophia explained quietly, her eyes searching his face for a reaction. "But the drug was powerful. The symptoms are still lingering in my body even now. I only wish I had been more thorough."
Alexander's gaze softened with an emotion he couldn't quite place. He wanted to be angry...angry that someone had tried to harm his wife but at the same time, he was inexplicably grateful for her foresight. She had been more than just vigilant. She had been precise, deliberate.
She's prepared for everything. She was ready before I even knew what was happening. But why?
"Sophia…" Alexander's voice broke through his thoughts, soft yet filled with something almost… admiring. "You've thought this through, haven't you? Every little detail, every possible danger. You were waiting for it."
Sophia met his eyes, a faint flush creeping up her neck at the unexpected compliment. She had been waiting for this acknowledgment, but the way it made her feel unsettled her. She had expected him to be angry, maybe even upset that she had kept secrets from him. Instead, he seemed… impressed.
"I only did what I thought was best for both of us, Your Highness," she said softly, the vulnerability she felt hiding beneath her composed facade. "I couldn't just wait and see if something happened. I had to be prepared."
Alexander's mind raced, torn between admiration and a gnawing suspicion that he didn't fully understand. Why did he feel this unsettling pride in her ability to anticipate danger? Why did her preparedness make him feel… strange?
Is it because she's not just playing the part of a consort? No, it's more than that. She's thinking ahead...always thinking ahead.
His voice came out quietly, almost reluctantly. "Sophia, you said you're still feeling the symptoms of the drug. Do you need my help? Or perhaps the healer's?"
Sophia hesitated, her thoughts swirling as she considered the question. Alexander's concern was genuine, she could tell, but it also unsettled her.
She didn't want to trust the palace healers, not with this secret, not when she could already sense the venom of the Royals lurking behind painted smiles. And yet, she also knew she needed something, someone, to anchor her through the fire still burning within her veins. Her gaze flickered to Alexander. She was his wife now. Did she not have the right to lean on him? To seek him, not as a patient, not as a burden, but as the man bound to her?
But no....if she spoke that truth aloud, if she let him see the raw hunger the drug had left in her body, what would he think of her? That she was some shameless woman, unable to restrain herself? Their bond had not crossed that threshold yet, and she would not let necessity tarnish what had not yet bloomed.
"I'm fine, Your Highness," she said instead, her voice even, though it felt like she swallowed shards of glass. "The antidote helped, but the symptoms linger. With rest, they'll fade."
Alexander's eyes sharpened, unyielding, as though he sought to strip the truth from her with sheer will. His thoughts grew restless, grumbling in that private corner of his mind she could not ignore.
Of course, she says she's fine. Why would she ever want help from me? A cripple.... what could I possibly offer her, when she burns like that?
Her breath hitched. The sting of his self-condemnation cut deeper than her own restraint. Before she could stop herself, words tumbled out, soft but urgent.
"That's not it," she blurted, her composure faltering for the first time. Her cheeks heated, though her eyes remained locked on his. "It isn't that I don't see you as capable. It's because I don't want… if something ever were to happen between us, I wouldn't want it born of obligation. I wouldn't want you to feel as though you had to extinguish a fire in me, rather than…"
She trailed off, realizing how dangerously close she stood to unraveling. But her meaning lingered in the charged silence, undeniable.
Alexander's gray eyes darkened, his thoughts twisting into something more complex, may be surprise, admiration, and something heavier he did not name.
She thinks of that? Of us, in that way? Not obligation… but choice?
The corner of his mouth twitched before settling back into stoicism, but within, a quiet respect bloomed, unexpected and unsettling.
For the first time that night, Sophia found herself breathless, not from the drug, but from the weight of his gaze.