Theron's POV
Caius was going to kill Lysander right in front of me.
I watched my best knight—my broken, tortured friend—stride across the ballroom with his sword drawn and murder blazing in his green eyes. The crowd scattered like frightened birds, clearing a path straight to where Lysander stood frozen beside me.
Six years. Caius had suffered for six years because of what Lysander did to him during the war. Six months of torture that turned one of our best soldiers into a man who couldn't sleep without nightmares, who flinched at sudden movements, who sometimes stared at nothing with hollow eyes like his soul had left his body.
I should let Caius have his revenge. I should step aside and let him drive that sword through Lysander's heart.
But my body moved before my brain caught up.
I stepped between them, one hand raised. "Stand down, Sir Caius."
Caius stopped, his sword trembling in his grip. "Move aside, Your Highness. Please. I need this."
"I know what he did to you," I said quietly, keeping my voice calm even though my heart raced. "I know you have every right to want him dead. But not here. Not like this."
"Why not?" Caius's voice cracked with pain. "He didn't give me a choice when he tied me down and—" He stopped, breathing hard, his eyes shining with unshed tears. "Why does he get mercy when he showed me none?"
Behind me, I heard Lysander make a small, broken sound. I glanced back and saw him staring at Caius with horror written all over his face. Not the calculating look of someone whose plan was falling apart. Real, genuine horror like he was seeing the damage he'd caused for the first time.
Either Lysander had become the world's greatest actor overnight, or something fundamental had changed in him.
"He's my prisoner," I said firmly to Caius. "Which means his punishment is mine to decide. Not yours. Not anyone else's. Mine."
"Then execute him!" Caius shouted, his composure finally breaking. "Right now! Make him pay for what he did!"
The entire ballroom held its breath. Hundreds of nobles watched this confrontation, waiting to see what I'd do. Waiting to see if I'd finally give them the execution they all wanted to witness.
My mother's face flashed in my mind. Her screams. Her blood on the execution platform. All because of the man standing behind me.
I should say yes. I should let Caius have his revenge or order the execution myself.
But when I looked at Lysander—really looked at him—I didn't see the monster who destroyed my family. I saw a terrified man barely holding himself together, shaking like a leaf, tears streaming down his face as he stared at Caius with genuine remorse.
"No," I heard myself say.
Caius's eyes went wide with betrayal. "No? After everything he did? After he killed your mother, tortured me, destroyed dozens of lives? You're protecting him?"
"I'm not protecting him. I'm choosing when and how he pays for his crimes." I kept my voice hard and cold, projecting authority I didn't quite feel. "He kneeled in front of this entire court and offered complete submission. That's worth more to me than a quick death."
"Submission?" Caius laughed bitterly. "It's an act, Theron! Can't you see that? He's manipulating you like he manipulates everyone!"
Maybe. Probably. But something in my gut told me there was more to this than simple manipulation.
"If it's an act, I'll discover it," I said. "And when I do, his death will be slower and more painful than anything you could do with that sword. But until then, he's under my protection. Touch him, and you're defying a direct order from your crown prince."
Caius stared at me for a long moment, his sword still raised. I could see the war raging inside him—loyalty to me versus his desperate need for revenge.
Finally, his sword lowered. "Fine. He's yours." His voice turned cold. "But when you realize what a mistake you've made, remember I warned you."
He turned and stormed out of the ballroom, shoving nobles aside. The doors slammed behind him with a boom that echoed through the tense silence.
I turned back to Lysander. He looked like he might collapse. His face had gone completely pale and he swayed slightly on his feet.
"Thank you," he whispered. "You didn't have to—"
"Don't thank me," I cut him off sharply. "I didn't save you out of kindness. I saved you because I'm not done with you yet."
I grabbed his wrist and pulled him closer, lowering my voice so only he could hear. "You kneeled in front of my entire court and offered yourself to me. Do you understand what that means? What people will think?"
He nodded shakily. "I know. I meant every word."
"Did you?" I searched his face, looking for any crack in the mask. "Because the Lysander I knew would never kneel. Never submit. Never show weakness. So either you've changed completely, or this is the most elaborate trap you've ever set."
"I've changed," he said desperately. "I swear I've changed. I'm not that person anymore."
I wanted to believe him. That was the problem. Despite everything he'd done, despite my mother's death, despite Caius's broken mind—some part of me wanted to believe this broken, vulnerable man was genuine.
And that made me furious.
"Come to my private chambers tonight," I commanded, loud enough for nearby nobles to hear. "We'll discuss your... submission... in detail."
His eyes widened but he nodded. "Yes, Your Highness."
I released his wrist and stepped back, addressing the room. "The entertainment is over. Return to your festivities." I shot a warning look at the crowd. "And anyone who touches my prisoner will answer to me personally."
The music started up again slowly, conversations resuming in hushed whispers. But everyone kept glancing at us, speculation running wild.
As I walked away, I felt Lysander's eyes on my back. I also felt that strange heat in my chest again—something I couldn't quite name. Curiosity? Possessiveness? The twisted satisfaction of having my enemy completely at my mercy?
Whatever it was, it felt dangerous.
Six hours later, there was a soft knock on my chamber door.
"Enter," I called.
Lysander stepped inside, still looking terrified but trying to hide it. The guards closed the door behind him, leaving us alone.
He stood there awkwardly, like he didn't know what to do with his hands. "You wanted to see me?"
"I want answers." I poured myself wine, not offering him any. "You kneeled in front of my entire court. Offered yourself to me for 'whatever I desire.' Do you know how that sounded?"
He flushed slightly. "I know."
"Do you?" I took a drink, watching him over the rim of my glass. "Because it sounded like you were offering me more than just your life. It sounded like you were offering... everything."
The flush deepened. "I meant what I said. I'll do whatever you want. Whatever helps you heal from what I did."
I set down my glass and walked toward him slowly. He stood his ground but I could see him trembling. Good. He should be afraid.
"Anything?" I asked softly, stopping right in front of him.
"Anything," he whispered.
I reached out and touched his face gently, watching his reaction. His breath hitched but he didn't pull away. His skin was warm and soft under my fingers. His pulse raced in his throat.
"What if what I want is to see you broken the way Caius is broken?" I asked. "What if I want to hurt you until you beg for death?"
His eyes filled with tears but he didn't look away. "Then I'll accept that. I deserve it."
My hand moved to his throat, not squeezing, just resting there. He swallowed hard against my palm.
"Or," I continued, my voice dropping lower, "what if I want something else entirely? What if I want to keep you close? Own you? Make you depend on me for everything—your safety, your freedom, your very breath?"
Understanding dawned in his eyes, along with fear and something that might have been desire.
Before he could answer, my chamber door burst open.
A messenger stumbled in, bleeding from a wound in his side. "Your Highness! Urgent news!"
I released Lysander immediately. "What happened?"
"Attack on the western border," the messenger gasped. "Daelon Shreve—the assassin—he's here. In the capital. He's already killed three of Duke Corvith's former servants." The messenger's eyes locked on Lysander. "He says Duke Corvith murdered his twin sister. He's coming to the palace tonight to finish what he started two years ago. And he swore nothing will stop him from making the duke suffer before he dies."