"Get your hands off her, Kael. Now."
The voice was a razor blade across silk. Pure, unadulterated arrogance. I didn't need to look up to know the vibe.
Kael didn't flinch. His grip on the back of my neck tightened, his palm hot and heavy against my skin. A steady, dangerous pressure. He wasn't letting go.
"The Princess was just explaining her new... utility," Kael murmured. His voice vibrated right against my ear, low and rough.
"Utility?"
Lord Valerius stepped into the light. Midnight velvet. A smile that didn't touch his eyes. A snake in a fancy coat.
"She's a broken bird, Kael. A frequency-less waste of royal blood. Why waste your breath—or your touch—on something so useless?"
I tried to wrench away. *Stupid move.*
The mental limiter Kael had slapped on me pulsed. A sharp, electric sting shot through my temples, slamming me back against his chest. I gasped, my breath hitching in my throat.
"Careful, Sloane," Kael whispered, his lips almost brushing my earlobe. "The limiter doesn't like it when you struggle."
I glared at Valerius. He looked at me like I was a smudge on his boot. The power dynamic was crystal clear: I was the toy. The waste. And these two were just arguing over who got to break me first.
"I'm not a bird," I snapped, my voice raspy. "And I'm definitely not broken."
Valerius laughed—a dry, hacking sound. "Listen to her. Still playing pretend. Tell me, Princess, does it hurt? Knowing your own father would rather see you in a cage than on a throne?"
I didn't answer. I couldn't. I was too busy mapping the room. Valerius was shifting his weight to the left—he was anxious. Hiding something. Kael’s fingers were digging into my shoulder—not protecting me. Claiming me.
"Leave us," Kael commanded.
"The Regent wants a report by dawn," Valerius sneered, stepping back. "Don't get too attached to the pet, Kael. She's scheduled for 're-education' in forty-eight hours. If she hasn't proven her worth by then, she's gone."
Click. Click. Click. His boots echoed down the corridor like a countdown.
Silence hit the room, heavy and suffocating. Kael finally let go of my neck, but he didn't move away. He stepped in, pinning me between the cold stone wall and the heat of his body. I could smell cedar and something metallic. Blood. Or steel.
"Forty-eight hours," he murmured, his eyes scanning my face. "You heard him. You're on the clock."
"Is that supposed to scare me?" My heart was trying to kick its way out of my ribs. "I've dealt with worse deadlines."
*Slam.*
His hand hit the wall beside my head. I jumped.
"You don't get it. 'Re-education' isn't a classroom, Sloane. It's a frequency scrub. They'll rip your mind apart until there's nothing left but a blank slate. You won't even remember your own name."
I felt a chill run down my spine. A total mental wipe. For a strategist, that wasn't just death. It was erasure.
"So what now?" I whispered. "You're just gonna let them do it?"
"I don't care about your fate," he lied.
I heard the tremor in his voice. I felt his gaze linger on my lips a second too long.
"But I'm curious. No one wakes up from a coma and suddenly knows how to manipulate a High Guard. You're a glitch, Sloane. And I want to know why."
He reached into his jacket and pulled out a piece of parchment. A bounty list.
"Augustus is purging anyone with royal ties. Your name is at the top. Not as a princess, but as a fugitive. Ten thousand gold pieces for your head. Mostly dead."
I looked at the elegant, lethal calligraphy. *Sloane of House Valerius. Status: Traitor.*
"Great," I muttered. "I'm a celebrity."
"Stop joking," he growled. He grabbed my chin, forcing me up. His thumb brushed my lower lip—half-threat, half-caress. "You're a liability. The only reason you're still breathing is because I've tied your frequency to mine. If you run, the limiter fries your brain in three seconds. If I die, you die. We're locked in."
"A suicide pact. How romantic."
"It's not a pact. It's a leash."
He stepped back. The sudden loss of his warmth left me shivering.
"Get up. We're leaving. The guards