Chapter 3 Take Me With You

Ophelia

Leaving the great hall felt like breaking the surface of water after too long below.

The garden received us in silence.

Moonlight traced the edges of every leaf in silver, and the night-blooming jasmine drifted through the air in soft waves--threading through the wilder scent of him, combining into something that made my thoughts go pleasantly, dangerously loose.

We walked without speaking.

Our footsteps fell quietly on the cobblestone path, and I was acutely, helplessly aware of him beside me--the height of him, the warmth radiating from his frame, the way the air shifted slightly whenever our arms brushed.

Each accidental touch sent that strange current through me again, the one I still had no name for.

He stopped when we reached a clearing where the path widened.

Moonlight fell directly between us, rendering him in sharp relief against the dark.

Those amber eyes caught the light the way a predator's do--luminous, alert, missing nothing.

"Princess." His voice was unhurried. "What do you think of me? Are you... satisfied with what you see?"

The question landed like a stone dropped into still water.

I had spent the entire walk preparing myself--for questions about political alliances, about my value as a gesture of goodwill, about what would be expected of me.

I had answers ready for all of those.

I had no answer for this.

Are you satisfied with what you see?

As though my opinion were a thing that existed. As though this were not a transaction but something else entirely--something closer to a courtship.

"I —" The words wouldn't come.

He seemed to read my confusion without any difficulty.

Something shifted in his expression--not quite a smile, but the suggestion of one, and warmer than I would have expected from him.

"When your father's envoy arrived with the proposal," he said, "my people and I refused it. Immediately."

My stomach dropped.

Of course. Of course no one had wanted this.

I was a diplomatic offering, a piece moved across a board by other hands.

Whatever foolish, unguarded thing I had felt in that hall —

"But?" I managed, keeping my voice even despite the way it wanted to shake.

He took one step closer. In the moonlight, his eyes were extraordinary.

"But the moment I saw you tonight..." He paused. "I found myself grateful I'd come. I am still grateful."

There was something underneath the words that I couldn't quite categorize.

A warmth that felt unperformed. A frankness that had no use for flattery because it didn't need it.

Heat rose to my face. Something loosened in my chest--a feeling so unfamiliar I almost didn't trust it.

This man--this powerful, dangerous, entirely inhuman man--wasn't here for a treaty. Wasn't here to collect a diplomatic prize.

He was here because of me?

I looked up and met his eyes. Directly. Without flinching, without dropping my gaze on reflex, without any of the trained submission that had governed every interaction of my life.

"Thank you," I said. "I find you quite impressive yourself."

No artifice. No performance. Just the truth, stated plainly, because in this moment I understood for the first time what it felt like to be chosen rather than allocated.

Something flickered in his expression--surprise, and then a sharper attention, as though I had suddenly become more interesting.

"Then will you come with me?" he asked. "Leave with me. Will you marry me?"

I had imagined many versions of this moment over the years. None of them had sounded like a question.

Not an order. Not a recitation of terms. A question--a real one, with a real answer expected.

I opened my mouth.

The words wouldn't come.

Too many things were rising at once--disbelief, hope, fear, a joy so unfamiliar it almost felt like grief for all the years I hadn't had it.

"I'd say that's a yes." He reached his own conclusion, his tone edged with quiet satisfaction.

The warmth evaporated.

I turned my head sharply, and something that had been buried since childhood came surging up through years of careful suppression--a stubbornness I had almost forgotten I possessed.

"I have conditions," I said.

My chin lifted of its own accord.

His expression shifted--surprise giving way to something that looked, unmistakably, like admiration. A low sound escaped him, somewhere between a laugh and an exhale.

"You're not nearly as obedient as your father led me to believe."

"Do you want to hear them or not?"

"Please." He straightened, and when he spoke again, his voice had lost all trace of amusement.

He was serious now, entirely present. "I would do whatever you asked. Burn this place to the ground, if that's what you wanted."

Burn this place to the ground.

Something in me warmed at that--more than it should have.

The image was honestly not without appeal. But that wasn't the point.

"I want you to take me away tonight," I said. "AS SOON AS POSSIBLE."

I could already see my father's calculations running--the grand wedding he would orchestrate, the foreign dignitaries invited to witness the historic union of human and wolf, the way he would position himself at the center of it all, the benevolent architect of peace.

My marriage turned into a spectacle, and me turned back into a prop.

If I stayed long enough for that to happen, I would lose whatever ground I'd just gained.

I would be managed and arranged and handed over on his terms, not mine.

Tonight was the only door. I could already feel it beginning to close.

Alric's eyes sharpened.

He understood--I could see it happening in real time, the quick intelligence behind those amber eyes assembling the pieces. He said nothing for a moment.

Then he stepped forward.

Close enough that his scent wrapped around me completely, the same thing that had undone my composure in the hall, now even more immediate, more disorienting.

My breath came faster.

"That's simple enough." His voice dropped lower. "But tell me--what do I get?"

His gaze drifted, briefly, to my mouth.

I had nothing to offer him.

No gold, no land, no political leverage. I had been stripped of everything useful a long time ago.

I had only myself.

Before I could think about it long enough to lose my nerve, I stepped into the space between us, rose up slightly, and pressed my lips to his.

It lasted only a moment--the lightest, most tentative thing--but it moved through me like a struck bell, resonating in places I hadn't known could ring.

I pulled back. My face was on fire.

"Is that enough?" I asked.

His pupils had blown wide. Something had ignited behind his eyes--something ancient and unguarded and scorchingly intent.

Then his hand came up, curving around the back of my head, and he kissed me back.

There was nothing tentative about it.

It was a claim. A promise. An answer so unambiguous that it required no translation across the distance between our kinds.

He kissed me like a man who had decided something and was done deliberating, and I kissed him back like a woman discovering, for the first time, that her mouth had ever been her own.

When we finally separated, we were both breathing hard.

I looked up at him in the moonlight, and I understood with perfect clarity that something had shifted--not just between us, but in the shape of my life going forward.

I had chosen him.

He had chosen me.

And by morning, I would be gone from this place. Gain freedom.