ログインMaximillian Ever since the day I met Edwina, my imagination had betrayed me more times than I could count. I had pictured her in dresses—dozens of them, maybe hundreds. In every color, every style. And in nearly every one of those daydreams, things never stayed proper for very long. One moment she’d be standing there in some beautiful dress, and the next… well, the dress would end up somewhere else entirely. Draped over a chair. Hanging off a lamp. Tossed carelessly onto the floor wherever I imagined myself throwing it in a moment of reckless desire.But standing there that morning, watching reality unfold before me, I realized something immediately.My fantasies had been embarrassingly inadequate. Because nothing—absolutely nothing—had prepared me for the sight of Edwina actually wearing a dress.My jaw quite literally went slack as she appeared at the top of the staircase and began walking down toward us.The dress was sky blue tulle, light and delicate, the hem stopping just at
Edwina “Hey babe.” Max’s voice carried easily across the quiet backyard as he walked toward the pool. I barely turned my head. My feet drifted lazily beneath the cool water, sending small ripples across the surface while the late afternoon sun warmed my shoulders.“What’s up, boo?” I replied, my tone flat.Truthfully, I wasn’t in the mood for whatever energy he was about to bring. Max rarely approached with that bright tone unless he had something brewing.“No need to sound so bored, darling.” He flashed that infuriatingly charming grin as he lowered himself beside me, turning so he faced me fully. “I’ve got good news.”Good news.I slowly turned my head to look at him, studying the almost suspicious brightness in his expression.Really? I thought. Since when does good news come with that kind of smile?“Really?” I asked aloud.Something in my chest tightened with a faint sense of dread. I had a feeling I wouldn’t enjoy whatever came next.“So…” Max dragged the word out slightly. “M
The night had grown quiet around them, the kind of quiet that made every small sound feel magnified—the rustle of leaves, the distant chirp of crickets, the slow rhythm of breathing.There was an old Mexican lullaby Julian remembered from childhood, one his great-grandmother Bianca used to sing whenever she wanted to put the children to sleep. Back then, she would sit in the old rocking chair with a shawl wrapped around her shoulders, her voice soft and worn with age as she sang to them long after they had fallen asleep.Julian hadn’t understood the words very well when he was little, but he had loved the melody. His grandfather, Andrei, had taught it to him properly years later, explaining the meaning behind each verse.And now, sitting beside Esther beneath the open sky, it was the first thing that came to his mind.So he sang.His voice was quiet, barely above a murmur, the tune flowing gently through the cool night air. It felt strangely intimate singing it to someone else now.
Esther quietly discarded the bottle in the bin and turned off the kitchen lights. The soft glow disappeared, leaving the room in darkness before she gently closed the door behind her.For a moment she stood in the quiet hallway, listening to the house breathe in the stillness of the night. Then she walked into the living room to wait.Her fingers fidgeted with the edge of her sleeve as she glanced toward the staircase where Julian had disappeared.You’re really doing this, she thought nervously. Sitting outside in the middle of the night with a prince.The thought alone made her stomach flutter.A few seconds later, Julian returned carrying a thick blanket. His steps slowed slightly when he saw her standing there patiently, looking smaller somehow in the dim lamplight.For reasons he couldn’t quite explain, the sight tugged gently at something inside him. Without saying much, he stepped closer and draped the blanket carefully around her shoulders.His fingers brushed lightly against h
Esther discovered very quickly that sleep was not going to come to her that night. She lay on her back staring at the ceiling, the sheets tangled around her legs, the darkness of the room pressing in on her like a quiet accusation.Her body was exhausted, but her mind refused to settle. Every time she closed her eyes, something inside her tightened, as though her mind was bracing for something it knew was coming.It was no surprise, really. Anyone who had gone through what she had would have trouble sleeping. At least… that’s what she told herself. But then another thought crept in, unwelcome and sharp.Maybe not anyone.Her mind drifted to Edwina.Edwina wouldn’t be lying here like this, she thought bitterly. Edwina had always been stronger—bolder, fiercer. The kind of woman who would fight like hell before letting anyone trap her in fear.Esther swallowed. Edwina would have fought back. Her chest tightened. She wouldn’t have frozen like I did.The thought burned.Throwing the cover
EdwinaSeated beside me was Max — my Max. The man I loved. The Crown Prince of Mercia. Even tied up, even angry, he carried himself like royalty. Standing behind a pale, trembling Miranda was another version of him — stone-faced, armed, buzz cut, colder. If I hadn’t known better, I would have sworn they were the same man split into two bodies. The only real difference was their eyes. My Max had gray eyes — stormy, thoughtful, soft when he looked at me. His brother’s eyes were brown. Deep brown. The color of dark chocolate, warm but unreadable. Max had shown me photos of his family once, laughing as he flipped through them. I’d remember thinking then how absurd it was that one family could hoard that much beauty, that much presence, that much power in their genes alone.And now here they were — flesh and blood and dangerous.“Untie them,” Julian ordered.The ropes fell away from my wrists so suddenly it almost felt unreal. Before I could even process the sting of returning circulatio
Maximillian George didn’t inform my father about the incident—maybe because he was scared of what Dad would do to him. Still, I knew he wouldn’t be able to hide it for long. News like that always found its way home. Sure enough, Dad heard about it. He called, said a few sharp words over the phone
Maximillian Two weeks later“Wake up, Max.”I jerked awake, my body thrashing as though escaping from unseen hands dragging me down. The dream slipped away like smoke, but the echo of it clung to me. Before I could even take a full breath, pain tore through my chest—white-hot, searing, like someon
Maximillian I couldn’t sleep. No matter how I tossed and turned, my mind refused to shut down. Maybe it was the silence of the house—it was so quiet it almost felt alive, pressing against me like it wanted to suffocate me. The air itself felt too heavy, too sharp to breathe. I gave up on rest, sl
Edwina The news about the attack on Max earlier this morning spread like wildfire, each telling more dramatic than the last. Some whispered that he had been gravely injured defending himself against intruders, while others claimed he was on his deathbed. Deathbed. The word alone made my stomach t







