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50 The Ultimatum
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2025-10-29 20:50:52
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Tempting the Wrong Prince 117 The Script Broke in Daylight
Arden’s POVNala walked out of the corridor behind me wearing a pale sleeping robe, the fabric soft and flowing, cinched at the waist as though she’d woken and thrown it on in modest haste. Her hair was loose and artfully disordered, as if she’d spent the night in a bed she belonged in. Her face was bare enough to look innocent, but her lips held a tint of colour that hadn’t happened by accident.She moved like someone who belonged there.Like someone who had been invited.Like someone who owned the place.The performance was meticulous. The robe, the hair, the timing, appearing exactly when my father asked for her, as if summoned by the script.The palace liked scripts.Nala loved them.My father… my father depended on them.She walked straight up to us with a soft smile and looped her arm through mine before greeting the King and her uncle.My jaw tightened.I did not pull away immediately.Not because I accepted it, but because I was watching my father’s reaction.His shoulders rel
Tempting the Wrong Prince 116 The Morning He Thought He’d Won
Arden’s POVI knew my father thought he had won the moment he saw me come down the stairs.It wasn’t subtle.It was written into the way he stood at the base of the marble steps like a man waiting for applause, one hand resting lightly on the carved bannister as though the palace itself belonged to his palm, the other tucked behind his back in that practised posture of regal patience.The morning sun poured through the tall windows behind him, turning the marble floor into a pale mirror and throwing a halo of light around his silhouette. It should have made him look noble.Instead, it made him look theatrical.And my father loved theatre.He loved moments where the court could see him appear calm and in control. He loved the illusion that everything in Eldenwald moved according to his will, the laws, the press, the nobles, his sons.Especially his sons.His posture was relaxed in a way it hadn’t been in days, not since the rumours began to circulate with a hunger that couldn’t be star
Tempting the Wrong Prince 115 The Trap She Thought Would Hold
Arden’s POVI stared at Nala where she stood in that red lace like she expected the room itself to bow to her.She had positioned herself perfectly, the low light catching the curve of her shoulder, the colour chosen to provoke, the stillness rehearsed. She wasn’t just trying to entice me.She was trying to corner me.And that was the moment I laughed.Not loudly. Not cruelly. Just a low, quiet sound that escaped before I bothered to stop it , the kind of laugh you give when something stops being a threat and starts being a joke.Her eyes widened immediately.Shock flashed across her face before she smoothed it into something cool and amused.“Well,” she said lightly, tilting her head, “if it weren’t for the rumours about what’s going on between you and your brother’s wife, I’d think you didn’t even fancy women.”Her voice was playful.Her intention was not.I didn’t let the words touch me. Didn’t rise to them. Didn’t react.I just kept looking at her.Because that was the thing abo
Tempting the Wrong Prince 114 The Prayer I Never Deserved 2
Richard’s POVMy father depended on me. The country depended on me. And no matter how much I blamed the crown for caging me, I couldn’t walk away from my people, not when the earth was drying beneath their feet, not when famine crept closer each day like a beast stalking its prey.My royal status wasn’t power. It was shackles.Gilded, polished, revered shackles, but shackles all the same.I would never be free. I could never wander the world the way other men could, disappear for months at a time, chase a life untouched by scrutiny or tradition. That kind of freedom belonged to Arden and Sebastien, my brothers who could go anywhere they wanted, reinvent themselves whenever they chose, live without the crushing weight of a kingdom on their shoulders.And I envied them. God, how I envied them.They could move. They could breathe. They could become whoever they wished to be.Meanwhile I, Crowned Prince of Eldenwald, had never truly lived a single day of my life.And in the mid
Tempting the Wrong Prince 113 The Prayer I Never Deserved
Richard’s POVThe palace was quiet by the time I returned, a strange, heavy quiet that did not soothe, did not soften anything. It was the kind of silence that comes after too much has been said, too much has been broken. A silence that settles not to bring peace, but to remind you of everything that has slipped beyond repair.My footsteps echoed through the marble corridors, each sound hollow against the vastness of the empty hallways. I used to find comfort in these passages, once upon a time when my life still felt tethered to meaning. When Cassandra still smiled at me. When my marriage still felt like a promise instead of a grave I kept digging with my own hands.Now every wall, every chandelier, every ornate pillar felt like they belonged to someone else. Like I was a ghost wandering through a life I had ruined.Home… Home had never been the palace. Home had once been a woman. Her soft voice. Her quiet laughter. Her warmth beside me. A presence I never appreciated unt
Tempting the Wrong Prince 112 The Cage They Built for Me 2
Arden’s POVFor years—since childhood, really—Nala Longman had been presented to the courts as the perfect heir of Belmont. Soft-spoken. Gentle. Well-mannered. The kind of woman who smiled politely, blushed on cue, and never raised her voice. Harmless. Polished. A delicate ornament of diplomacy wrapped in silk and etiquette.But now?Now I saw the truth.She was nothing like the sweet creature she pretended to be. She was the product of a steel-spined empire, sharpened by a court far more ruthless than Eldenwald’s, raised under the shadow of political titans who understood that power was never given—it was taken.And under all that velvet, she had teeth.Sharp ones.But she made one fatal miscalculation.She didn’t know me.No one intimidates me. Not kings. Not generals. Not Presidents, Heads of State, Tyrants. And certainly not pampered heiresses who waltz into my home as if I’m a trophy they’re entitled to mount on their wall.“You can’t have what you want, Nala,” I said qui
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