Chapter 2: A Forbidden Encounter

The night was deep when Elara slipped away from the grand hall, the echoes of laughter and music fading as she entered the dimly lit corridors of the palace. Her head was still spinning from the presence of the Moretti family—from him.

Vesper Moretti.

There had been something unsettling about the way he watched her, as if he already knew a secret about her that she didn’t. She had tried to ignore him, to pretend his presence was nothing more than an unfortunate formality. But she couldn’t shake the feeling that his arrival meant something more.

And so, she followed her instincts.

Elara moved through the hallways like a shadow, her gown whispering against the stone floor. The guards were stationed at their usual posts, oblivious to her movements. They had grown used to her late-night wanderings—had stopped questioning them long ago.

She had just turned a corner when she saw it. A flicker of movement.

Someone was there.

Elara pressed herself against the cold wall, her pulse quickening. Intruder. But no—this wasn’t a common thief or an assassin. The figure moved with too much precision, too much control.

And then he stepped into the light.

Vesper.

Her breath hitched. He was dressed in dark clothes, a sharp contrast to the noble façade he had presented earlier. His suit jacket was gone, the top buttons of his shirt undone, revealing a glimpse of golden skin. He looked less like a noble heir and more like a predator stalking his prey.

And then, as if he had sensed her presence, his head snapped in her direction.

Their eyes locked.

For a long moment, neither of them moved.

Then, in the blink of an eye, he was on her.

Elara gasped as he slammed her back against the wall, his arm bracing beside her head, caging her in. The space between them vanished, and she felt the heat of his body, the steady rise and fall of his breath.

“What are you doing sneaking around, Princess?” His voice was low, smooth as silk, but there was an edge to it—something dangerous lurking beneath.

“I should be asking you the same thing,” she shot back, refusing to shrink under his gaze. “You’re trespassing in my home.”

His lips twitched in amusement. “Your home?” He leaned in, just slightly, his scent—a mix of leather, smoke, and something unmistakably male—wrapping around her senses. “Your father may wear the crown, but we both know who really owns this kingdom.”

Her jaw clenched. “You’re nothing more than a criminal, hiding behind money and influence.”

“And you’re nothing more than a caged bird, pretending to be free.”

The words hit deeper than she cared to admit, but she refused to let him see it.

Instead, she tilted her chin up defiantly. “If you think I’ll let you and your family sink your claws into this palace, you’re mistaken.”

His eyes darkened, amusement flickering into something else. Something… hungry.

“Tell me, Princess,” he murmured, his fingers brushing a stray strand of hair from her cheek, “are you this fiery with everyone, or just with me?”

Elara’s breath caught. This was dangerous.

She needed to get away, to put space between them before she lost herself in the strange pull drawing them together. But her body betrayed her—her pulse quickened, her skin burned where he touched her, and for the briefest moment, she wondered what it would feel like to close the distance between them.

No.

She shoved against his chest, breaking free.

Vesper let her go, but the smirk on his lips told her everything. He had felt it, too.

“This isn’t over, Princess,” he said as he stepped back into the shadows. “Not even close.”

Then he was gone, disappearing into the night like a phantom.

Elara pressed a hand to her chest, her heart hammering against her ribs.

She had spent her whole life fearing the prophecy.

But for the first time, she realized something even more terrifying.

It wasn’t the prophecy she should fear.

It was him.

Elara stood frozen, her back still pressed against the cold stone wall. Her heart pounded against her ribs, refusing to slow even though Vesper had vanished into the shadows.

What in the gods’ name had just happened?

She touched the spot where his fingers had brushed her cheek, an unfamiliar heat lingering on her skin. It was ridiculous—infuriating, even. She had spent years perfecting her composure, mastering the art of diplomacy and control, yet a single moment with him had unraveled her.

This was dangerous.

Vesper Moretti was dangerous.

And yet… her legs refused to move, as if she was still tethered to that moment. To him.

Get it together, Elara.

Drawing a slow breath, she forced her feet forward, her hands clenching at her sides. She needed answers.

Elara followed the path Vesper had taken, moving carefully through the dimly lit hallways of the palace. The scent of candle wax and aged stone filled the air as she descended a spiral staircase that led to the restricted wing—a part of the palace few had access to.

Her mind raced. What was he looking for? The Moretti family rarely left the underworld unless they had a reason. And Vesper? He wasn’t the kind of man to waste his time.

He was after something.

Elara slipped into the shadows, her breath steady as she reached the lower hall. The torches here burned lower, casting flickering light along the stone walls. She listened—strained her ears for any sign of him.

Then—a whisper of movement.

She turned a corner and caught a glimpse of him ahead, standing before an ancient iron door. It was carved with old runes, symbols of magic long forbidden in the kingdom.

Elara’s stomach tightened. That door… it led to the hidden archives.

Before she could think, Vesper reached into his jacket and pulled out a small obsidian dagger. Without hesitation, he pressed the blade against his palm and sliced it open.

A drop of his blood hit the iron door.

And the runes glowed.

Elara’s breath caught as the door unlocked itself, magic pulsing from the carvings.

Vesper knew. He knew of the magic buried in the palace. He had the key to it.

Who are you, Vesper Moretti?

She stepped forward, and the sound of her boot against the stone echoed like a shot in the silence.

Vesper’s head snapped toward her.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The dim torchlight cast shadows over his sharp features, his bloodied palm still open, drops of crimson staining the floor.

Then, he sighed.

“I told you this wasn’t over,” he murmured.

Elara’s pulse spiked. “What are you doing here?”

Vesper wiped the blood off on his sleeve. “Retrieving something that belongs to me.”

Her gaze flickered to the open door, magic still humming from its runes. “That room contains forbidden knowledge. You have no right to—”

“I don’t give a damn about rights, Princess.” His voice was smooth, but beneath it was something sharper—something almost… resigned. “You and I both know your kingdom is built on secrets.”

Her jaw clenched. “Then why don’t you tell me yours?”

He chuckled, stepping toward her. “You’re bold. I’ll give you that.”

Elara didn’t move. She stood her ground as he closed the distance between them, his presence far too intoxicating for her own good.

“This has nothing to do with you,” he murmured, his voice lower now. Softer. “Walk away, Princess.”

She stared up at him, fire in her veins. “I don’t take orders from criminals.”

Vesper exhaled, shaking his head as if she were impossible. Then—so fast she barely had time to react—he reached out and grabbed her wrist.

A sharp shock shot through her.

Not pain—something else. Something… unnatural.

Elara’s vision blurred for a split second, the air between them charged with raw energy. It pulsed through her bones, a heat so intense it left her gasping.

Vesper went rigid. His grip on her wrist tightened—not in force, but in realization.

He felt it too.

A terrible silence stretched between them.

Then—he cursed under his breath and yanked his hand away.

Elara staggered back, her skin still tingling.

“What… was that?” she whispered.

Vesper’s expression was unreadable, his jaw tight. But there was something in his eyes—something that almost looked like fear.

Without another word, he turned and strode through the open door, disappearing into the darkness beyond.

Elara didn’t stop him.

Because for the first time in her life, she felt it.

The prophecy shifting.

And it terrified her.