Semua Bab Game of hearts: The Ruthless Alpha and his warrior bride : Bab 151 - Bab 160

Edgar I sank to one knee, pressing a hand to the marble beneath me. The ground felt impossibly cold, like it was trying to swallow everything I’d built,,and everything I’d lost. Smoke curled around the columns, twisting in ribbons, clinging to the banners that were already singed at the edges. The hall smelled of burnt wine and iron and betrayal. It hit me all at once: this was my palace. My life. My rule. And it had just been stripped bare. Every instinct screamed to follow her, to tear through Gethro’s men and drag her back, to make her stay whether she wanted to or not. But even as I stood, my fingers still tight around the marble, I knew the truth: she had already made a decision I couldn’t undo. Not yet. Not safely. The guards swarmed around me, some uncertain, some shaking in disbelief at the chaos. I saw a few faces I recognized,,the ones who’d trained under me for years. Their loyalty was iron, but even they were hesitant. This wasn’t just an attack; it was a spectacle. A

CelesteSmoke followed her.Not the thick kind that chokes — just the faint, stubborn scent woven into her hair and clothes, like the night refused to let her go. Every time the wind shifted, she caught it again and saw flashes of fire against marble, banners collapsing into ash, Edgar’s crest turning to cinders.She didn’t look back.If she did, she wasn’t sure she’d keep riding.The southern ridge was all loose stone and brittle grass, the ground uneven beneath her horse’s hooves. Moonlight spilled across the land in pale silver, making everything look softer than it really was. But nothing about tonight was soft.Her thighs burned from the pace. Her fingers ached from gripping the reins too tight. She forced them to loosen.Control the body. Control the fear.Gethro’s riders moved like shadows around her, quiet now. The adrenaline from the palace had drained, leaving only the heavy understanding of what they’d done.Not just an attack.A message.And she had signed it in flame.“Tw

Celeste The cellar felt tighter with him standing there.Not just because Edgar had grown into himself — broader shoulders, heavier presence — but because the air between them was crowded with things neither of them had ever said out loud.Celeste stayed where she was on the last step.Too close would feel like surrender.Too far would feel like fear.So she held her ground.“You look terrible,” she said quietly.One corner of his mouth moved. “I’ve been called worse this week.”“You’re not sleeping.”“No.”“Because of me?”“Because the city’s one bad day away from tearing itself apart,” he said. A beat. “You’re part of that equation.”“Only part?”“Don’t get smug.”She almost smiled.Almost.He didn’t look angry the way she’d expected. No fire, no sharp edge of betrayal. Just exhaustion. The kind that sank into bone.“I didn’t think you’d come yourself,” she said.“I didn’t think you’d stay in one place long enough for me to catch up.”“Guess we’re both full of surprises.”Silence s

EdgarThe quiet didn’t last.It never did.By dawn, the palace felt different — not louder, not busier, just… alert. Like a body bracing before impact. Servants moved faster. Messengers didn’t linger in corridors. Even the guards held their spears a little tighter, eyes sharper beneath their helms.News traveled faster than orders.And yesterday’s council had been nothing but bad news for men who preferred power unchallenged.I was halfway through my first report of the morning when Vale entered without knocking.That alone told me enough.“They’ve started,” she said.“Where?”“Whispers first. Three noble houses claiming you’ve been… influenced.” Her mouth tightened slightly around the word. “They’re pushing the idea that recent policy shifts are the result of emotional compromise.”I didn’t look up from the parchment. “How delicately treason dresses itself.”“They’re being careful. No direct accusations. Just concern for the throne. Concern for your health.” A beat. “Concern about th

Edgar Victory is quieter than people think.It doesn’t roar. It doesn’t celebrate. It doesn’t even breathe properly.It just sits beside you in the dark and waits to see what you’ve broken to earn it.I felt it riding back from Harren’s river estate.The city was asleep, or pretending to be. Lanterns guttered low in the outer streets. A dog barked once, then thought better of it. My horse’s hooves sounded too loud on stone, like a countdown no one else could hear.I had embarrassed powerful men.Publicly.There is no such thing as a bloodless humiliation.Vale met me in the inner courtyard when I returned. No torchbearers. No ceremony. Just her, arms folded inside her cloak, expression carved from the same stone as the palace walls.“Well?” she asked.“They didn’t stab me,” I said, handing a stablehand my reins. “So I’m calling it a partial success.”Her mouth twitched despite herself. “You split them.”“I exposed them,” I corrected. “The split was already there.”We walked side by