All Chapters of Tempting the Wrong Prince: Chapter 191 - Chapter 200

Cassandra’s Point Of ViewMy old room was at the end of the corridor.I stopped in front of the door, hand hovering near the handle.My heart was racing so hard I felt dizzy.This was madness.This was risk.This was,I opened the door.And there he was.Arden.He was pacing.Not slowly, not elegantly. He was moving with restless energy, like he’d been holding in too much for too long and his body didn’t know how to stay still.The room was dim, curtains half-drawn, and the light that filtered in made him look… unreal.Like a memory.Like a dream I’d had in the dark when everything else felt hopeless.He turned the second he heard the door.And when his eyes landed on me, his whole face changed.It was like watching someone come back to life.Relief, hunger, tenderness, too much emotion flashing across his features before he forced control again.“Cassy,” he breathed.My throat closed.All the fear I’d been carrying, fear of the King, fear of mobs, fear of my name being dragged throug

Arden’s Point Of ViewI didn’t get home until late.Not “late” the way the palace called it late, when the staff had started dimming the lights and the King had finally decided he was done tormenting people for the day. I meant the kind of late where the streets outside my villa were quieter, where the city sounded like it was holding its breath, where even the security men looked like they were watching shadows instead of cars.The driver pulled up to the gates, and the sensors recognised the plate. The iron slid open with a low mechanical groan. Cameras swivelled. Floodlights flicked on. My head of security, Mikel, was already at the entrance with two men behind him, earpieces in, hands loose but ready.Everything was always ready now.Because Eldenwald felt like a matchbox soaked in petrol, and someone had been flicking lighters for weeks.The car stopped under the canopy. I stepped out, adjusting my jacket, and the cool night air hit my face like a slap I didn’t know I needed. My

Arden’s POVThe nights had stopped feeling like nights.They were no longer for rest, no longer for the gentle slowing of the world, no longer for the relief of closing my eyes and letting tomorrow be tomorrow. Night had become a waiting room, dim, tense, full of the kind of silence that didn’t soothe but threatened.Even inside my own villa, even behind reinforced doors and monitored gates, I could feel the country outside like a fever pressing against glass.Phones never truly went quiet anymore. Notifications sat like ticking insects in the corners of screens. Headlines changed by the hour. Public opinion whipped itself into storms and then into worse storms. The famine wasn’t just a famine, it was fuel. And everyone was looking for someone to burn.I should have been asleep.I had come home late, hours after I should have, with the taste of Cassy still on my mouth and the weight of her body still in my hands, and yet the moment I stepped into my room, the reality of the world had

Arden’s POVI kept it high-level, because even speaking too much detail felt like writing something dangerous into the air.“Quiet leaks,” I said. “Not public yet. Directly to the right leaders. Enough to make them investigate. Enough to make them question their alliance.”Silence for a beat, then my friend exhaled. “That’s the correct approach.”Richard leaned forward, thinking aloud. “It reduces his allies. If the neighbouring nations see what he’s done, they’ll turn.”Sebastien added, “And then we find a clean opposition candidate and feed him what he needs.”I nodded, though only my brothers could see. “Exactly.”My friend’s tone stayed calm. “You’ll need to be careful about timing. You’ll need to avoid exposing sources. And you’ll need to understand that leaders don’t like being embarrassed, even when they’re the victims.”“I know,” I said.Richard’s voice was firm, cutting into the call like a blade. “We also identify who is compromised in the opposition. We can’t feed informati

Cassandra’s POVMy mother’s lips parted. She looked pained, like those words tasted bitter even though they were honest.My father’s gaze held mine for a second. And in that gaze was both warning and hope.He just hopes Arden comes through for me.That was the part no one could guarantee.Arden was powerful. Arden was stubborn. Arden was fearless.But Arden was also standing against a king.Against a whole nation’s hunger.Against international pressure.Against my marriage’s shadow.Against the cruelty of Ivana.Hope was a dangerous thing.I didn’t say anything.Because what could I say? That Arden had already come through for me in ways no one else had? That he had saved my parents? That he had held me when I was shaking? That he made me feel seen in a palace that had turned me into a scapegoat?My mother swallowed and looked down at her tea. “I just…” she began softly. “I just want you safe.”“I know,” I said.And I meant it.I also wanted me safe.But safety wasn’t a simple thing