Elara stood in front of Thorne's door, her fingers clenched so tightly her knuckles turned white. Her jaw locked, trembling with restraint.

She had come to apologize, to tell him she spoke out of line in the hall. She shouldn't have questioned him the way she did and that too in front of the workers. It had weighed on her soul, even more so when Thorne had outrightly ignored her.

That, she couldn't bear. She could bear anything but that… Thorne had to speak to her. His silence was the worst punishment he could ever give her.

And so… when the night came, she came to his room, ready to apologize for what she did. Never in a million years did she think she would see this. That a day like this would come.

A lump rose up her throat the more she watched. Adina sat beside Thorne's bed, eyes watching him like he was a puzzle she couldn't unravel.

Throne was asleep, his chest rising and falling slowly. He never looked like that. Not even with me…

Elara's nails dug into her palm.

She had known him for years. Knew the scent of his rage, knew each of his moods. She'd been there through bloodshed, betrayal, the rise of the Obsidian Kingdom. And yet here he was… with that girl.

Something inside her cracked, something old and rotten that had been festering for far too long.

She turned on her heel and stormed back to her room, not even noticing the servants who flinched out of her way. The door slammed shut behind her with a force that shook the wall.

Her chest heaved heavily, eyes blurred with tears. The image of what she just saw played in her mind. Elara let out a gut-wrenching scream.

She felt mad—No—she was mad. Mad with rage. Elara grabbed a vase and threw it against the wall. She didn't stop there, no, she grabbed a chair and threw it against the wall.

Books flew. A tray of wine. The edge of a chair snapped from where she kicked it.

"GET OUT!" she shrieked as her maid came rushing in.

"M-my lady, please—"

Elara spun, her hand reaching for the nearest thing she could throw. A glass bottle flew through the air and struck the girl on the shoulder. The maid yelped, falling to the floor with a whimper.

"Get out!" Elara barked. "OUT!"

The maid cried out, clutching her shoulder as she scrambled out, leaving the door open in her wake.

Elara didn't care. Not when her veins were filled with fury.

"You stupid little wretch," she hissed, panting. "How dare she sit there like she belongs? Like he belongs to her."

Elara stood in the ruins of her room, chest heaving, sweat lining her forehead. She wrapped her arms around herself, staggering toward the bed like her legs couldn't hold her rage.

She sat, then fell forward, elbows on her knees and head in her hands.

He looked peaceful. How could he look peaceful with her? With a slave?

And her? What about her? She's done everything for him. She's fought, killed, bled for him. Would he really leave her for a slave? After all she's done?

No, it wasn't possible. She's waited for this long. She's waited for him to get over Roseanne. She's been the perfect little woman he needed. She's molded herself into a second Roseanne.

Elara wiped her tears, she stared at her reflection through the broken glass. A dry, humorless laugh slipped from her throat.

"Fine. Let Adina believe she's safe. Let her believe Thorne is hers." A sinister smirk slowly made its way to her lips. "Then I'll rip her from his side… piece by piece."

_______

Sunlight crept into the room in a golden hue, filtering through the windows and bathing everything warmly.

Adina stirred first.

She blinked slowly, trying to remember where she was—until her eyes landed on him.

Thorne.

He was lying beside her, just a few inches away. Her eyes widened slightly, looking around the room. The last she remembered was him sleeping and her watching him.

So… how did she find herself on the bed with him next to her? Shit. What did she do? She was actually done for now… he's going to…

She paused in spiraling as her gaze fell on him once again. Taking in how peaceful he looked. One wouldn't say it was the same Thorne Vargan. The very man whom thousands feared. Right there, he looked normal.

His face was relaxed, the hard lines of his usual scowl were softened by sleep. The faint scar that slashed across his cheek caught the light, a pale contrast against his sun-kissed skin. His lashes were long, unfairly so, and a few strands of his dark hair had fallen over his forehead.

Adina's gaze softened, her heart thudding in a weird, uneven rhythm.

He's beautiful, she thought to herself. He was breathtakingly beautiful. It made it so hard to look away.

Without thinking, her hand moved. Slowly and carefully, she reached out, fingers hovering near his face. A strand of his hair curled across his brow, and she just… wanted to move it. Just flick it back, just once.

Her fingers brushed the strand—

And in the blink of an eye, a strong hand caught her wrist.

Adina froze.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Thorne's eyes snapped open, and for a long second, neither of them moved. His grip was firm, his gaze locked on hers.

Time stood still. Adina couldn't breathe.

"What the fuck," he growled lowly, voice still husky from sleep, "do you think you're doing?"

Adina's mouth parted. Eyes wide with panic and fear. "I—I didn't mean—I just…" Her words came out broken, stuttering, as she scrambled back like a startled deer. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to touch you. I wasn't—"

"Then what were you doing? Trying to kill me in my sleep?"

Adina's eyes went impossibly wider. "W-What? I would never! I didn't—"

Thorne sat up, looking around. It was morning. Exactly how long did he sleep for?

It didn't escape him—the fact that he had slept. Really slept. Not four hours. Not haunted and restless. But fully.

He blinked once, twice, frowning to himself.

"You can go," he said finally, voice flatter now. More composed.

Adina didn't wait for him to say it twice. She slipped off the bed, barely managing to keep her steps steady as she rushed out the door.

_______

Later that morning…

Thorne sat at the head of the long table. The room was silent but for the soft clinking of silverware and the rustle of fabric as servants moved, placing food before them.

His eyes, though, weren't on the plates.

They were on the girl standing at the very back of the room.

Adina.

She was trying to disappear, shrinking behind the taller servants. The memory of what had happened that morning still burned in her mind. She needed to stay as far from him as possible.

Normally, she wouldn't be present during breakfast like this, but since she now tended to Thorne alone. This was a part of her duty. Standing at the far back, she hoped she blended well with the rest and nobody would notice her. But he did. Of course he did. Every breath, every twitch of her fingers—he noticed all of it.

He hadn't slept that well in months. And he hated that he knew why.

A footstep jolted him from his thoughts. Maya, the new head maid stepped forward, her hands steady.

"Shall I, my King?" she asked softly, bowing slightly.

Thorne didn't respond right away. He let the silence stretch just long enough to raise the hairs on every servant's neck. Finally, he spoke.

"No."

Maya blinked. "My King?"

His gaze flicked to the back of the room.

"Adina will do it."

Adina stiffened. Every head turned. Her hands clutched the tray she was holding tightly.

Her throat bobbed as she nodded. Her fingers trembled slightly as she picked up the spoon.

She didn't dare look at anyone. Not Thorne. And certainly not Elara, whose glare she could feel like a dagger. She scooped a small bite of the soup and brought it to her lips.

And waited.

One heartbeat. Two. Three.

Nothing. No burning. No bitterness. No poison. She swallowed carefully, lowering the spoon with a small breath of relief.

She stepped back without a word, bowing her head once.

Thorne gave the barest nod in return. Then—and only then did he pick up his own spoon and ate.

At the far end of the table, Elara sat frozen, her gaze locked on Adina like she might burst into flames just from the weight of her stare.

How dare she?

Her nails bit into her palms beneath the table.

Elara didn't touch her food. Not when her appetite had been replaced by something far more ravenous.

She wasn't sure how much longer she could wait anymore. This was getting on her nerves.