The Sovereign’s chambers loomed before her, cold and oppressive, like the man who occupied them. She stood before his desk, her posture rigid, the weight of his scrutiny bearing down on her. Her mask concealed the turmoil within, but it did little to shield her from his penetrating gaze.
“You’ve been distracted,” the Sovereign said, his tone sharp and measured.
Her voice was steady as she responded, “I’ve executed every task you’ve given me without fail.”
“Yet your conviction wavers,” he said, rising from his chair. “I see it in your eyes, hear it in your voice. Something has changed.”
She said nothing, her silence an act of defiance, though deep down, she knew he wasn’t wrong. The cracks in her facade were small but there, growing wider with each encounter.
“You have forgotten who you belong to,” he continued, his voice colder now. “It’s time you remembered.”
Two guards stepped into the room, their presence making her stomach twist. She knew what was coming. Resistance was pointless.
—
The lashes tore into her back, each strike a painful reminder of her servitude. She refused to scream, her teeth biting into the inside of her cheek to hold back the sound. Her mind drifted as the pain surged through her body, pulling her away from the moment.
Images of Ezekiel flickered in her thoughts. His steady eyes, his quiet persistence, the way he looked at her as if he could see past the mask, past the scars. She hated it.
But she couldn’t stop thinking about him.
—
A few days later, she was inspecting the Sovereign’s latest operations when Ezekiel appeared. She sensed him before she saw him, his presence cutting through the cold efficiency of her surroundings like a warm blade.
“You’ve been avoiding me,” he said, stepping into her path.
“I’m here to work, not to entertain you,” she replied, her tone sharp.
“You’re hurt,” he said, his voice softer now.
Her body tensed. “It’s none of your concern.”
“It is my concern,” he insisted.
She turned to leave, but he caught her arm, his touch gentle yet firm. “Let me see.”
“No,” she said, pulling back.
“Please,” he urged, his voice raw. “I won’t let you carry this alone.”
For a moment, she hesitated. She hated herself for even considering it, for letting the warmth in his voice seep past her defenses. Against her better judgment, she turned her back to him, slowly loosening her cloak.
The fresh scars crisscrossed her back, angry and raw. She felt his sharp intake of breath, heard the quiet rage simmering beneath his composure.
“Who did this to you?” he asked, his voice tight with barely contained fury.
She fastened her cloak quickly, hiding the evidence. “It doesn’t matter.”
“It matters to me,” he said, stepping closer.
She turned to face him, her mask a barrier between them. “Why? Why do you care?”
“Because I can’t stand to see you like this,” he said, his voice breaking. “You don’t deserve it.”
His words struck something deep within her, something she had buried long ago. She tried to ignore it, to shove it down where it couldn’t hurt her, but it was no use.
“You think you know me,” she said, her voice trembling with suppressed emotion. “You don’t.”
“Then let me,” he said, his hands brushing against her arms. “Let me in.”
For a moment, she allowed herself to imagine it-what it would be like to trust him, to let him see her for who she truly was. But then she remembered Louis.
Louis, with his charming smile and empty promises. Louis, who had once made her believe she could be loved, only to shatter her world. The memory of his betrayal was a cold dagger in her chest.
“You’re wasting your time,” she said, stepping away from Ezekiel. “I’m not who you think I am.”
“You’re exactly who I think you are,” he said, his voice steady. “You’re stronger than you know. And you don’t have to carry this alone.”
Her chest ached, the walls around her heart trembling. She hated him for making her feel, for bringing out emotions she thought she had buried forever.
“You should leave,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he replied.
When he finally stepped back, she turned and walked away, her movements stiff and deliberate. She didn’t look back, but she felt his gaze on her, piercing and unrelenting.
—
That night, alone in her quarters, she allowed herself to think about Ezekiel. She hated the way he made her feel vulnerable, the way he reminded her of the person she used to be.
She hated how, in the quiet moments, she found herself comparing him to Louis.
Louis had been her anchor once, the person she thought she could trust with her heart. But Ezekiel was different. He didn’t promise her anything, didn’t try to charm her. He simply stayed, refusing to let her push him away.
It terrified her.
She clenched her fists, the pain in her back a sharp reminder of the Sovereign’s punishment. She couldn’t afford to feel. Not for Ezekiel, not for anyone.
But as much as she tried to convince herself, she couldn’t shake the memory of his touch, his voice, the quiet strength in his eyes.
For the first time in years, she felt the cracks in her armor widening. And she didn’t know if she had the strength to close them.