Waiting for her answer felt like an eternity — a silence that stretched wider than the space between our kingdoms. Every heartbeat sounded louder than the wind, each second another reminder that Mishka was not the kind of woman who gave easy answers.
She had been reborn as a Princess, yes, but she thought like someone who had lived and lost before — careful, measured, with a heart that knew what pain could cost.
When she moved a little away from me, the shift was small but heavy. Her hesitation wasn’t rejection; it was conflict. The kind that came from trying to choose between duty and desire.
And I knew then that whatever words came next, they would not be the answer I wanted.
But I also knew I wasn’t giving up.
Taking a steady breath, I reached for her hand — the one where my ring s
