Matthew gently pulled away, though his hands lingered on my shoulders as if reluctant to break the connection.
His crimson eyes glimmered with determination, but there was a softness there that made my heart ache.
“We need to talk about the silver key,” he said finally, his voice steady but laced with concern.
I nodded, the weight of the situation settling over me again. “What do we do? Ruelle isn’t going to stop.”
Matthew sighed and stepped toward the window, staring out at the city lights. “He’s after more than just the key. He wants the throne, and he’s willing to go to any lengths to get it. But the key is the only proof of royal succession—it’s tied to my bloodline. Without it, he has no claim.”
I crossed my arms, feeling the smooth edges of the key hidden in my pocket. “But why
