Rion sat in his grand study, his elbows resting on the dark mahogany desk as his fingers drummed against the polished surface. The room was quiet, save for the crackle of the fireplace and the occasional rustle of papers that sat forgotten before him. Normally, this sanctuary was where he found clarity, where he ruled his kingdom with precision and unshakable focus.
But tonight, clarity eluded him.
His mind was consumed by her—Freya.
Her image lingered in his thoughts, eclipsing everything else. Her trembling lips, her soft brown eyes filled with defiance and fear, the delicate curve of her neck as she turned her head away from him. Every detail replayed in his mind like an addictive melody he couldn’t escape. Was this what being fated felt like? Was this overwhelming pull, this all-con
