The endless Beauty

Scars of Devotion

The sun dipped low over the horizon, casting long shadows across the palace gardens as Morha paced the stone path, her fingers twisting the delicate fabric of her skirt. The scent of jasmine hung heavy in the air, but it did little to calm the storm inside her.

"You're going to wear a hole in the ground if you keep that up," a familiar voice teased.

She turned to see Matthew leaning against the arched entrance of the garden, his dark eyes warm with amusement. The sight of him—his tousled hair, the way his shirt clung to his broad shoulders—sent her heart into a frantic rhythm.

"I wasn't expecting you," she said, forcing her voice steady.

"Clearly." He pushed off the wall and closed the distance between them. "You’ve been avoiding me."

Morha swallowed. "I’ve been busy."

"Busy?" Matthew arched a brow. "Or avoiding the inevitable?"

She looked away, her gaze settling on the distant silhouette of the palace towers. The weight of tradition pressed down on her, an unyielding force. "You know why this is impossible."

"Because your family believes in outdated rules?" He stepped closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Because they think love should be dictated by bloodlines and titles?"

She flinched. "It’s not just what they think. It’s who I am. I can’t just—"

"You can." His hand brushed hers, sending a jolt of warmth through her. "You’re stronger than you give yourself credit for."

Morha pulled away, wrapping her arms around herself. "You don’t understand. If I defy them, I lose everything. My family. My home. My duty."

Matthew’s expression darkened. "And if you don’t, you lose us."

The words hung between them, heavy and unspoken. The truth was a blade twisting in her chest. She wanted him—more than anything—but the cost was terrifying.

A rustle of fabric interrupted them. Morha turned to see her cousin, Liora, standing at the edge of the garden, her lips pursed in disapproval. "The council is waiting for you, Morha."

She stiffened. "I’ll be there shortly."

Liora’s gaze flicked to Matthew, her disdain clear. "You shouldn’t keep them waiting. Not when your future is being decided."

The implication was obvious. Morha’s stomach twisted. "Go ahead. I’ll follow."

With a final glare at Matthew, Liora swept away, leaving silence in her wake.

Matthew exhaled sharply. "They’re already planning your marriage, aren’t they?"

Morha nodded, her throat tight. "Prince Elias of Vareen arrives tomorrow."

His jaw clenched. "So that’s it? You’re just going to accept it?"

"What choice do I have?" Her voice cracked.

Matthew caught her wrist, his grip firm but gentle. "Fight for us. For what we have."

She wanted to. Gods, she wanted to. But the fear was paralyzing. "I don’t know how."

"Then let me show you." He cupped her face, his thumb brushing her cheek. "Meet me tonight. At the old ruins. Just—give me one chance to prove that this is worth fighting for."

Her breath hitched. The ruins were f*******n, a place of rebellion and whispered secrets. Going there was a risk. But the look in his eyes—desperate, hopeful—made her nod before she could second-guess herself.

"Tonight," she whispered.

He pressed a kiss to her forehead, quick and fleeting, before stepping back. "I’ll be waiting."

As he disappeared into the twilight, Morha’s heart raced. She was playing with fire. But for the first time in her life, she didn’t care.

---

The council chamber was suffocating.

Morha sat stiffly in her seat, her fingers gripping the arms of her chair as the elders debated her future like she wasn’t even there.

"Prince Elias is a suitable match," her uncle declared. "His lineage is impeccable, and the alliance would strengthen our borders."

Her father, the king, remained silent, his expression unreadable.

Morha clenched her jaw. "And what if I don’t want to marry him?"

The room fell silent. Her uncle’s eyes narrowed. "This isn’t about what you want. It’s about duty."

"Duty?" She stood, her voice trembling with defiance. "What about happiness? What about love?"

Her father finally spoke, his voice weary. "Morha, enough. This is the way it has always been."

The finality in his tone crushed her. She had hoped, foolishly, that he might understand. That he might see her as more than a pawn.

Without another word, she turned and strode from the room, ignoring the calls behind her.

---

The ruins were bathed in moonlight when Morha arrived, the crumbling stones glowing silver. She hesitated at the edge, her pulse erratic. This was madness. If she was caught—

"Morha."

Matthew emerged from the shadows, his face illuminated by the soft light. He held out a hand. "You came."

She took it, his warmth grounding her. "I don’t know what I’m doing."

"Neither do I." He smiled faintly. "But we’ll figure it out together."

He led her deeper into the ruins, to a hidden alcove where a small fire flickered. The intimacy of the space made her heart race.

"I can’t marry Elias," she blurted.

Matthew stilled. "Then don’t."

"It’s not that simple."

"It can be." He turned to face her, his eyes burning with intensity. "Run away with me."

Her breath caught. "What?"

"Leave this place. Start over somewhere they can’t reach us."

The idea was terrifying. Exhilarating. "You’re serious."

"Deadly." He took both her hands. "I love you, Morha. And I’m not letting you go without a fight."

Tears pricked her eyes. No one had ever fought for her before.

Before she could respond, a twig snapped.

They froze.

Footsteps echoed, followed by the unmistakable clink of armor.

Morha’s blood turned to ice. The royal guard.

Matthew pulled her close. "Go. Now."

"But—"

"Go!" He pushed her toward a hidden passage. "I’ll hold them off."

She hesitated, torn.

"Morha," he pleaded. "Please."

With one last look, she turned and fled into the darkness, her heart breaking with every step.

Behind her, the shouts of the guards grew louder.

And then—silence.

She didn’t look back