Elira stood there, fists clenched, fury simmering just beneath the surface. Her voice was tight, demanding—no longer willing to be ignored.
"I want answers, Elric."
The prince was halfway to the door again, his expression guarded. But she stepped in front of him, blocking his path.
"I'm serious."
"Elira—"
"No more dodging," she snapped. "No more disappearing into shadows. Who was that beast?"
He paused, looking past her as if the walls were suddenly more interesting.
"Why did it save me? Why did it bring me back here? To you?" she continued, voice trembling. "Do you own it or something? Is it one of your cursed little pets you only let loose when someone disobeys you?"
His jaw tensed, but he said nothing.
She stepped closer, daring him.
"And where do you go every night? You vanish. Every time the moon rises, you're just gone. Do you slip out while the rest of us sleep, or do you turn to mist and float off into the night with your royal secrets?"
"Elira," he said firmly, "You don't need to know."
Her eyes flared. "Excuse me?"
"You wouldn't understand," he muttered, brushing past her.
She turned with him, refusing to back down. "Try me."
"No," he snapped. "This isn't your world. The more you know, the more danger you're in."
"I'm already in danger!" she shouted. "I've had swords at my throat, magic tracking me, and a literal monster dragging me through the woods. And you still think I need to be kept in the dark?!"
"Elira—" His voice cracked slightly now, lower. Rougher. "Please stop asking."
She blinked.
That wasn't a prince's command.
That was a plea.
Soft. Vulnerable. Scared.
"Why are you afraid?" she whispered.
He looked at her for a long moment, silver eyes flickering with something unreadable.
"I'm not afraid for me," he finally said.
And then he left.
This time… quietly.
Leaving Elira standing there in stunned silence.
And more questions than ever before.