Aveline turned away again.

Ahead, several servants and guards stood along the corridor. One guard instinctively moved to block her path, until his eyes landed on Theron behind her. Immediately, he stepped aside and bowed deeply.

Aveline rolled her eyes.

Theron was obviously someone important. Important enough that guards stepped aside the instant they saw him, even dressed only in a night robe with his hair still tousled from sleep.

And yet somehow, despite all that power, he still could not simply keep her by his side. Instead, he kept passing her around like some troublesome responsibility he did not want to deal with personally.

"Little hare..."

Theron finally caught up to her, his hand settling lightly against her shoulder.

Aveline froze.

That voice—soft, familiar, careful—only made her angrier. What was the point of sounding so gentle when he insisted on keeping distance between them?

"I’m leaving," she declared as she turned to face him.

And just like always, the moment her eyes met his, some of her anger betrayed her.

He looked as though he had come straight from bed. His dark hair was messy, falling untidily over his forehead, and he wore nothing but that loose night robe hanging carelessly over his frame. There was exhaustion in his eyes too, as though he had not rested properly at all.

For some reason, what he had once told her about night robes in his kingdom resurfaced in her mind.

And with it came the memory of that dream.

Aveline immediately tried not to think about it.

Unfortunately, remembering not to think about it only made the memory sharper, of the warmth, the closeness, and the feeling of him.

Meanwhile, Theron could see her softening despite herself.

So he stepped closer. Too close.

The remnants of his own dream still clung stubbornly to him... the memory of her hair tangled between his fingers, the softness of her beneath him, the aching warmth he had woken with. Standing near her now only made it worse.

He wanted to touch her. Just once. Just to rest his hand against her head and feel her there for real.

And this morning, after hearing Rosalyn speak about him as though he were something she owned, he had finally understood, if only for a fleeting moment, the kind of hurt Aveline must have felt when he had bought her.

He knew she still carried that wound. Even now.

Slowly, almost unconsciously, the distance between them disappeared.

Theron looked down and realized her head was close enough to rest against his chest if she leaned forward just a little more.

And absurdly enough, simply standing this near her made something inside him feel... full. Complete.

Aveline let him come close.

She even closed her eyes for a brief second as his warmth surrounded her again; the warmth she had missed far more than she wanted to admit.

"I couldn’t sleep well last night..." Theron murmured quietly.

Because of you.

The unspoken words lingered heavily between them.

Then...

Just as Theron was about to lift his hand and gently rest it against her head, Aveline suddenly stepped back.

Theron nearly groaned aloud.

Now what?

"You are despicable!" Aveline burst out.

Theron blinked at her.

What had he done this time?

But one look at her flushed face and trembling lips told him this was somehow serious in her mind.

"What’s wrong?" he asked carefully.

Aveline glared at him accusingly. "You should go buy more jasmine flowers for your betrothed instead of wasting your time with me," she snapped.

Theron stared at her, genuinely confused.

Jasmine flowers?

And why was Rosalyn suddenly part of this conversation? One moment they had been sharing something soft and quiet, and the next...

"Aveline..."

He reached for her hand instinctively, trying to stop her before she stormed away again.

But... she spun around and kicked him hard in the leg with all the strength she could muster.

The sharp sound echoed through the corridor.

The guard who had just bowed stared in horror. Edric, who had arrived behind them, looked utterly stunned as Theron visibly felt the impact of the kick.

Someone had just kicked the Crown Prince.

And he had let her.

Outraged on Theron’s behalf, Edric instinctively stepped forward, ready to reprimand her, but Kael immediately caught his arm.

"I’ve already tried," Kael muttered under his breath, shaking his head. "Leave them."

And in that moment, Edric understood something that made his stomach tighten. This girl was not merely someone precious to the Crown Prince.

She was likely the very center of his heart.

Theron clenched his jaw.

The kick had genuinely hurt.

Aveline noticed the slight shift in his expression too, and the instant she realized she had caused him pain, panic flickered across her face. Like a startled little hare afraid retaliation would follow, she turned quickly to flee.

But Theron moved faster.

One arm wrapped around her waist effortlessly.

Before she could react, he lifted her clean off the ground and threw her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

"Let go of me!" Aveline shrieked, flailing wildly.

The entire mansion froze.

Servants stared openly. Guards looked as though they had forgotten how to breathe. Even Edric stood frozen, unable to process the sight before him.

Their feared Crown Prince—the man whispered about in terror throughout the kingdom—was calmly carrying away a furious woman over his shoulder while enduring her kicks and punches without retaliating once.

Aveline, meanwhile, was beyond reason.

She kicked. Flung her arms. Screamed at him without restraint.

And the worst part?

He smelled like jasmine.

His robe smelled like jasmine.

The scent wrapped around her infuriatingly clearly, and the moment she noticed it, her imagination betrayed her completely.

He had spent the entire night with his betrothed.

While she had been dreaming about him, he was enjoying the real thing with another woman. Laughing with her. Staying close to her. Perhaps even doing all the things Aveline’s stupid dreams kept tormenting her with.

And now...

Now he dared to appear before her dressed in the remnants of that night and act as though he cared about her feelings?

The audacity!

When kicking failed to shake him loose, Aveline resorted to pinching him instead. Unfortunately, Theron’s body was nothing but hard muscle beneath her fingers. The only place she managed to grab properly was...

His butt.

Hamilton too joined her to scratch him. Theron ground his teeth hard enough for his jaw to ache.

"Stop that," he warned tightly.

"Let go of me!" Aveline shrieked right back.

The servants along the corridor hurriedly stepped aside, horrified beyond words. The cruel prince who could kill a man without blinking was currently being assaulted by a small, furious woman who looked ready to claw his eyes out.

One trembling maid quickly opened a door for him.

Theron walked straight inside.

The room stirred a faint sense of familiarity in him, but he barely spared it a thought. Right now, all his attention was fixed on the furious creature (not Hamilton) still fighting against his shoulder.

He crossed the room and finally dropped her onto the bed.

The mattress dipped sharply beneath them.

Aveline scrambled backward immediately, breathing hard, her hair disheveled, cheeks flushed with anger. Theron climbed onto the bed after her, one knee sinking into the mattress as he leaned closer.

Close enough that she could still smell the jasmine clinging faintly to him.

Close enough that he could see the wounded anger burning in her eyes beneath all that rage.

"Can we talk?" he asked quietly.