I stood there, frozen, swallowing down the hundred apologies burning in my throat. Jesse's grip on my arm tightened—not painful, but firm, authoritative.
Prince Julius narrowed his eyes, tension crackling between them like lightning ready to strike.
But then Julius smirked—a cold, cutting smirk—and turned on his heel, his guards following him like shadows.
The second he was gone, Jesse moved.
Without a word, he yanked me after him, dragging me down the palace corridors with long, furious strides. His hold was relentless, and I had to practically run to keep up with him.
I stumbled once—he didn't stop.
My heart was beating very fast.
What was he doing?
Where was he taking me?
I didn't dare ask.
Not when the anger radiating off him felt like it could burn me alive.
Finally, we reached my room.
He shoved the door open, dragged me inside, and slammed it shut behind us with a force that made the walls tremble.
Only then did he let go of my arm—shoving me a step backward, as if disgusted.
"What were you thinking?" Jesse demanded, his voice sharp, clipped. "Assaulting royalty? Creating a spectacle like that?"
I kept my head low. "I didn't know he was a prince," I mumbled.
"That's no excuse," he snapped. "You think ignorance will protect you here? One wrong move and you would have been publicly executed. Do you understand that?"
The full weight of his fury slammed into me, and I shrank back instinctively. But there was no escape—he was already pacing the small space between us like a caged predator.
"You think palace life is like the training grounds?" he hissed. "You think heart and guts will save you here?"
I pressed my hands to my sides to stop them from trembling. I didn't understand why he was so angry. So infuriated.
"You need control," he said coldly. "You need discipline. Not just strength. If you can't learn that, you'll be dead in a week and you wouldn't even know how you died."
His words cut deeper than any blade.
I opened my mouth—then thought better of it and shut it again.
He stared at me for a long, heavy moment.
And in that moment, I felt bare and thoroughly exposed.
The fury in his gaze didn't soften.
But there was something else there too.
"You're under my command now," Jesse said, voice low. "Every mistake you make reflects on me."
I nodded quickly, biting the inside of my cheek to keep from apologizing again.
"You will not act without thinking. You will not engage without orders. And you will not touch any member of the royal family again. Am I clear?"
"Yes, Your Highness," I whispered.
He took a step closer, towering over me, forcing me to meet his burning gaze.
"I'm doing this because you're mine to control now."
I swallowed hard, my throat dry. Something about his words didn't sit right by me but I didn't want to refute him regardless.
"Rest tonight," Jesse ordered. "Starting tomorrow, your training will be doubled. And if you embarrass me again…"
He let the threat hang there, unfinished but understood.
Without waiting for a response, he turned and left, slamming the door behind him.
I stood there, heart pounding in the silence he left behind.
No tenderness.
No comfort.
Just a cold, brutal truth:
I had just caught the attention of the most dangerous prince in the kingdom.
The next morning, I dragged myself out of bed long before the first light broke over the palace walls. My body was heavy, stiff from yesterday's punishment, but it wasn't just the physical exhaustion weighing me down.
It was the memory of Jesse's words.
The cold fire in his voice.
The way he'd said I was his to control now.
I couldn't get it out of my head. No matter how hard I tried to shake it off.
By the time I reached the training grounds, the others were already there — stretching, sparring, laughing quietly among themselves like nothing in the world had changed.
I joined the warm-up drills, my movements mechanical, distant.
John barked out commands, his voice sharp and precise, but it all felt like background noise. My mind kept drifting, replaying every second of last night.
"You will not act without thinking."
"You're mine to control now."
I fired an arrow at the target... and missed badly.
"Focus, Bella!" John snapped.
I flinched.
The next set of drills started — footwork and blade practice. I tried to keep up, tried to push the thoughts aside, but it was like fighting against a current dragging me under.
I stumbled during a basic defensive maneuver, my sword slipping slightly from my grip.
It didn't go unnoticed.
"Stop!" John's voice cracked like a whip across the courtyard.
Everyone froze.
He marched straight up to me, his boots slamming into the dirt with every step.
"You think this is a game?" he barked, stopping only inches from my face.
"No, sir," I mumbled, eyes downcast.
"Then act like it!" he roared, loud enough that a few of the nearby soldiers winced. "Your head is somewhere else. I don't care if you're tired, scared, or thinking about your next meal—you leave it all behind when you step onto this ground. Do you understand me?"
"Yes, sir," I said, my face burning with shame.
"Good. Because if you mess up out there, you don't get second chances. You don't get do-overs. You die."
I nodded quickly, biting the inside of my cheek so I wouldn't cry in front of everyone.
John stared at me a second longer, like he was trying to decide whether it was worth wasting more breath on me.
Finally, he stepped back.
"From the top!" he barked. "Everyone — again!"
I picked up my sword with trembling fingers, forcing myself to move, to breathe, to focus.
But the knot in my stomach didn't go away.
If anything, it tightened even harder.
Because no matter how much I told myself to forget it —
to just be a soldier and do my job —
I couldn't escape the feeling.