POV Matteo
I've learned more from shadows than I ever learned from sunlight.
Years of court politics have taught me to watch from the margins, to read the stories people tell with their bodies when their mouths are busy lying.
It's a useful skill—one that's kept me alive through assassination attempts, political betrayals, and my father's endless disappointments.
Today, the shadows show me something interesting.
Eva crosses the courtyard with her usual careful grace, every step measured, every expression controlled. To anyone else, she looks like a princess performing her role.
But I notice the way her path curves, almost imperceptibly, toward Dominic's post near the eastern gate.
She pauses nearby. Not quite beside him. Not quite touching.
But they lean toward each other like plants toward sunlight.
The glances they exchange when they think no one's looking speak volumes. His eyes track her movement with desperate attention. Her lips part slightly when she catches his gaze.
Their bodies angle together even as propriety keeps them apart.
Meaningful. Charged. Dangerous.
I recognize that look. I've worn it myself, though never with such reckless sincerity. When I want someone, I take them. I don't pine from a distance like a lovesick poet.
But there's something almost beautiful in their restraint. Something painfully genuine that makes my cynical heart twist with an emotion I can't quite name.
I find Eva later, sitting in a window alcove overlooking the grounds.
The afternoon light illuminates every sign of exhaustion she's been hiding—dark circles beneath her eyes, shoulders curved with invisible weight, hands folded in her lap with white-knuckled tension.
She's breaking. Slowly, quietly, where she thinks no one can see.
I settle beside her without invitation, and for once, my approach isn't predatory. I don't crowd her space or let my presence turn threatening.
I simply sit, watching the same grounds she's watching, waiting for her to acknowledge me.
"You're not going to make some suggestive comment?" Her voice is tired. Hollow.
"I'm not in the mood." I lean back against the alcove wall. "You look like death, princess. When's the last time you actually slept?"
"I don't remember." A bitter laugh escapes her. "There's been a lot on my mind."
"I can imagine." I let the silence stretch before asking, "Has your father set a deadline yet?"
Eva's composure cracks, just slightly. "One week. I have to announce my choice within one week, or he makes the decision for me."
"And let me guess—his preference is Soren."
"The logical choice." Her voice wavers on the last word. "Everything points in one direction. The alliance would benefit everyone."
"Everyone except you."
She turns to look at me, green eyes swimming with exhaustion. "What does that matter? I'm a princess. My wants have never factored into the equation."
I study her face—this woman I've pursued, seduced, claimed in darkness. This woman who carries Soren's child while her heart clearly belongs elsewhere.
For the first time since the courtship began, I don't see a prize to be won. I see a person being crushed beneath expectations she never asked for.
"Can I tell you something?" I keep my voice uncharacteristically soft. "Something I've never admitted to anyone?"
Eva nods warily.
"I've spent my entire life playing a role."
The confession feels strange on my tongue—honest in a way I usually avoid.
"The dark prince. The hedonist. The family disappointment who drowns his inadequacies in wine and women. It's what everyone expects from me, so it's what I deliver."
"Matteo…"
"Let me finish." I hold up a hand. "The thing is, after a while, the mask becomes harder to remove than to wear. You forget who you actually are beneath all the performance. You forget what you actually want, because wanting something real means admitting the role isn't enough."
Eva is silent, listening with an intensity that tells me my words are landing.
"It gets exhausting," I continue. "Pretending to want what you're supposed to want. Choosing the logical path because it's expected, not because it's right."
I turn to face her fully. "Sometimes the bravest thing isn't making the smart choice. It's admitting what you actually need—even when that need terrifies everyone around you."
I don't mention Dominic directly. I don't have to.
The way Eva's breath catches tells me she understands exactly what I'm saying.
"What if what I need destroys everything?" Her voice is barely a whisper. "What if admitting it tears apart alliances and ruins lives and…"
"Then at least you'll have been honest." I hold her gaze. "At least you'll have chosen something real instead of performing until there's nothing left of you."
Her composure crumbles completely.
The tears spill over, weeks of pressure finally finding release. She turns to me with wet eyes and pulls me into a tight embrace—not romantic, not seductive, just desperate human contact.
The kind of touch that says I need someone to hold me together before I fall apart.
I stiffen briefly. Physical affection without intent is foreign territory. I'm used to touch as a weapon, a tool, a means to an end.
But Eva isn't asking for any of that. She's just... holding on.
Something in my chest loosens. My arms come up around her, pulling her closer. My hand strokes her hair with a gentleness I didn't know I possessed.
"It's alright," I murmur. "You don't have to decide anything right now. Just breathe."
She cries against my shoulder—quiet, shaking sobs that speak of exhaustion too deep for words. I hold her through it, this girl I once wanted to conquer, and feel something fundamental shift inside me.
I'm attached to her.
Not in the possessive, consuming way I've pursued women before. Something different. Something that wants to protect rather than claim.
Somewhere between the seduction and the secrets and the shared disasters, Eva stopped being a prize and started being... someone I care about.
The realization should frighten me. Caring makes you vulnerable. Caring gives your enemies weapons to use against you.
But holding her now, feeling her trust settle into my arms, I can't bring myself to regret it.
Eventually, her tears slow. She pulls back, wiping her face with embarrassed hands.
"I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me."
"You're exhausted." I brush a strand of hair from her cheek. "I think you've been holding yourself together through impossible circumstances, and everyone around you keeps demanding more."
My voice softens. "You don't have to apologize for being human, Eva."
She laughs wetly. "When did you become kind?"
"I have my moments." A small smile curves my lips. "Don't tell anyone. I have a reputation to maintain."
Eva's hand finds mine, squeezing briefly. "Thank you, Matteo. For listening. For... understanding."
I squeeze back, then release her.
I don't mention what I saw in the courtyard. Don't ask about the meaningful glances or the desperate longing written across her face whenever Dominic is near. Some things matter more than games.
Some secrets are worth keeping.
As Eva rises to leave, composure rebuilt piece by fragile piece, I watch her go with a feeling I barely recognize.
I came to this courtship wanting to possess her.
Now I just want her to be happy—even if that happiness lies in arms that aren't mine.