The Edge of Control (Revised with Jealousy)

Vexaria could feel his eyes on her. Even as she smiled at the nobleman in front of her—Lord Evander, a charming but ultimately inconsequential courtier—she knew Xypheron was watching.

Good.

She let her laughter ring just a little louder, tilted her head just enough to let her hair cascade over her shoulder. She wasn't normally one for petty games, but if Xypheron wanted a war, she would give him one.

But then, something shifted in the air.

It was subtle at first, the slight stiffening in Xypheron's posture. But Vexaria didn't miss the way his gaze hardened, the small muscle in his jaw that twitched. He was watching her too closely.

Lord Evander leaned in, his voice low and warm, "Lady Vexaria, you have the most captivating laugh. I would be honored to spend more time with you—perhaps a ride in the gardens tomorrow?"

Vexaria's lips parted just enough to respond, but then she saw it—Xypheron's cold, calculating gaze flicking to their joined hands.

He had noticed. He was watching her too closely.

She fought the smile threatening to form. If Xypheron wanted to feel that twinge of jealousy, then by all means, she would oblige.

Before she could answer Evander's proposal, Xypheron's voice rang through the space, smooth but with an edge of warning. "Lord Evander," he said, his tone carrying just a hint of menace. "I'm sure your father requires your attention. I'm certain he wouldn't want you spending too much time entertaining her."

Evander tensed, glancing between them, clearly unnerved by the undercurrent of hostility. He bowed slightly, his smile fading. "Of course, Your Highness. If you'll excuse me, Lady Vexaria."

Vexaria couldn't suppress the small, satisfied smirk tugging at the corner of her lips as she watched Evander retreat.

She had him exactly where she wanted.

But before she could relish the small victory, Xypheron was standing before her, his body blocking her escape, his eyes burning with an intensity that sent a shiver down her spine.

"You're playing with fire, Vexaria," he said, his voice low and dangerous.

She met his gaze without hesitation, her own fury simmering just beneath the surface. "Am I? Because it looks to me like someone is jealous."

Xypheron's eyes narrowed. His lips barely parted as he spoke, each word deliberate. "I don't get jealous."

"Then why does it bother you that I'm spending time with someone else?" she taunted, her voice dripping with challenge.

His jaw clenched, but before he could respond, she pressed further, her voice barely above a whisper. "Could it be that you care, Xypheron? That you can't stand the thought of me with anyone else?"

The tension between them crackled like static, thick and charged. For a long moment, Xypheron didn't move. Then, his lips curled into a dark, twisted smile.

"I warned you," he said, voice barely audible, just for her ears. "If you keep this up, I won't let you play this game much longer."

Without another word, he reached out, grabbing her wrist with a force that startled her.

The world blurred as he pulled her toward the exit, away from the crowded ballroom.

But Vexaria didn't fight him.

Because in that moment, she realized that, perhaps, this game wasn't just about winning anymore. It was about who would break first. And Xypheron—no matter how hard he tried to hide it—was already showing signs of caring more than he was willing to admit.