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In that moment, the veil of secrets between Inés and Cárcel was thinner than it had ever been.

On the surface, Cárcel would march to war under the emperor's orders, which meant they were currently at the brink of labeling each other as traitors who had dared to accuse the crown prince of such terrible deeds. However, fear did not shadow their resolve; they knew the stakes and still, neither faltered.

In fact, Cárcel had openly admitted his knowledge of Oscar's plan with short, simple words, edged with a truth he had carried for quite some time. Icy rage simmered inside Inés. Her gaze fell to the cuts that marred his body, which helped her regain some of her senses. Upon realizing that her hands alone could not tend to the wounds so deep, she crossed to the head of the bed and rang the bell to summon a servant. All the while, he simply watched her without saying a single word.

As the sound of the bell slowly faded from the room, Inés walked back to him and looked directly into his eyes. "Oscar wants me as his concubine," she said calmly.

His calm mask slipped, not from shock but from revulsion, and he clenched his jaw tight.

She smiled coldly as she reached out to trace his jawline. "Perhaps that has always been his plan...or perhaps he believes there is no other way. After all, I had been betrothed to you for many years, and we are now bound in marriage."

Cárcel's voice, dark and filled with disdain, cut through the air. "He did wish to marry you in the beginning."

A soft laugh escaped her, brittle and amused. "You speak of a time when we were but six years old."

However, his eyes gleamed with an unreadable emotion as he gazed steadily into her eyes. "No, Inés. I know that he slithered into Perez whenever he got the chance even as you grew older," he growled, hatred dripping from his words.

The certainty in his voice caught her by surprise-he seemed ready to forsake his past allegiance to the crown prince. Had she expected him to remain loyal to Oscar even after essentially accusing the crown prince of trying to kill him? Regardless, her attention wasn't focused on Oscar's insidious plans. Rather, she was contemplating how Cárcel had uttered those words out loud despite knowing that he could be charged with treason against the crown prince. A strange mixture of liberation and anxiety flared within her as she looked at him, defiant and bound to no duty toward the prince even though his family had spent so many years training him to become a faithful dog.

Now, Cárcel stood at a point of no return, where he would no longer be able to weather the approaching storm by hiding behind the mercy and whims of Oscar or the imperial court.

She silently ran her gaze down his bare torso, marking scars and bruises of varying sizes, some worn smooth with time and others fresh with pain. Although he had promised his safe return, the sight of his battered form made her doubt his words. Her eyes lingered on some of the scars as she wondered if they had been inflicted by his cruel cousin many years ago, back when Cárcel was too young and powerless to fight back. She could imagine the boy silently enduring the abuse without asking his parents for help or resenting his betrothed, even though she had essentially been the cause of it all.

The truth lay before her, raw and undeniable. Oscar had plagued him for many years, but Cárcel's revolt had not risen from realizing his lord's scheme to kill him in cold blood. No, his defiance was born of something deeper; he had only turned against the prince when he discovered that his own death would serve as a means to crush and break Inés.

A familiar pang of frustration and pity stirred within her. Cárcel was so incredibly selfless despite the power and privilege he had been born with, and he became a blind fool in his pursuit of love... his love for her.

"Don't worry, Cárcel. I have never once been swayed by his attempts at seduction," she said in a lighter tone, trying to ease the tension.

His lips twisted in disgust, and he didn't acknowledge her words as he continued, "He must have shrouded his intentions as a continuation of his childish pursuit-to deceive the entire world or perhaps to catch you off guard..." He paused for a moment, then looked at her. "Inés."

"Yes, Cárcel."

"That scoundrel has always desired you," he snarled, barely containing his loathing.

Her fingers moved away from the scars on his chest and traced the lines of his face. When she raised her gaze to meet his, she found herself struck speechless by its sheer intensity and sharpness.

At that moment, a knock on the door broke through the charged silence. With her permission, Alfonso entered the room.

"You called for me, Madam?" he asked politely.

Inés felt some relief at the sense of normalcy that had suddenly settled in the room. She managed to say, "Call for a doctor. Inform him that the injuries will require stitching."

"Right away, Madam," Alfonso said before quickly exiting through the door even though he hadn't even looked at the said injuries, as if he could easily guess at their severity.

When the door closed, the silence returned, heavier than before.

She quietly contemplated what Cárcel had just said. How much of her past did he wish to hear when he couldn't even share anything about the scars that marred his skin or the violence he had suffered in quiet endurance?

Any sane person would scoff at tales of past lives and dismiss her story as mere fantasy. Yet, she knew for a fact that Cárcel would never doubt her, no matter how absurd her revelations might seem. He treated her every word as the very foundation of his reality, and he would believe anything that spilled from her mouth, even if they were a pack of lies.

As she began to realize the magnitude of her love for him, she became more and more terrified of him discovering all of the lives she had lived through. In the present, she was simply "Inés Escalante" and no one else. What would happen when this life fell apart? Even if she refrained from sharing all of her disgraceful history, she feared that even a glimpse of the truth might break him.

Sometimes, knowing the truth was absolute torture. Cárcel's knowledge of Oscar's schemes would only endanger him further because he was an Escalante. He would forever be the eldest son of House Escalante, bound to it as tightly as how Cayetana would remain the mother of the crown prince no matter what happened. His newfound knowledge was a sword that would cut him, a curse in the making, a noose tightening around his neck.

After a long moment of silence, she finally said, "I do not know what he wishes to achieve by sending you away to die and making me his concubine. Perhaps he 'still' wants to punish me for what I have done..."

"Punish," he echoed, seething inside.

"Or... perhaps he simply wants to own me, no matter what that may look like."

She spoke of a time that stretched back to her days as a six-year-old even as her mind traveled to her previous lifetimes. Silently, she moved her hand away from his cheek and gently rubbed the fresh scab that had formed at the corner of his mouth. His lips parted without any resistance and embraced one of her fingers, taking it deep inside his mouth in a sensual gesture. However, he quickly retreated and began to place featherlight kisses down her fingers and palm-a clear gesture of devotion, submission, and reverence.

Although she knew that a cliff waited only a few steps ahead, he somehow gave her the courage to continue walking. She found that she didn't fear the inevitable fall as long as he was by her side-they would plummet and survive together.

Her words felt like hot coal as she spoke.

"Cárcel... Do you recall the absurd dream that I shared with you some time ago?"

His blue eyes gleamed sharply. Although he had been waiting like an obedient dog, his gaze had never moved away from her. "Of course. I remember everything you have ever told me."

"Well, the crown prince..." She swallowed with some effort. "Oscar... he used to be my husband, once upon a time."

She felt a wave of nausea as she spoke those words, even though she knew it was all in the past. Cárcel quickly grabbed her hand as it limply slid down his shoulder, and she felt her racing pulse under his fingers.

"And... I loathed everything about him." A hint of laughter formed in the back of her throat, but her eyes began to burn before the bitter sound could escape her lips. She forced her voice to remain calm even as she cast her gaze away dejectedly. "For a long time, he...well... He was different back then. He subdued and crushed me, and I must admit... it was a bit difficult. Sometimes I suffered..." She took a deep, trembling breath. "A person like you could never imagine the terrible things a man can do to a woman to break her spirit. You're the first man who has ever made me feel so safe, Cárcel. Thanks to you, I am living in such a happy dream..."

Cárcel stayed silent as he reached out and gently cupped her face with both hands. His calloused fingertips carefully wiped away the tears from her eyes, and Inés found herself desperately wanting to lean against him and crumble so that she wouldn't have to say another word. She barely managed to remove his larger hands from her cheeks, her eyes still downcast.

"It felt like a long, horrible nightmare... even more so than the life I am living now. And yet... your touch convinced me that I had imagined it all... that I could forget any of it had ever happened, even without having a doctor call me a madwoman or trying to brainwash myself. I managed to tell myself that I was living my life for the very first time instead of having a 'perfect life' for the first time. But...I think Oscar had that exact same dream."

This time, Cárcel's hands were much more firm and determined as they tilted her chin up until her eyes met his.

"He remembers me," she whispered.