The One Thing He Couldn’t Steal

The letter wasn't sealed.

That alone told me everything.

Thorian always sealed his letters. Wax, signature, pressed in gold. This one was folded and tucked under my door, like a secret he couldn't say out loud.

I picked it up without a word.

"Come to the palace gardens. No guards. No titles. Just you."

No mask, no power games.

He didn't want the girl who challenged him in court.

He wanted me.

When I arrived, the palace was quiet. Almost afraid.

Lanterns glowed low in the greenhouse, painting the glass walls in soft amber. The door was cracked open, waiting.

He stood inside — alone.

No crown. No armor. Just him.

"You came," he said.

I walked in slowly, gloved hands folded behind me. "You asked."

He watched me with that look again — the one that lingered on my mouth a second too long, the one that saw me.

"You're not afraid of me," he said.

"Why would I fear a man who couldn't stop me?"

He stepped closer. "You shouldn't talk like that."

"Why? Does it make you want me more?"

He didn't answer.

But he didn't deny it, either.

There was a silence between us.

The kind that holds tension — not distance.

He reached for my hand — slow, like I was a flame he didn't want to scare.

But I pulled away before he touched me.

"You can't claim me just because you want me, Thorian."

He blinked at the sound of his name on my lips — no title.

"Then how do I have you?" he asked, voice low.

I smiled.

"You don't."

He stared. Maybe at the challenge.

Maybe at the promise underneath it.

Because I hadn't said never.

Just not yet.