Chapter 22
Apr 30, 2025
Lyra (Seraphina)
Lucien stood there, arms crossed, jaw clenched, as I told him I was leaving.
I expected him to argue again. To mock me. Maybe even tell me not to let the door hit me on the way out.
But instead, he scoffed. That sharp, bitter scoff that always made my blood boil.
“So that’s it?” he said, voice cold.
I stared at him, heart heavy. “I didn’t choose this, Lucien. I never did. I want to marry by my choice, not by someone else’s command.”
His eyes narrowed. “You’re running away.”
“No. I’m finally walking towards something,” I replied. “My father’s kingdom needs me now. I need me now.”
His face hardened, voice dropping low. “I’m not letting you go.”
My heart stuttered. “What?” I breathed.
“You heard me.” His words were firm, but his eyes flickered with something—fear? Anger? Something I couldn’t name.
“You don’t even like me,” I said, forcing out a bitter laugh. “You’ve spent weeks pushing me away. Mocking me. Flirting with other girls. You said the kiss meant nothing.”
He didn’t respond. Not even a twitch. He just turned around and walked out of the room. No explanation. No argument. Just silence.
And that silence echoed louder than any scream. I stood there, confused, frustrated, aching.
If he doesn’t want me… why stop me?
***
Lucien’s POV
I locked the gates to the training yard behind me, the cold metal clanging like thunder in the quiet night.
I didn’t want anyone seeing me like this.
Not the guards. Not the warriors. Especially not her.
I picked up a blade from the rack and threw it hard. It hit the wooden target with a loud thunk right in the center.
I grabbed another.
Thunk.
Again.
Thunk.
Each throw was sharper, angrier, harder. “She wants to leave,” I muttered to myself. “Good. Let her go.”
But I didn’t believe it. Not even a little.
The image of her in that moonlight-colored gown at the banquet flashed through my head. The fire in her eyes when she told me she wanted to marry by choice. The way her voice cracked when she said I didn’t even like her.
She wasn’t wrong. I pushed her away. Again and again. Because I was afraid. Because I wasn’t supposed to feel anything. This wasn’t love. It was politics. Strategy.
She was never mine. She was assigned to me.
A duty. An alliance. But then… why did it hurt?
Why did it feel like my chest was splitting open the second she said she was leaving?
Why couldn’t I breathe when I saw her walking away?
Why did the thought of waking up tomorrow and not seeing her face make me feel like I was unraveling from the inside?
Another blade. Harder this time.
THUNK.
I leaned forward, bracing myself on the bench, sweat dripping down my back.
“Then why,” I whispered to the wind, to the trees, to the night that never
