Chapter 11 : the prince of the castle

Chapter 11 : the prince of the castle
The knife in my hand slipped when the kitchen doors slammed open. For a moment, I thought Morgana had come back to finish what she started, but the sight that met me was far worse.

Skye.

His eyes swept the room like a storm cloud rolling in, searching, demanding, and when they landed on me the air in the kitchen seemed to vanish. Without a word, he crossed the space in long, unhesitating strides.

“Skye—” I began, but he didn’t let me finish.

His hand closed around my wrist, strong and unrelenting, yanking me away from the counter. The knife clattered against the chopping board, a shard of onion sliding off with it. Gasps rose behind me as I stumbled, nearly losing my footing, but he kept dragging me forward.

“Let go of me,” I hissed under my breath, pulling against his grip, but he didn’t loosen.

The kitchen erupted. The maids whispered like sparrows, their voices pitched high with shock and delight.

“Look at that, she doesn’t even resist him.”
“Dragged off like a mistress caught red-handed.”
“Doesn’t she have any shame?”

Their words lashed my back as we passed through the door, but Skye didn’t falter. He didn’t look at them. He didn’t look at me either. His jaw was tight, his shoulders braced like stone, and the silence between us was louder than anything the maids could say.

I dug my heels in as we moved down the corridor. “Skye, stop. People are staring.”

He didn’t stop.

I tried again, my voice rising. “You’re making it worse.”

Nothing.

He hauled me up the stairs, past curious guards and servants who watched openly, their expressions mixed with intrigue and disapproval. My cheeks burned hot, not from Morgana’s slap this time, but from the humiliation of being paraded through the castle like a prisoner with chains around her wrists.

When we reached his door, he pushed it open with his shoulder and pulled me inside. The heavy wood slammed shut behind us, shutting out the stares but not the weight of them.

I ripped my wrist from his grip, stumbling back a step. “What is wrong with you?”

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he crossed the room and grabbed a clean cloth from a chest, then poured water from a jug over it. When he turned back to me, the mask of fury on his face had cracked, revealing something quieter beneath.

“Sit,” he said, his voice rough.

“I’m not sitting.”

“You’re bleeding.”

I touched my cheek where Morgana’s slap had landed. My fingers came away faintly pink. The sight made my stomach twist.

Skye stepped closer, holding the damp cloth out like a peace offering. “Let me take care of it.”

“No.” I slapped the cloth from his hand. It hit the floor with a dull thud, leaving a dark patch on the rug.

His eyes widened, then narrowed. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I’m not being ridiculous,” I snapped. My voice cracked, too sharp, too loud, but I didn’t care. “I’m done with this. With you. With all of it.”

His jaw tightened. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“I know exactly what I’m saying.” My chest heaved, the air burning my lungs. “I can’t keep doing this. Sneaking around, pretending it doesn’t matter, while everyone laughs at me behind my back. I’d rather be alone than deal with this.”

Something flickered in his expression... anger, frustration, maybe even desperation, but he buried it quickly. “We just need to be more careful. That’s all. Morgana won’t try again.”

“You don’t get it,” I said, shaking my head. “I don’t want to be careful. I don’t want to live like this. I have a mate now.”

The words left my mouth before I could second-guess them, and they landed like stones thrown against glass.

His face went pale, then darkened. “A mate,” he repeated slowly. “You mean Onyx.”

“Yes.”

For a moment, silence filled the room, thick and suffocating. Then Skye’s voice erupted, raw and vicious.

“Onyx is not your mate.” He spat the words as if the name itself tasted foul. “He is not anything but a snake who slithers where he doesn’t belong.”

“You don’t know him.”

“I know enough.” His hand curled into a fist at his side. “He’s dangerous, Blair. You think he’s being nice to you, but he’s not. He never is. He doesn’t want you, he wants leverage. He will use you until you’re broken and then he’ll toss you aside.”

“Better that than this,” I shot back.

That struck something in him. He stepped closer, his voice lowering but not softening. “You think he’s better than me? You think Onyx can protect you?”

I lifted my chin. “He’s my mate.”

Skye’s eyes burned with something I couldn’t name. “I am the prince of this castle,” he said, his voice trembling with fury. “Do you understand what that means? I could destroy him if I wanted. I could take him apart piece by piece until there’s nothing left but ashes. Don’t you ever compare me to him.”

His words thundered in the room, echoing against the stone walls. My pulse pounded in my ears, and I took a step back, needing distance from the fire in his eyes.

“Then do it,” I whispered. “If you’re so powerful, then do it. But don’t drag me down with you.”

We stood there, facing each other, the air between us charged and heavy. My cheek throbbed where Morgana had struck me, but it wasn’t the pain that made my eyes sting. It was everything else, the shame, the fear, the anger, the weight of being pulled between men who saw me as something to fight over instead of someone who deserved peace.

Skye opened his mouth as if to say something more, but before he could, a sudden pounding rattled the door.

Three hard, heavy knocks that shook the frame.

We both froze.

The silence that followed was louder than the storm of words we’d just thrown at each other.

Another knock came, harder this time, echoing like a warning.

Skye’s head snapped toward the door, his entire body tense. I didn’t move. I couldn’t.

Whoever stood on the other side of that door wasn’t just knocking. They were demanding.

And then the knocking came again.