Freya woke sometime in the middle of the night.
The room was dark, lit only by the dying glow of embers in the fireplace.
She stared at the canopy above her, restless.
Her thoughts wouldn't quiet.
Every time she closed her eyes, her mind raced—about escape, about this palace, about him.
With a frustrated sigh, she sat up.
Her gaze landed on the wine bottle still resting atop the small table from earlier.
Still half-full.
Maybe that would help.
Freya slipped from bed and padded quietly across the room, pouring herself another generous amount. The liquid shimmered in the dim firelight as she raised it to her lips.
The warmth spread through her quickly.
She hadn't eaten much.
She sat near the fire, curling one leg beneath her as she stared into the flames.
The room was silent.
Broken only by distant guards somewhere outside.
Then—
"Thirsty?"
Freya gasped violently, nearly spilling the goblet.
She whipped around.
Soren stood behind her.
Silent as death.
"Gods," she hissed, clutching her chest. "You move like a cat."
His lips twitched.
"A predator," he corrected softly.
He stepped closer.
"You'd do well to remember that."
Freya swallowed.
The wine suddenly felt much stronger.
"I couldn't sleep," she muttered.
"I noticed."
Her brow furrowed.
"You noticed?"
His gaze burned into hers.
"I was watching you."
Freya stared.
"…That's unsettling."
"Honest," he corrected.
He moved closer still.
Moonlight spilled across him, outlining broad shoulders and dark hair mussed from sleep.
He looked unfairly handsome.
Dangerously so.
"I was curious what you'd do," he murmured. "Try to flee again perhaps. Maybe stab me in my sleep."
"I was thirsty."
His eyes flicked toward the goblet.
"So I see."
He reached down, gently taking it from her fingers and setting it aside.
Then his gaze returned to her.
"You really have no idea what you're doing, do you?"
Freya frowned.
"I'm drinking wine."
His smile turned darker.
"You're alone with a man you've spent days provoking."
Her pulse skipped.
"You tried to run from me mere hours ago."
He leaned closer.
"And now you're sitting here looking at me like that."
Freya's breath caught.
"Looking at you like what?"
"Tempting."
The word came low.
Her stomach flipped.
"Or brave," she muttered before she could stop herself.
Soren stared.
Then slowly smiled.
"Brave?" he repeated.
His voice dropped.
"No."
He leaned close enough that his lips brushed her ear.
"Reckless."
A shiver ran through her.
His hand slid beneath her knees suddenly.
The other around her waist.
And suddenly she was lifted into his arms.
"Soren—!"
He carried her effortlessly to the bed and laid her down.
Then he climbed over her.
Caging her beneath him.
One hand planted beside her head.
The other brushing lightly along her jaw.
"You wanted consequences for your recklessness?" he murmured.
His crimson eyes burned into hers.
"Then pay attention."
Freya's breathing quickened.
He leaned down.
His lips brushed her jaw.
A whisper of contact.
Enough to send fire through her veins.
Then lower—
To the side of her neck.
Every touch careful.
As though he was savoring every second of her trembling beneath him.
Freya made the softest sound—
And immediately regretted it.
Because his lips curved against her skin.
"There it is," he murmured.
His hand slid to her waist, gripping gently but firmly.
"Your body reacts so sweetly for someone who claims to hate me."
Her face burned.
"S-Shut up—"
He chuckled lowly.
Then finally—
He kissed her.
And Freya's entire world stopped.
It was not gentle.
It was deep.
Possessive.
Demanding.
A kiss that stole every coherent thought from her mind.
Made her melt into the sheets beneath him despite every instinct screaming not to.
And just when she began to respond—
Just when she forgot herself enough to kiss him back—
He pulled away.
Freya blinked up at him breathlessly.
Soren stared down at her with dark amusement.
A wicked smile curving his lips.
"That," he murmured, "is your punishment."
Freya stared.
"What?!"
His grin widened.
"For trying to run."
Her mouth fell open.
"You—you—"
"I warned you my punishments would be creative."
He stood slowly, adjusting his shirt.
Leaving her flushed and breathless beneath him.
Completely stunned.
Then he leaned down one final time.
Brushing his lips near her ear.
"And if you run again…"
A pause.
His voice dropped lower.
"The next punishment will be worse."
Then he turned and walked away.
Leaving Freya alone in bed.
Heart pounding.
Body trembling.
Mind spinning.
And somehow—
more frustrated than if he had simply yelled at her.
Because he hadn't hurt her.
Hadn't truly punished her.
He had only left her wanting more.
And she hated that most of all.
***
Morning came far too quickly.
Freya woke slowly, warmth spilling through the curtains and across the tangled sheets.
For one blissful second—
she forgot.
Then it all came rushing back.
The wine. The kiss. His mouth on hers. That infuriating smug look after he left her breathless and confused.
Freya shot upright in bed.
Her face immediately burned.
"Oh gods…"
She buried her face in her hands.
How was she supposed to look him in the eye after that?
The door opened.
Soren entered dressed for the day, looking entirely too composed for someone who had ruined her peace of mind the night before.
And the moment his eyes landed on her—
he smirked.
That horrible, knowing smirk.
"Well," he drawled, "good morning."
Freya refused to look at him.
"Go away."
He chuckled.
"My, my. Someone woke up irritable."
She glared at him.
"This is your fault."
"Is it?"
"Yes!"
He crossed the room slowly, amused beyond reason.
"You seemed rather receptive to your punishment last night."
Freya whipped around so fast she nearly strained her neck.
"I did NOT—"
"You kissed me back."
Her entire face turned crimson.
"I-I did not—!"
"You did."
He sat casually on the edge of the bed beside her.
Leaning in just enough to make her panic.
"Quite enthusiastically, if I recall."
Freya grabbed the nearest pillow and smacked him with it.
"You're awful!"
He laughed.
Actually laughed.
The sound warm and rich and entirely too attractive.
"You should see your face right now."
"I hate you."
"No, you don't."
She froze.
His tone had changed.
Soren leaned in closer, his crimson eyes gleaming.
"You're simply confused."
Freya swallowed hard.
"I am not confused."
"No?"
His gaze dropped briefly to her lips.
"Then why can't you look at me?"
Her mouth opened.
Closed.
No answer.
His grin widened.
"Thought so."
Freya wanted to throw herself out the nearest window.
Soren stood then, adjusting his cuffs.
"Come. Breakfast is being prepared."
She stared.
"You expect me to eat with you after what happened?"
He gave her an amused look.
"My little wife, if I can kiss you senseless and still attend meetings afterward, you can survive breakfast."
Freya groaned and buried her face in the blankets.
Then he bent slightly, lowering his voice near her ear.
"And if you keep blushing like that…"
Her heart nearly stopped.
"I may be tempted to punish you again."
Freya squeaked.
Soren smirked victoriously.
Then straightened and headed for the door.
"Oh—and Freya?"
She glared murderously from the bed.
"Yes?"
His grin turned wicked.
"Try not to drink too much tonight."
Her eyes widened.
"You insufferable beast!"
His laughter echoed down the hall as he left.
Leaving Freya red-faced, flustered—
and hating how fast her heart was beating.
***
Freya remained in the bedroom long after Soren left.
Still flustered. Still burning. Still refusing to think about the way her heart had nearly stopped every time he leaned close.
Meanwhile—
Across the palace—
Soren entered his office with his usual calm stride.
The moment the heavy doors shut behind him—
his entire demeanor changed.
The warmth vanished.
The teasing amusement gone.
Eugene stood waiting by the window, already holding several reports.
He noticed immediately.
"Well," Eugene said dryly, "someone appears to be in a good mood this morning."
Soren gave him a flat look.
"Speak before I decide to ruin yours."
Eugene smirked faintly.
Then set the papers down.
"I've gathered everything you requested regarding House Viremont."
Soren moved behind his desk.
Steepled his fingers.
"Tell me."
Eugene's expression darkened.
"It's worse than we initially thought."
The room fell silent.
"She was isolated from most of the household," Eugene continued. "Regular punishments. Whippings. Confinement."
Soren's expression did not move.
But the air in the room turned heavy.
Eugene swallowed before continuing.
"The servants say her stepmother ordered most of it. Her father ignored it. The daughter encouraged it."
Then—
Soren smiled.
It was not warm.
It was not amused.
It was terrifying.
"How unfortunate for them."
Even Eugene straightened slightly.
Because that smile—
that smile was the one whispered about in war stories.
The one noblemen feared.
Soren leaned back in his chair.
His crimson eyes glinting darkly.
He stood slowly.
Walked toward the massive window overlooking the kingdom below.
Hands clasped behind his back.
Voice calm.
"Begin stripping House Viremont of their trade routes."
Eugene blinked.
Immediately understanding.
"You want economic ruin?"
"I want suffering."
"Pull royal support from their merchants. Delay shipments. Reject contracts."
His eyes narrowed slightly.
"I want them desperate within the month."
Eugene almost pitied them.
"And the father?"
Soren's gaze darkened.
"Summon him to court next week."
A pause.
"Let him think it is for favor."
Then his lips curled.
"I would like to watch his face when I destroy him personally."
Eugene let out a low whistle.
"You're frightening when attached to someone."
Soren shot him a glance.
"I am not attached."
Eugene snorted.
"Of course not."
Soren ignored him.
His gaze turned back to the window.
Thoughtful.
"She may not know it yet." he murmured, "But no one harms my wife without consequence."
Eugene smirked.
"Your wife, hm?"
Soren's expression remained unreadable.
Then slowly—
his lips curved.
Darkly.
"They should have treated her better."
A pause.
"Now they get to learn what happens when you mistreat something valuable before realizing its worth."
Eugene almost laughed.
Gods help House Viremont.
They truly had no idea what was coming.