Sold To The Cruel Prince

"Let me down," Aveline whispered, though her heart was pounding so hard she could feel it all the way up to her throat.

She did not know whether she was imagining it or whether Theron was doing this on purpose, but why did she keep ending up in situations like this lately?

No. She was certain she was not imagining it.

She was certain she had not imagined the way he had lingered near her chest, his breath warming her through the fabric of her dress. She was certain she had not imagined the brief, almost careless graze of his lips against her chin. And now—now she was certain he was looking at her mouth as though he intended to—

The memory of the kiss from the previous night rose in her mind without warning.

Her chest tightened until she could hardly breathe.

This was wrong.

Dangerous.

For her body, for her heart, for everything that was left of her composure.

She tried to wriggle free, but Theron did not seem inclined to let go. Her legs flailed awkwardly in the air, and at last, as if she were a startled fish thrashing itself free of a hook, he finally gave in and lowered her to the ground.

The moment her feet touched earth, Aveline turned and ran.

That soft, helpless boy she had once thought him to be was gone. In his place stood Theron...too steady, too close, too capable of making her heart stumble wildly whenever he looked at her like that.

She had taken only a few steps when something tugged at her from behind.

Aveline gasped and turned, only to realize Theron had hooked a finger into the neckline of her dress, stopping her in her tracks.

She startled, flailing again, trying to twist away from his hold, but he only watched her with an ease that made her feel even more flustered.

Then, to her utter indignation, he laughed.

"This way, little hare," he said, his tone nearly mocking, though there was unmistakable fondness beneath it.

Aveline halted and looked back at him.

But she could not quite meet his eyes for long. Every time she tried, her face heated all over again, and her resolve seemed to melt under the weight of his gaze. She turned as if to go forward, only to find his hand closing around hers.

He did not let her slip away again.

Theron looked at her quietly, a faint smile still lingering at the corners of his mouth.

This woman... He kept dancing to her tune, and he had no idea where it would all end.

Still, he found he did not mind the chase.

Not at all.

*****

Aveline noticed him immediately. He was the only one still on his knees.

His once-impeccable white silk tunic was stained with blood, and it took her a second to realize he wasn’t just kneeling on grass, he was kneeling on thorns. Actual thorns. The kind that looked personally offended by his existence.

While the others had already been dealt with, this one had been... preserved.

For her.

She narrowed her eyes, studying his face. Something about him tugged at her memory... And then it clicked.

Oh.

Oh.

This was the man who had auctioned her.

The same one who had reached for her clothes like she was nothing more than fabric to be inspected.

Aveline’s expression went flat.

Theron stepped beside her and, without ceremony, placed a dagger in her hand. "Do what you want," he said.

Aveline stared at the blade. "What I want..." she repeated faintly.

That was a very big sentence for someone who still got confused choosing breakfast.

The man in front of her broke into desperate pleas, offering gold, more gold, all the gold—his voice climbing higher and more pathetic with each word. He might have even offered his nonexistent dignity if he still had any left.

His begging turned into a scream when Theron casually struck his shoulder with the hilt of his sword, forcing his knees deeper into the thorns.

Aveline flinched.

The memory came rushing back, her own knees on the ground, her hands bound, that awful mask suffocating her, the humiliation burning hotter than anything else.

Her fingers tightened around the dagger.

She wanted revenge. She really did. But... how? Her mind went completely blank.

"Anything means anything," Theron reminded her.

She didn’t respond, just stood there staring, but the whitening of her knuckles betrayed her thoughts.

Good.

He wanted her to feel this. To want something. His little hare should learn she was allowed to take back what had been taken from her.

Aveline inhaled sharply.

Then...

With a scream that could probably scare birds out of three neighboring forests, she shut her eyes and stabbed forward with all her strength.

The man shrieked.

Then... stopped.

Slowly, cautiously, Aveline opened one eye. Then the other.

The dagger... had barely gone in. Not even half an inch.

She blinked.

"...Oh."

That was... underwhelming.

Determined not to be defeated by basic physics, she raised the dagger again. "This time," she muttered, mostly to herself.

She stabbed again, loudly, because apparently shouting was now part of the technique.

This time she kept her eyes open. The blade hit his shoulder. And... politely refused to go any further than his clothes.

Aveline turned her head very slowly toward Theron.

She had tried.

She truly had.

Theron stared at her. Then sighed. Then rolled his eyes.

"You have no trouble pushing me around," he said dryly, "but those stick arms can’t even pierce a man?"

Aveline gasped, offended. "When did I push you?!"

Theron gave her a look. A long look.

"A few minutes ago. Repeatedly."

She pouted. "That was different."

"You’re all bark and no bite," he muttered under his breath.

Then, just like that, his tone shifted. He turned to his knights.

"Strip him. Flog him. Break his hands. Then sell him as a slave—with nothing on him."

Aveline’s eyes widened.

"...See, you’re better at this," she said honestly. "I didn’t even think of that."

Theron rolled his eyes again.

Of course, she didn’t.

This was the same girl who could verbally dismantle a person’s soul but couldn’t stab through a shirt. Just yesterday, she almost turned those ladies into fine dust and now she was blinking at him like this.

But when he looked at her again, something in his gaze softened. She didn’t need to become cruel. Not like that.

"Let’s go," he said, taking her hand.

They walked deeper into the forest, the trees growing thicker, the light dimmer.

And then... Aveline heard it.

Strange sounds echoed from somewhere ahead. Low, twisted, almost human, but not quite. Definitely not animals. Unless animals had suddenly developed a taste for sounding deeply unsettling.

She slowed.

Then slowed more.

And before she knew it, she had completely abandoned dignity and attached herself to Theron’s back, clutching his sleeve like it was the last piece of safety in the world.

Theron glanced back.

Then forward again.

Then rolled his eyes.

Now she knows to stick to me.