Love's Reckoning

The air in Prince Reed’s makeshift prison camp hung thick and heavy, laced with the metallic tang of fear and the suffocating scent of damp earth. Ophelia huddled beside Rohesia, her thin shawl offering little comfort against the gnawing chill that seeped into her bones. Each gust of wind seemed to whisper taunts, echoing the disbelief that had settled in her heart like a stone. Ashvin. He wouldn’t come. The words, a bitter refrain, played on repeat in her mind. He had never shown her anything but a chilling, calculated indifference. Why would this be any different? He was a prince, a man of strategy and ambition, not a knight errant rushing to the rescue of a forgotten wife.

Rohesia, her face pale and etched with worry, squeezed Ophelia’s hand. “He will come, Ophelia. I know he will.”

Ophelia offered a weak, unconvincing smile. “You are too kind, Rohesia. But we must prepare ourselves. If he does not… we must be strong.” The thought of Ashvin’s face, that stoic mask he wore so effortlessly, was a constant ache. Had she been a fool to allow herself to hope? To see glimmers of something more in those intense blue eyes, only to have them snatched away by his perpetual distance?