The hallway was quiet—eerily so—as Xander closed the guest room door behind him. He didn't linger. He didn't even spare another glance at Lillianne, who was curled up on the bed, feigning discomfort like she'd taken a blow to her fragile ego rather than just a short fall down the stairs.
He strode through the mansion in silence, his footsteps steady but heavy with thought. His brows were drawn tight as he opened the door to their shared bedroom.
Erin was sitting at the edge of the bed, her back straight and her expression closed off. Her fingers twisted together in her lap, white-knuckled. The second he walked in, she stood like she'd been preparing for war.
But the way her eyes glistened, the way she tensed as though bracing herself to be accused—it made something sharp twist inside him.
He exhaled and shook his head.
"You don't need to look like that," he said, voice quiet but sure. "I know you didn't do it."
Her eyes widened, startled, and she blinked as though she hadn't heard him correctly. "You… what?"
"I know you didn't push her."
For a moment, she just stood there, stunned. Then the shock melted into something softer—something fragile. And before she could stop herself, before she even registered what she was doing, Erin stepped forward and threw her arms around him.
It was quick. A flash of heat and vulnerability. But just as fast as it had happened, she pulled away. Her hands dropped. She took two full steps back, her head bowed as she muttered, "Sorry. I didn't mean to—"
"It's fine," he interrupted gently. "You don't need to apologize for that."
Erin raised her head slowly, studying him. "Why do you believe me?"
Xander moved closer, his gaze never leaving hers. "Because I know Lillianne. She's done this before… with my sister."
Erin's lips parted. "Your sister?"
He nodded. "There was a banquet. Years ago. My sister said something Lillianne didn't like. The next thing anyone knew, Lillianne was sobbing in the courtyard, saying my sister humiliated her in front of foreign royals. She twisted the whole thing around and nearly got her banned from court."
"And yet… your parents still want her to be your wife?" Erin asked, disbelief slipping into her tone.
"It's never been about what I want," Xander said bitterly. "It's about alliances. Appearances. Obedience."
Her throat bobbed. "So… when I was accused of things before, why didn't you believe me then? Why didn't you say anything?"
"I did believe you," he said, voice barely above a whisper. "I just didn't want to give her parents another reason to act out. Every move I make… it feels like a trap waiting to be triggered. I thought if I kept quiet, things wouldn't escalate. But I was wrong."
She stared at him, breath catching. "So you never doubted me?"
"Not for a second."
The words landed heavy between them. Erin took another step back, needing space, clarity, anything. But all she could think about was the way he'd said it—without hesitation. Without flinching.
She wrapped her arms around herself. "Then why do you stay with her? If you know what she is… why haven't you walked away?"
Xander gave a humorless laugh. "Because I don't have that luxury."
"Everyone has a choice."
"Not when the people around you keep you in invisible chains." His eyes searched hers. "You think I want this? You think I don't wish I could disappear, start over somewhere no one knows me, where I don't have to carry this damn title or please people who only see me as a tool?"
Silence stretched, thick and complicated.
Erin's voice was quiet. "You talk like you're trapped."
"I am," he whispered. "Just like you."
She froze.
Because for the first time, someone had said the thing she never dared admit. She hadn't chosen this path. She hadn't asked to carry the burden of her people's ruin. She wanted to go to school. Live in a city. Be ordinary. Not used.
Not a weapon.
And now, staring at him, she realized he looked just as tired. Just as trapped.
They stood there, the air between them humming with unspoken words.
"You're right," Erin murmured at last. "I didn't want this life either. I wanted to be free."
He took a slow breath. "Then why are you still here?"
She didn't answer right away. Her eyes flicked to the floor. "Because I have people who need me to do something they can't. And I'm the only one who can get close enough to finish it."
She caught herself, heart lurching, realizing how much she had revealed.
But if Xander noticed, he didn't press. His eyes just held hers, softer now. Sadder.
"So… what happens next?" he asked.
"I don't know," she whispered. "But I know I can't keep pretending that everything's fine."
"Neither can I."
And for a moment, they weren't enemies. They weren't heirs. They were just two broken souls trapped in a gilded cage, staring at each other across the mess of everything.
The silence returned, but it was different now. No longer cold.
Just… full.
Full of the things they weren't saying. And full of the things they were finally starting to feel.
"Can I ask you a for a favour?" He asked out of the blue.
"Of course." She nodded almost immediately.
"Can you treat me like a normal person when others are not around? Like calling me by name and being normal not cold?"
Erin was momentarily taken aback by his request. But after some time she nodded in agreement with him.
"Erin?"
"Xander."
They stood there for a long time. No more words. No more battles.
Just quiet satisfaction.
Eventually, Erin lowered her gaze and stepped back toward the bed. "I should sleep. It's been… a long day."
Xander nodded once, stepping aside. "Yeah. Me too."
They didn't speak again as they each found their corners of the room. No tension. No bickering. Just silence.
But not the kind they used to share.
This silence wasn't cold or resentful. It was full. But it was honest.
And for the first time in weeks, Erin pulled the blanket over her without feeling like a stranger in this place. Not because it felt like home—but because, for once, someone had seen through the walls she hadn't meant to build.
And maybe that was a start.