Page 51 of Destiny Redeemed
The prince had practically moved into my room, setting up a makeshift office at a small desk he’d brought in. He spent every free moment there, working silently on papers I couldn’t see. His golden curls caught the sunlight as he bent over his work, his brow furrowed in concentration.
It was maddening.
Gone was his usual smirk, his teasing remarks. Instead, he’d simply check if I’d eaten, his sharp eyes scanning my plate. If I hadn’t finished my meal, he would fix me with a stern glare, arms crossed, silently daring me to test his patience. And if I so much as hesitated, that glare would remain until I begrudgingly took another bite. Only then would he return to his paperwork, as if he hadn’t just won some silent battle of wills.
By the third day, I couldn’t take it anymore.
“Are you planning to ignore me forever?” I blurted out, my voice cutting through the silence like a knife.
Anderic’s head snapped up, his blue eyes unreadable. For a moment, I thought I saw a flicker of surprise in his gaze. But then his expression smoothed over, and he raised an eyebrow at me.
“I wasn’t aware you required constant entertainment, Lady Ilyana,” he said, his voice carefully neutral. “Shall I fetch a court jester for your amusement?”
Oh, he’s mad.
I knew he was still angry—furious even—about what had happened. But instead of expressing it in words, he was hovering like an overbearing nursemaid, monitoring my meals, standing guard as if I might disappear again.
My gaze flickered to the journal on my bedside table, my new goals scrawled in fresh ink. Anderic had unknowingly become an integral part of them.
“That depends. Are you volunteering?” I quipped, hoping to lighten the tension.
Big mistake.
Anderic’s eyes flashed dangerously as he stood, slamming his palms on the desk. “Do you think this is a joke, Ilyana? You nearly died!”
I flinched, more from the intensity of his gaze than his words. The usual playful glint in his blue eyes was replaced by a storm of fury and… was that fear?
“What were you thinking, going to the Red Cross gang alone?” He continued, his voice rising. “You should have come to me with any information you had! Do you have any idea what could have happened if we hadn’t found you in time?”
I opened my mouth to retort, but Anderic wasn’t finished.
“You’re not invincible, Ilyana! You can’t just throw yourself into danger without a thought for the consequences. What ifthey had killed you? What if—” His voice cracked, and he turned away, running his hands through his golden curls.
The room fell silent save for Anderic’s ragged breathing. I sat there, stunned by his outburst. In all our interactions, I’d never seen him lose control like this.
When he spoke again, his voice was low, almost a whisper. “I couldn’t lose you.”
My heart skipped a beat. The raw emotion in those four words left me breathless. I watched as Anderic paced the room, his agitation evident at every step. His fingers raked through his hair again, messing up the perfect curls.
I wanted to say something—anything—to ease the tension, but words failed me. What could I possibly say to that?
Before I could gather my thoughts, Anderic strode towards the door. He paused with his hand on the handle, still not meeting my gaze.
“I need some air,” he muttered.
As he yanked the door open, I caught a glimpse of Lennox standing guard outside. Anderic’s voice carried back to me as he addressed the captain.
“Keep an eye on her, Lennox. Make sure she doesn’t do anything… reckless.”
And then he was gone, leaving me alone with the echo of his words and the lingering scent of his cologne.
I stared at the closed door, my mind reeling. What just happened? The usually composed prince had practically come undone before my eyes. And all because…what? Because he was worried about me?
I wouldn’t fool myself into believing he felt nothing for me—damn it, webothknew there was something between us. But my misplaced pride and stubborn sense of self-preservation kept me from saying aloud what I already knew in my heart.
But try as I might, I couldn’t shake the memory of his voice breaking as he said, “I couldn’t lose you.” The raw emotion in those words seemed too genuine to be faked.
I wished he would justsayit—whatever he was feeling. But then, wouldn’t that make me a hypocrite? I was doing the exact same thing.
