Page 101 of The Alpha's Fallen Spell
“And in return, I’d have to give up everything here. Move to the palace, become some kind of royal consort, live under constant guard.” She shakes her head. “That’s just another kind of prison.”
“It doesn’t have to be. We could find a compromise—”
“Could we?” She sets down her fork, fixing me with an intense stare. “Tell me honestly, Erik. If I accept your matingmark, how long will I be allowed to stay here? How long before duty calls you back to the palace, and I’m expected to follow?”
I want to lie, to tell her she can keep her independence indefinitely. But she deserves the truth. “Eventually, yes. The mate of the army commander has responsibilities. But we could visit here regularly, maybe keep the café running with managers—”
“So, I’d become a tourist in my own life. Visiting the business I built like it’s a hobby instead of my purpose in life.”
The hurt in her voice cuts deep. She’s right, and we both know it. The world I come from doesn’t easily accommodate the kind of independence she has carved out for herself here.
“I’m trying to protect you,” I say quietly.
“I know. And I appreciate it. But I need you to understand something.” She leans forward, her expression earnest. “I spent twenty years having every choice made for me. Every meal, every movement, every breath monitored and controlled. Building this life—making my own decisions, succeeding or failing on my own terms—it’s the most important thing I’ve ever done.”
“More important than living?”
“More important than existing without purpose.” Her voice is steady, certain. “I’d rather have one year of freedom than fifty years as someone’s protected pet.”
The comparison stings, but I understand what she’s trying to tell me. Freedom isn’t just about physical safety for her. It’s about agency, about the right to choose her own path even if that path is dangerous.
“What about last night?” I ask. “Did that mean nothing to you?”
Her cheeks turn red once more, but she doesn’t look away. “It can’t happen again.”
“I don’t understand.”
She rises from the table and starts to clear the dishes with agitated movements. “Your friend Leanna visited me the other day to tell me that my café isn’t as important as you. That I should give up everything I’ve built just to be your bed mate because my dreams are clearly worthless.”
I stiffen. “Leanna said that.”
“Not in those exact words.” She shrugs. “But the intent was clear. She wanted me to roll over.” When Fiona looks at me, her eyes are flashing with rage. “This café may be meaningless to all of you, but I will not sacrifice my dream for you, Erik. I don’t care why you rejected me. I don’t care whether your true reason was because you didn’t want to leave me behind.” She turns around, fills the sink, and starts washing our plates.
Anger stirs within me. Leanna had no right…
I stand up and move closer until I’m directly behind Fiona. “What if I told you I’d give up my position? That I’d stay here with you?”
Her hands go still in the soapy water. “I’d say you’re lying to yourself. And eventually, you’d resent me for it.”
“You don’t know that.”
She rinses her hands and then turns around to face me. “We can’t be together. Not without one of us sacrificing everything we are. I won’t ask that of you, Erik. I won’t be responsible for you abandoning your duty again.”
“You wouldn’t be responsible. It would be my choice.”
“A choice you’d regret.” Her voice is certain, final. “You’re a man of honor, Erik. It’s who you are. And eventually, that honor would demand you choose between me and the greater good. We both know what choice you’d make.”
Her words cut deep because part of me knows she may be right. I am a man of duty, of honor. When the kingdom calls, I answer. It’s who I am, who I’ve always been.
But looking at her now—this incredible woman who survived hell and built paradise from nothing—I know something has fundamentally changed in me. The kingdom will always matter, but she matters more.
“You’re wrong,” I tell her. “About what I’d choose. About what is most important to me now.”
She searches my face, looking for some sign of certainty. “How can you be sure?”
“Because I’m here.”
She hesitates, and I grip her hands in mine.
