CHAPTER 333: FASCINATION

ADAM

I watched them leave. The doors had barely shut when the silence descended again, heavier than before. Her scent still lingered—warm spice and earth after rain.

Sage. Even the name was an irony. A woman like that didn’t need wisdom to survive—she needed restraint, and she had none of it.

I leaned back in my chair, pushing the plate away, the remnants of food untouched. Her words kept circling my head like vultures. The men I’d sent to inquire about her—killed. Or so she’d said, with that taunting smirk, like she wanted me to doubt myself, to question the authority I held in my own pack. And damn it, it worked.

She hadn’t denied it either, not really. Her tongue danced on that thin line between truth and provocation. Maybe the men were dead. Maybe they weren’t. Maybe she’d killed them herself, that brazen witch.

The hall was still. Even the brides had stopped whispering for a while. But the peace didn’t last.

"Are you all seeing this now?" Claire’s voice sliced through the silence, sharp and grating. Her hand slammed down on the table, rattling the silverware. "Do you all finally understand what I have been saying? She’s dangerous! Insolent! And you just sit there!"

I didn’t answer her. Not immediately.

"She’s mad," Lilian hissed, eyes wide, cheeks flushed with outrage. "Did you hear how she spoke to you, my king? How she mocked this house, this table?"

"Death is the only fitting punishment," Naomi added, chin raised in defiance. "You should have her executed, Adam. Her and that stupid friend of hers."

I let them talk. All of them. Their words layered upon each other until they became white noise. I stared at the cup in front of me, half-empty, its contents gone cold.

It wasn’t fear that had me silent. It was thought. Calculation. That woman was trouble, yes, but she was also the fire that drew moths. The contest had never burned this bright before she came.

"Impossible," Noah said suddenly, cutting through the brides’ demands with his easy drawl. "You all forget this isn’t some private duel in the courtyard. The contest is live—streamed. Watched. Bet on. Her death now would cause an uproar, ruin the ratings."

He smiled slightly, leaning back, as if the whole thing amused him. "If you want her dead, then pray she loses. Darius is still in the field. And we all know he doesn’t go easy on anyone, including women."

Claire turned sharply toward him, fury flashing in her eyes. "So you would rather let that witch live?"

Noah only shrugged. "She’s good for business."

Daniel grunted in agreement, though his eyes never left the door Sage had disappeared through. "That one is wild. You can’t kill a storm before it’s done raging. You wait. Let her tire herself out. Or let Darius do it for you."

The brides looked appalled, but I understood what Daniel meant. I’d seen storms before. The kind that tore apart forests but left the soil richer when they passed. Sage was one of them. Beautiful, deadly, untamed.

I pushed my chair back, ignoring Claire’s muttering. "I’ve lost my appetite," I said simply, standing.

The servants froze, unsure if that was a cue to clear the table or flee. I didn’t care. My gaze lingered on the doorway one last time before I left the dining hall.

Claire’s heels clicked behind me. Of course she followed.

"Adam, we need to talk about her—"

"No." My voice came out harsher than I intended, but I didn’t take it back.

She blinked, startled, but pressed on anyway. "She’s manipulating you. Can’t you see that? The way she looks at you, the way she—"

"Enough." I stopped in the corridor, turning to face her fully. "If all you came here to talk about is Sage, then you can leave my quarters right now."

She faltered. For a heartbeat, the mask of grace cracked. "That’s all you have to say to me?"

I didn’t respond. I was tired. Tired of her voice, tired of the way she thought jealousy made her desirable. I continued walking, the sound of my boots echoing down the hall. She trailed after me anyway.

When we reached my chamber, she tried again—this time with touch. Her fingers brushed my arm, sliding deliberately slow, the scent of her perfume cloying. "You’re tense," she murmured. "Let me help you relax."

I caught her wrist before she could go further. "Not tonight."

Her eyes flashed. "Why?"

"I said go, Claire..."

Something in my tone must have broken through her pride. She stared at me for a long, brittle moment, then exploded. "She’s turning you into a fool, Adam! You don’t even see it! That woman—she’ll be your downfall!"

"Leave."

She hesitated, trembling with rage, but when I raised my voice—really raised it—she flinched back. I never shouted. Never needed to. But tonight, I did.

Claire fled without another word.

I stood there for a long while after she left, staring at the closed door. Then I called out, "Garron."

My chief guard appeared within seconds, bowing his head. "My king."

"See to it that Claire does not return to my quarters tonight. Or any night soon."

"As you wish."

When he left, I exhaled, long and deep, stripping off my jacket and running a hand over my face. The silence was loud again. I went to the washroom, turned on the shower, and stepped in. The cold water hit my skin like needles, but I didn’t turn it warm. I needed the sting. I needed the clarity.

Images of Sage swirled behind my eyes. The defiance in her voice. The way her laughter had filled the hall like wind through glass. No fear. No submission. Even the way she held her cup, with fingers steady and eyes that challenged without saying a word.

Who was she really?

A royal, she said. From where, she didn’t answer. A contestant, yes—but one who carried herself like a queen.

I thought of the men I’d sent. Four of them, all trained scouts. None had returned. My jaw tightened. If she had indeed killed them, that made her dangerous. She couldn’t be underestimated.

When I finally stepped out of the shower, the mirror had fogged over. I wiped it clear and looked at myself. A king staring back, but for the first time in a long while, I wasn’t sure who was really in control anymore.

I dressed simply, tossed the towel aside, and walked to the bed. Sleep didn’t come. I reached for a book instead, flipping through pages without reading. My mind was elsewhere.

On her.

On how she’d smiled when I’d lost patience. On how she’d known exactly what she was doing.

Hours passed. The moon shifted higher. I must have dozed off eventually, because when the dream came, it felt too real to be just imagination.

Darkness. Thick, suffocating. I was fighting it, blade in hand, slashing through shapes I couldn’t name. Then faces began to form from the shadows.

Maya. Bloodied. Accusing.

Dora. Screaming. Hating.

And then—Sage.

She was laughing. Not out of joy, but mockery. A laugh that sliced through the dark, cold and sharp.

I lunged toward her, shouting something—what, I didn’t know—but before I could reach her, the darkness swallowed me whole.

The sound of her laughter was what woke me.

I sat up, breath ragged, sweat slicking my chest. The room was silent, empty. Only the echo of her voice lingered in my head.

And for the first time in years, I couldn’t tell if it was fear or fascination that gripped me tighter.