The palace was quiet in the early hours of the morning, but for Elara, sleep was a distant memory. She sat by the window of her chambers, staring out at the misty gardens below. Alistair's words from the night before echoed in her mind: You are mine. No one else can have you.
Her heart clenched. She loved Alistair, or at least, she thought she did. But his love was suffocating, consuming her in ways she hadn't anticipated. She felt trapped, bound by a devotion that bordered on madness. His possessiveness wasn't merely an expression of passion—it was a claim, one that left her with no room to breathe.
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