Jason shakes his head softly, a faint smile playing on his lips.
“Your father has guards everywhere, ears and eyes on you at all times. I didn’t think you’d want him knowing that we haven’t… shared a bed.”
Heat rises to my cheeks, embarrassment flooding me as the reasoning becomes clear.
“Oh,” I mutter, turning from him quickly, trying to hide the shame clawing its way to the surface.
The guilt twists in my stomach like a dagger. I had been intimate with another man while Jason had been nothing but a gentleman. A pit forms in my stomach, shame settling thick and heavy. Warm hands on my arms pull me from my spiraling thoughts.
Jason steps closer, his lips brushing softly against my shoulder and collarbone, lingering for a brief moment before he sighs deeply. I turn slightly into his embrace, the tenderness in his touch disarming me. He presses a gentle kiss to my temple, his breath warm against my skin, before backing away.
“I’m sorry, Jason” I say quietly, my voice barely audible.
He doesn’t speak right away. Just watches me for a long moment, then tilts his head slightly, a flicker of confusion in his gaze.
“For what?” he asks softly.
I open my mouth, but nothing comes. Because I don’t know how to answer—at least not in a way that wouldn’t cut us both. For wanting someone else. For craving another man’s touch when Jason’s hands have only ever tried to be gentle. For still remembering the way Casper looked at me, even now, with Jason standing before me, stilltrying.
The shame tightens in my throat. It isn’t Jason’s fault. And yet, I cannot give him what he wants. What he deserves. Not when I’m tangled up in someone else’s shadow.
Jason steps toward me, his movements slow, careful, as though heknows how fragile this moment is. He stops just in front of me, looking down, his face expressionless—except for the sorrow that pulls at the corners of his mouth.
“I will not have you apologize for keeping your distance,” he says, his voice steady, touched more by sorrow than reproach. “Not after what I’ve done. I have no right to expect anything else.”
I frown, my brows pulling closer. “Jason, I?—”
But he cuts me off.
"I meant what I swore on our wedding night. However long it takes for me to be the man you truly want… I will wait."
I swallow hard, taking in his sincerity while masking my own deceit. Before I can respond, the door to our chamber creaks open. I freeze mid-motion, my brow furrowing as a guard with auburn hair and piercing blue eyes steps inside. His gaze meets mine immediately, a mixture of urgency and concern flashing across his face.
The silence in the room is thick, the faint traces of dark magic still lingering on the walls. Recognition dawns in the guard’s features as his gaze hardens. He couldn’t hear us through the door—my magic muted everything—and the quiet must have alarmed him.
“Are you all right, Princess?” he asks, unease lingering in his voice.
I nod quickly, trying to dispel the tension.
“Yes,” I reply, gesturing toward Jason, his hand still clenched around the hilt of his sword. “I am with my husband.”
The guard’s eyes flick to Jason for a brief moment before he straightens and nods.
"Of course, Princess," he says, bowing deeply, though his gaze remains on Jason as if he’s measuring every inch of him. There’s something in the guard’s expression—a skepticism that’s impossible to ignore.
Without another word, he steps back and closes the door behind him. The sound echoes in the stillness, but his presence lingers. I can feel the weight of his suspicion, the way his attention had shifted to Jason like he was calculating a threat. He doesn’t trust him—I see it now.
Jason moves swiftly to the door, his shoulders tense as he locks itwith a solid click. His focus is razor-sharp as he turns back to face me, his brows furrowed deeply.
“And you wonder why I wanted you to spell the room,” he says, his voice laced with a hint of frustration.
I shake my head and laugh softly under my breath, though unease still lingers. Something about the way the guard looked at us feels…off.Like there’s more going on than I understand.
“Are you okay?”
My brows draw together. The question lands heavier than I expect, thick with concern—and something else. Guilt begins to twist in my chest.
I should tell him. About Casper. About everything.
