The queen had spoken.
And this time?
She was on my side.
The air in the ballroom stank of old paint, sweat, and something bitter—fear maybe.
Or slime.
The matron of the Historical Society stepped forward, her eyes scanning the wreckage like a general surveying the aftermath of a battlefield.
Her pearls gleamed, but her voice? Ice-cold steel.
“My paintings,” she snapped, pointing a manicured finger. “That wallpaper is over three hundred years old. Imported. FromFrance.You girls think this is fun and games? I will be adding charges.”
She pulled a list from her handbag like it had been prepped in her dreams. “Defacement. Improper conduct. Destruction of a registered historic landmark. Andcutting electricityto a protected building—criminal mischiefandendangerment.”
You could actuallyseethe parents’ faces fall.
All their money.
All their privilege.
And none of it could shield them from what they knew was coming. Arrests. Court dates. Mugshots.
Someone whimpered. Another one’s mom turned on her heel andslappedher daughter straight across the cheek. Phones were buzzing with calls to lawyers. The society matron just kept writing.
And me?
I just stood there. For once, letting everyone else scramble to fix the messtheymade. No defense needed. No last words.
Just truth, finally cutting through like sunlight.
Beside me, Kannon let out a slow exhale.
“I’m sorry,” he said softly. “When I asked you out tonight, this… wasn’t what I pictured.”
I turned to him, tugged him just a little out of the chaos.
“Kannon…” I started gently. “I like you. I really do. You’ve been amazing.”
He looked down. His jaw tensed.
“But it was Leo first,” I said, softer. “It’s always been him. He got to me first.”
Kannon’s lips twitched, and then he leaned in and brushed a slow, sad kiss against my forehead.
“I know that, Jade,” he whispered. “Keep in touch, though?”
I nodded, trying not to cry.
And then I saw him.
Leo. Moving through the crowd like it was war. He had left me briefly to be the knight. The fighter going into war for me. A war Leo knows how to win.
Talking to the police. Speaking to the Historical Society’s matron. Standing next to his mother, who didn’t even blink when the press showed up outside. His suit was rumpled now, but he was commanding. Steady.Mine.
I didn’t even know he’d returned until I felt his fingers lacing through mine.
