Never Yours ✔️

Ch. 48

 Serden had never lied to her.

He had never tricked her, never deceived her.

Don't trust him.

Why?

He could be jealous, attempting to ruin her friendship with Witherrose like he'd ruined all her other relationships. But wouldn't he just threaten her to stay away from him?

Why this note? Why this phrase? Why this method of delivery?

He didn't want anyone to know he had contacted her.

Don't trust him.

He was warning her.

But against what? Against who?

Who was Sorven Witherrose?

And what did he want with her?

Arysa shooed the crow away and went back inside. She smiled when Sorven turned to face her, wiping her expression of every concern, doubt, and worry.

He handed her a glass of water. She did not drink it.

Serden had always known more about the war than he was telling her.

And he was dead bent on keeping her alive.

He had tried to kill everyone she'd ever cared about.

Why didn't he just kill Sorven?

What was he afraid of?

She eyed Witherrose as he lounged on her couch and she leaned up against the bookshelf.

"Your parents taught you the Mystic Arts?" She asked.

He nodded. "Yeah. My dad was Vella actually, so it kind of ran in the family." He glanced over at her. "Come sit down, Arysa."

She hesitated, and something flickered in his eyes, but it vanished as soon as she started towards him. She sat down in the armchair across from him.

"Aren't you going to drink your water?" Sorven's finger rimmed the edge of his glass. "I thought you were thirsty?"

Arysa set it down on the table before her. "It passed."

His brows furrowed, but he said nothing.

She feared her unease showed on her face, but as he relaxed into the couch, she let down some of her guard. But she took note of where in her room she'd placed the daggers. She had none on her.

She had thought she was safe with him.

"Perhaps tomorrow you could come train the recruits with me?" Sorven smiled. "They really seemed to enjoy having you as a teacher."

Arysa scoffed. "Well, I am the princess."

"And heir to the throne."

Arysa froze. Her eyes snapped to his, and it hit her like it hadn't ever hit her before.

Her mother was dead. The king was dead. Ashlyn was dead. Demian ruled. She was the only other royal family member left.

That made her next in line to be queen.

"Oh my god." She breathed, shaking her head.

"Had you not realized that before?" Sorven asked with a slight downturn of his lips. "I'm sure Demian will start making preparation soon for the ceremony to announce you as the Crown Princess of Rahaida."

"I never wanted that title." Arysa whispered. Her eyes lowered to her hands, and they trembled.

That had always been Demian's, that title. It should have always belonged to him until his father grew old and weary and passed gently into the beyond.