Damned by Him Chapter 8: No turning back

"Princess."

The single word halted her as surely as a hand at her shoulder.

Rosaline’s steps stilled just short of the doorway, her spine straightening instinctively before she turned. The dining hall remained hushed behind her, the lingering clink of cutlery fading into the background as every gaze followed the brief exchange.

Xandros had risen.

There was nothing hurried in the way he moved....no urgency, no outward insistence.....yet sothing in the quiet certainty of his presence made refusal feel... impractical.

"I will escort you," he said.

It was not phrased as a request.

Across the table, Queen Vivienne’s lips curved into a satisfied smile, her fingers brushing lightly against the King’s arm in a subtle nudge. The King inclined his head in agreent.

"Excellent," he said. "It is fitting."

Rosaline felt a faint pressure gather behind her eyes, the beginnings of a headache pulsing steadily as though her thoughts themselves resisted the situation. Still, she bowed her head slightly in acknowledgnt.

"As you wish, Your Majesty, your Grace." bowing at the two at the sa ti.

And with that, she stepped forward, the Duke falling into stride beside her.

The corridors beyond the dining hall were quieter, the heavy air of ceremony replaced by a cooler stillness that seed to echo with every footstep. The faint glow of lanterns cast elongated shadows along the walls, stretching and bending as they walked.

For a while, neither of them spoke.

Rosaline focused ahead, her pace asured, her posture composed, though her thoughts churned restlessly beneath the surface. The silence should have been a relief....but instead, it felt like a prelude.

Then....

"Why do you not wish to marry ?"

The question ca without warning.

Direct.

Unembellished.

Rosaline’s brows drew together slightly, her gaze shifting sideways toward him as confusion flickered across her face.

He couldn’t possibly know.

There had been no ti. No witness—at least, none she had seen.

Carefully, she tilted her head.

"And who told you," she replied, her tone steady though edged with quiet deflection, "that I do not wish to marry you?"

That....

Was a mistake.

Because the effect was imdiate.

Xandros stopped.

Completely.

The abruptness of it forced Rosaline to halt as well, her steps faltering as she turned toward him.

He was looking at her now.

Fully.

And there was sothing in his expression...

sothing sharper, more alive.

"I know what happened today," he said.

Her heart skipped.

But her face remained composed.

"Nothing happened," she replied calmly. "The wedding will proceed as planned."

For a mont, he simply watched her.

Then.....

"You lie," he said softly. "As easily as your maid."

The words struck deeper than she expected.

Rosaline’s lips parted, ready to respond, to defend, to argue....

But she stopped.

Because of the way he was looking at her.

There was a glint in his eyes....subtle, almost amused, but edged with sothing that made her hesitate. It wasn’t accusation alone.

It was awareness.

She inhaled slowly, steadying herself, and without another word, she turned and continued walking.

Behind her, Xandros watched the slight tension in her shoulders, the way her steps beca just a fraction quicker.

Then he followed.

Effortlessly.

His longer strides closed the distance in seconds, bringing him once more to her side.

"There is a way," he said casually, as though continuing a conversation they had never paused, "to dissolve this marriage."

Rosaline stopped again.

This ti more abruptly.

Her head turned toward him, her expression sharpening with sothing unmistakable.

Interest.

"...What way?" she asked.

There it was.

Clear.

Unhidden.

Xandros chuckled quietly.

"Got you," he said.

Her expression hardened instantly, though her gaze did not leave his.

He let the silence stretch just long enough before continuing.

"If I refuse the marriage," he said simply.

Rosaline blinked.

"That’s all?" she asked, her tone edged with disbelief.

"Yes."

Her brows lifted slightly.

Then, more cautiously....

"...Are you willing to?"

The answer ca without hesitation.

"No."

Her eyes widened.

"...Why?"

Xandros tilted his head slightly, studying her in a way that felt far too deliberate.

"Because you interest ."

The words landed heavily.

Rosaline frowned, her confusion returning. "I am not particularly interesting."

"That," he replied smoothly, "is exactly what makes you so."

She stared at him.

And for the first ti, irritation flickered openly across her face.

This man...

Her thoughts ford sharply, unintentionally vivid....

He is a trouble maker.

Xandros’ lips curved faintly.

"Dear," he said, his tone almost teasing, "you should stop cursing in your thoughts."

Rosaline froze.

Completely.

For a mont, she could not even breathe.

"...What?"

He didn’t answer that.

Instead, he stepped closer, just enough to blur the boundary she had tried to maintain.

"I will see you at the altar tomorrow."

Before she could react, he lifted his hand, brushing his thumb lightly against his lips before pressing it gently against the side of her neck.

The touch was fleeting.

Warm.

Deliberate.

Then he stepped back, offering her a small, almost infuriatingly calm smile.

And winked.

Before turning away.

Leaving her there.

Frozen.

It took a mont.

A long mont.

Before Rosaline moved again.

The sound of a passing guard broke through her daze, pulling her back into herself as she blinked rapidly, her hand instinctively rising toward her neck where his touch had lingered.

She looked up.

And realized....

She was already in front of her room.

She had no mory of the final steps.

Quickly, she pushed the door open and slipped inside, closing it behind her with more force than necessary.

The silence returned.

But it was no longer calm.

Her thoughts raced, replaying every word, every look, every touch.

"...What is wrong with him?" she muttered under her breath.

She removed her gown hastily, letting it fall aside before collapsing onto the bed.

Her body felt restless.

Unsettled.

Sothing unfamiliar stirred beneath her ribs, an uneasy flutter she could not na.

Sleep did not co easily.

She turned.

Shifted.

Closed her eyes.

Opened them again.

Over and over.

Until eventually.....

Exhaustion claid her.

**********

A knock echoed faintly.

Distant.

Unwelco.

Rosaline frowned, shifting slightly beneath the covers.

Another knock.

Louder.

She groaned softly, pulling the blanket closer.

It had barely felt like monts since she fell asleep.

Then....

Light.

Her eyes opened slowly as a faint glow filtered through the curtains.

Morning.

Her breath caught.

Another knock followed.

"Yes.....co in," she called, her voice still thick with sleep.

The door opened.

A maid entered, bowing respectfully.

"My lady, it is ti."

Rosaline blinked.

"...Ti?"

The maid smiled gently.

"To prepare for your wedding."

Silence.

Rosaline stared.

What?

Internally.....

She scread.

The preparations began almost imdiately.

Water was drawn.

Her hair was washed, dried, and carefully styled, each strand pinned with precision until it frad her face in soft elegance. Her white hair shimred faintly under the light, enhancing the delicate sharpness of her features.

Then ca the gown.

White silk.

Flowing.

Intricately detailed with fine embroidery that seed to catch the light with every movent.

As it was placed upon her, Rosaline felt the weight of it....not just the fabric, but what it represented.

Finality.

Her reflection stared back at her from the mirror.

Her green eyes seed brighter against the pale softness of the gown, almost luminous, standing out vividly against the pristine white.

She looked.....

Beautiful.

Like a bride.

Like soone ready to begin a new life.

But inside....

Everything felt uncertain.

A guard’s voice broke through the stillness.

"Your highness, it is ti."

Rosaline inhaled slowly.

Deeply.

Once.

She glanced briefly toward the door.

Toward the space Lily should have been.

Her chest tightened.

I wish you were here...

Then she straightened.

And stepped forward.

The walk felt longer than it should have.

Each step echoing louder in her ears than the last.

The grand doors lood ahead, tall and unyielding, their surface gleaming faintly under the morning light.

She stopped just before them.

Her breath slowed.

Her hands stilled.

Because she knew.....

Once those doors opened...

There would be no turning back.