The fire in Tristan's eyes could have set the world ablaze, his pupils dilated with pure hatred as his lips curled into a snarl. It's a look that sends shivers down my spine and not in a good way. "Don't poke your nose in my business, you Ironhold scum," he spits at Alexander. "I was talking to my woman. This doesn't concern you."

My stomach churns when I hear him call me "his" woman. The very thought of belonging to this despicable man makes my skin crawl. I can't even begin to fathom how Princess Seraphina could've ever loved him.

Alexander's icy expression remains unchanged, but his eyes narrow ever so slightly. With a swift movement, he applies pressure on Tristan's arm, eliciting a scream from the knight. A wicked sense of satisfaction floods through me as I watch Tristan's pain unfold. How I wish it were my hands causing him such torment. I wonder if Alexander's rage is fueled by being called "Ironhold scum" – a derogatory term Asterians used during the Crimson Sun War and still thrown around today.

"I believe it does," Alexander hisses, his voice steady yet deadly enough to make me tremble involuntarily. "Since you're talking to my fiancee."

My heart skips a beat and goosebumps erupt over my skin. I can't believe what I just heard! My breath catches as the heat rises from the tips of my toes, spreading throughout my body. It's like all the air has been sucked out of the garden, leaving me gasping for breath. Did Alexander really just say that? That we're engaged?! I open my mouth to say something, anything, but my words are stuck in my throat.

"What?!" Tristan exclaims, his eyes widening in shock. The surprise on his face quickly morphs into frustration and his jaw clenches, a vein throbbing in his temple. He tries to move but Alexander's grip on him doesn't falter. "That's impossible," Tristan huffs at the prince, his words dripping with contempt. "You're lying. Seraphina would never even go near Ironhold scum like you."

My heart races as I frantically search for any clues that can help me understand what's happening. Why would Alexander lie about something like this? What could he possibly gain by claiming we're engaged?

Before I can find an answer, Alexander moves quickly, pushing Tristan hard enough that he falls onto his back with a thud. I watch as if it were happening in slow motion, taking in every detail: the way Tristan's arms fly through the air, the glint in the Prince's amber eyes and his lips sealed tight as he positions himself protectively by my side.

He takes my right hand in his, and the warmth of his touch sends a shiver up my arm. His fingers are strong yet gentle, and I can't help but marvel at the contrast. Then, without warning, he pulls me closer to him, one arm wrapping around my waist from behind. The scent of burnt cedarwood mixed with something raw and primal fills my nostrils, making my heartbeat quicken. My cheeks burn with a furious blush, and an unfamiliar tingling sensation stirs in the pit of my stomach.

I have no idea what to make of it or what to do next. How could my most hated enemy, the man whose very existence was a thorn in my side, be holding me so tenderly not once, but twice in one night? And why am I not pushing him away or slapping that infuriatingly handsome face of his?

"Haven't you told him yet, darling?" Alexander asks, his deep velvety voice reverberating through my body.

Why the heck is Prince Alexander pulling a stunt like this? What devious scheme is fueling his actions? And seriously, why can't I get my thoughts together?

I glance at Tristan, who looks seconds away from lunging at Alexander with murder in his eyes. His expression is fierce and angry, his hair disheveled as if he'd been dragged through a storm. He won't let this go easily; his pride has been wounded too deeply.

A sudden realization dawns on me – perhaps I made a mistake in telling Tristan I didn't love him. After all, Princess Seraphina was head over heels for him. Wouldn't this sudden change of heart seem suspicious, at the very least? If he continues to pursue me, my cover will be blown. He didn’t believe me when I said I don’t love him, so he will keep insisting, unless…

"Yes," I say with a soft sigh, steeling myself for what comes next. "It's true. We're engaged." I stare Tristan straight in the eye, trying to convey sincerity.

Even if the words feel foreign and heavy on my tongue, they have the desired effect: Tristan's jaw drops in shock.

Inside my head, I'm screaming bloody murder. Did I really just say that? But if pretending to be engaged to the prince would make Tristan back off for now, maybe it was worth it. All I could do was hope that by convincing Tristan of my fake engagement with Prince Alexander, he would finally leave me alone and stop pestering me.

Or maybe I just made my life even more difficult.

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Tristan's eyes widen in disbelief as he slowly rises to his feet, shaking his head like a wounded animal. "No, this can't be," he stammers, his voice cracking with a mix of shock and anger. "Engaged?" he continues, his voice barely a whisper. "But – how – since when?" He comes towards me, one hand clutching his chest while his eyes take on a wild, frantic look. "So... all the things you said, everything... Were all those letters you sent me lies?"

"Tristan..." I begin, but I'm cut off by Alexander stepping in front of me, shielding me from Tristan's wrath.

"Stay back," Alexander warns him, his tone firm and commanding. I glance at his broad, muscular back and immediately scold myself for indulging in the view.

"Stay out of this, Ironhold scum!" Tristan spits venomously, his eyes narrowing into dangerous slits. "You really think you can just claim her as your own?" His voice is a low growl, vibrating with barely contained violence.

I step sideways, getting out of the way.

Alexander, unfazed, stands tall and imposing, his expression one of cold amusement. His eyes, sharp and calculating, assess Tristan with a predator's gaze. "She made her choice," he says, his voice smooth and confident. "And I would appreciate it if you respected her wishes and left us."

But Tristan is beyond reason. With a roar of rage, he launches himself at Alexander, his fists clenched. His first punch, aimed at Alexander's jaw, is a blur of motion, backed by the full force of his anger. Alexander, however, moves with an almost supernatural grace. He sidesteps the attack effortlessly, his body swaying like a reed in the wind. As Tristan's fist whistles past, missing its target, Alexander's smirk widens.

Tristan, off-balance from his missed strike, tries to recover, swinging a wide arc towards Alexander's ribcage. But Alexander anticipates the move. He catches Tristan's wrist mid-air, his grip ironclad. With a twist and a swift pull, he unbalances Tristan, sending him staggering forward. Alexander doesn't relent. He uses Tristan's momentum against him, delivering a precise, controlled knee strike to Tristan's midsection. The impact is solid, the sound echoing in the silent night.

"Ugh!" Tristan doubles over, gasping for air, his face contorted in pain.

"Take that, you jerk," I think with a wicked grin, relishing his pain, and admiring Alexander’s prowess. I'm not sure I could have won against him in single combat without some serious prep.

Tristan struggles to regain his footing but relentless fire burns in his eyes. Driven by wounded pride, he refuses to yield. A mistake. With gritted teeth, he straightens up, swinging wildly at Alexander.

Tristan is fast and it’s clear he’s been well-trained as a Royal Guard, but he’s too upset to think straight. Each punch and kick is fueled by his frustration and embarrassment, but they are predictable, unrefined in the face of Alexander's calm composure. The Prince dances around Tristan's attacks with ease, his movements fluid and mocking. He parries a particularly aggressive punch and counters with an open-handed slap across Tristan's cheek, a deliberate act of humiliation.

Tristan reels from the impact of Alexander’s hand, his cheek reddening from the force. He glares at the Ironhold heir, his pride hurt more than his body. He lunges again, but Alexander is ready. With a swift motion, he steps into Tristan's space, blocking his arm and twisting it behind his back in a fluid, practiced move.

He leans close, his lips almost brushing Tristan's ear. "Enough," he whispers, his voice a dangerous, silky threat. "Leave now, before I forget my restraint and really show you what it means to cross me.”

For a split second, his eyes meet mine over Tristan's shoulder –– those piercing amber orbs that ignite something unknown beneath my skin. Despite him being my enemy, it's impossible not to feel exhilarated by Alexander's display of power. A shiver runs down my spine as I wonder what it would be like to have him use that power for me, rather than against me. Argh! This body responds to him in ways I can't control and I hate it.

Tristan struggles against the hold, but Alexander's grip is unyielding. With a final effort to break free, Tristan attempts to elbow Alexander in the ribs, but Alexander anticipates the move. He tightens his hold, forcing Tristan's arm up higher, eliciting a sharp gasp of pain. Tristan finally goes limp in Alexander's grasp, his head bowed in defeat.

"That'll teach you to ask for my hand in marriage," I think smugly, enjoying the sight of Tristan humiliated like the worm he is. I only wish it could have been me who had kicked his ass.

Alexander shoves Tristan away with an air of disdain. The knight stumbles a few steps before righting himself, his breaths heaving in the otherwise silent night. His eyes, filled with unspoken promises of revenge, avoid mine as if they're afraid of what they might find there. The knight's face is flushed red with anger, his jaw clenched tightly. His brows are furrowed, shoulders slumped as if carrying a heavy weight. He turns and leaves, his silence more intimidating than any words he could have spoken.

In contrast, Alexander stands unscathed and composed. His tailored suit clings to his impressive physique, accentuating every muscle. Not a single strand of hair dares to defy his perfectly styled locks. Everything about him exudes sophistication and dominance.

As Tristan storms off, his footsteps heavy with resentment, I'm relieved he's gone. But at the same time, I'm left standing here with the enemy prince, who has saved me from one disaster only to plunge me into an even worse predicament. I just wanted to spy in peace, for heaven's sake!

"Are you alright, Princess?" Alexander asks, turning to face me, his expression softening with genuine concern, which seems so out of place considering what he did to my family. The whirlwind of emotions inside me – frustration, disbelief, anger – all bubble to the surface, and I can't hold back any longer.

"Alright? Alright?!" I snap, grabbing my shoe and hurling it at Alexander with all my might. The heel strikes his face with a soft thud, causing him to blink in surprise.

Shit.

I shouldn't have done that.