Sold To The Cruel Prince-Chapter 26: The Hungry Little Hare

Theron did not let her remain at Willowgrave any longer than necessary. The moment he could, he brought her back to the tavern.

She had not woken once during the entire ride.

Even now, as he laid her gently onto the bed, one of her hands remained curled tightly around the fabric of his coat, as though some part of her refused to let go. It was a quiet, unconscious trust, one that settled deeper in his chest than he cared to admit.

He should have loosened her grip immediately.

Instead, he paused.

He let her hold on.

For a brief moment, he simply stood there, watching her sleep. Then, slowly, he took her hand in his and lifted it toward his lips, brushing a soft kiss against her knuckles.

Her fingers carried a faint, familiar scent.

Food.

Theron’s gaze shifted, and with mild curiosity, he checked the small folds and pockets hidden within her dress. As expected, he found a few carefully tucked pieces of snacks she had managed to sneak away, along with the valuables she had gathered earlier.

A quiet exhale left him, something close to amusement.

Of course, she had.

"Did you think I’d stop feeding you, Silly Hare?" he muttered under his breath. "What if the ants get you?"

Carefully, he helped her out of the outer layers of her dress, mindful not to wake her. Even then, she barely stirred, her breathing slow and even, her hold on him loosening only slightly before settling again.

For a moment, he hesitated. His fingers paused at the edge of her chemise, his gaze lingering longer than it should have.

She wasn’t the same as the girl he had found before.

There was a softness to her now, a quiet warmth in the way she looked even in sleep. Her skin held a healthy glow, her features no longer strained by constant hardship. Even the faint scent that clung to her was different. It was subtle, clean, and unexpectedly... pleasant.

Something unfamiliar stirred within him.

His hand lifted again, almost unconsciously. His fingers brushed her cheek and then her chin.

He leaned closer... Close enough to feel the warmth of her breath.

And then... He stopped.

The realization struck him sharply, snapping him out of whatever had been pulling him forward.

Theron straightened at once and stepped back, as though putting distance between them would steady his thoughts.

Without another glance, he turned and walked out.

"Call a maid," he instructed shortly.

He remained outside, waiting.

His head was slightly bowed, one hand resting against the wall as his foot tapped faintly against the wooden floor; an uncharacteristic restlessness that he did not bother to hide.

"Sire."

Kael’s voice cut through the silence.

"A letter from Her Majesty."

Theron glanced at the parchment in his hand but made no move to take it.

"What does it say?" he asked instead.

Kael lowered his gaze slightly as he read.

"The court has approved your bride, sire. She is the eldest granddaughter of Archduke Lucien Caelvaris of Solcryst—Lady—"

Theron lifted his hand, cutting him off.

It didn’t matter. Whoever she was... he did not care.

Without another word, he turned and stepped back into the room. The maid was still there, adjusting the fabric of Aveline’s nightgown.

"Leave," Theron said.

The maid immediately set down the cloth in her hand and hurried out without question.

Theron moved closer to the bed.

He finished tying the loose ribbons of the nightgown himself, his movements more careful than necessary. Once done, he remained there for a moment, simply watching her.

"How tired are you...?" He murmured softly.

His finger reached out, gently nudging the tip of her nose. She didn’t stir, didn’t flinch. At least now, she slept peacefully, no longer trembling or shrinking even in her dreams, as if she knew it was over and the ones who hurt her were no more.

For Theron, somehow, that alone felt like enough for the night.

But he wanted to talk to her.

Theron leaned slightly closer, studying her sleeping face as if she might suddenly wake and answer all the questions crowding his mind. When she didn’t, he reached out and lightly poked her cheek.

His lips curved faintly.

He remembered the way she had run after him earlier—without hesitation, without thinking twice. For a moment back there, he had truly believed she had chosen Theodore.

And yet... she had come after him.

"Did you run to me for him...?" he murmured quietly, almost to himself. "Or... do you want to be with me?"

There was no answer. Only the soft rhythm of her breathing.

Before he realized it, his hand had drifted lower. His fingertips brushed against her lips, and lingered there, as though caught between thought and instinct.

His heartbeat quickened.

He frowned slightly. He didn’t understand it... that strange, restless feeling sitting deep in his chest, refusing to settle.

A memory surfaced, unbidden.

Take me as your mistress...

Earlier, those words had angered him.

Now... They didn’t.

But what replaced that anger was something far more unfamiliar, something he could not quite name, and could not quite ignore.

His thoughts stilled abruptly.

Aveline shifted. Her lips moved lightly against his fingertips.

Theron blinked, caught off guard.

What is she doing...?

Still half-asleep, Aveline leaned closer, her nose scrunching slightly as if she were searching for something familiar. And then, without warning...

She bit his finger.

Not hard. But with surprising determination, like a little hare that had finally found what it was looking for, something to munch on.

Theron pulled his hand back instinctively. "Are you that hungry already?" he muttered under his breath.

Even in her sleep, she seemed dissatisfied. Her brows furrowed faintly as if she had lost something important. After a moment, she shifted again, her lips moving slightly, almost as if she were still chewing.

Theron hesitated. Then, for reasons he didn’t fully understand, he offered his finger again.

This time, she didn’t react the same way.

Her nose flared faintly, her lips moved in small, absent motions, and then... she pressed his lips on his finger, as if kissing something precious.

Theron’s heart started to pound, as if a rabid monster chased him. What was that?

But Aveline... She didn’t seem to see his suffering. Just as suddenly as she kissed him, she turned away, sinking deeper into sleep as if nothing had happened at all.

Silence settled in the room.

Theron let out a slow breath.

His gaze dropped to his hand.

His finger was still damp from where she had bitten him. For a moment, he simply stared at it. Then, slowly, his lips curved to a quiet, helpless kind of smile.

"What am I supposed to do with you..." He murmured.

-----

Meanwhile, in Eryndale, the capital of Greenvale, within the secluded Estate of Vantaris, a different kind of silence settled.

It was the kind that belonged to old houses.

To bloodlines that carried secrets too heavy to speak aloud. 𝗳𝚛𝗲𝕖𝚠𝚎𝚋𝗻𝗼𝕧𝗲𝐥.𝚌𝚘𝐦

Kael’s father stood alone in the estate’s ancient library, the dim candlelight casting long shadows across towering shelves filled with records that dated back generations. A dark strip of parchment dissolved slowly in his hand, the last traces of Kael’s message fading into nothing.

"It can’t be..." he muttered, his voice low and strained. "This doesn’t make sense."

His fingers tightened.

For a man who had spent his entire life studying the unseen dangers that lurked beyond ordinary understanding, uncertainty was rare.

But this... This unsettled him.

He turned abruptly and moved toward the shelves, pulling out old volumes one after another. Dust rose faintly into the air as he flipped through brittle pages filled with faded ink, diagrams, and warnings passed down through his lineage as he looked for curses, anomalies, and things that should not exist.

His eyes scanned the pages quickly, searching for something—anything—that matched what his son had described.

Nothing. There was no mention, no record, and no warning. And that was what frightened him the most.

Because in his experience, the most dangerous things were never the ones written down. They were the ones no one had survived long enough to record.

He exhaled slowly and reached for another strip of dark parchment. The message formed under his touch, the ink appearing like veins of shadow across its surface.

[Keep an eye on her. Do not let her get close to His Royal Highness. She appears dangerous.]

With a flick of his wrist, the message vanished.

Miles away, Kael caught it mid-air as it re-formed in his grasp.

His eyes moved quickly across the words before his hand clenched, crushing the parchment as if it were nothing more than dry leaves.

His jaw tightened.

Of course. His father too had come to the same conclusion.

Kael lifted his gaze toward the closed door of the room where Theron remained with Aveline. His expression hardened.

I will protect my liege...

The vow settled deep within him, heavy and unyielding.

Even if it costs me my life. Even if...

His fingers curled tighter.

Even if my liege himself stood in the way.

Kael closed his eyes briefly. When they opened, they burned.

Then I’ll act... before we ever reach Greenvale.