For a moment, an inexplicable pang of guilt pierces through me as I stare into Knox's hurt green eyes. The raw pain shimmering there makes something in my chest twist, a sharp, unwelcome ache. But I shake it off before it can take root. I can't afford to soften toward him, not now. I don't reply to his question, hoping he won't press further.

The vial feels like molten glass in my palm, its weight seemingly increasing with each passing second. Knox's gaze flickers to it again, his jaw tightening as he takes in the damning evidence of whatever conversation he overheard.

"We didn't finish our conversation yesterday," he says, his voice carefully controlled despite the storm I can see brewing in his eyes.

"We don't need to." I clutch the vial tighter, willing myself to project the same cold indifference I've seen other women master. "There's nothing to discuss."

Part of me expects him to throw my cruel words back at me—to demand an explanation for why I claimed to despise him. But he doesn't. He simply stands there, watching me with those green eyes that hold more pain than anger.

"Aubrey—"

"I said no, Knox." I turn to walk away, desperate to escape before he can see through my crumbling facade.

Before I can take another step, strong arms sweep around my waist. The world tilts sickeningly as Knox hoists me over his shoulder like I'm nothing more than a sack of grain. The vial slips from my startled fingers, shattering against the stone floor in a spray of crystal and clear liquid.

"Put me down!" I shriek, mortification flooding through me as my legs kick uselessly in the air. The skirts of my burgundy velvet gown bunch around my waist, and I frantically try to push them down while simultaneously pounding my fists against Knox's broad back. "This is humiliating! Put me down this instant!"

Knox doesn't respond, just adjusts his grip and strides down the corridor with purposeful steps. His shoulder digs into my stomach with each movement, making me nauseous as blood rushes to my head. The torches lining the walls blur past in streaks of orange light as he carries me through the castle like I'm some sort of prize he's claimed.

"Knox!" I scream, my voice echoing off the stone walls. "I swear by the Moon Goddess, if you don't put me down right now—"

"You'll what?" His voice carries a hint of dark amusement that only fuels my rage. "Challenge me to a duel? We both know how that ended last time."

I renew my efforts to escape, twisting and writhing against his iron grip. My fists connect with his back repeatedly, but he might as well be made of stone for all the effect it has. Servants we pass press themselves against the walls, their eyes wide with shock and curiosity. I catch glimpses of their faces—some scandalized, others barely concealing smirks at seeing their future crown princess carried off like a wayward child.

"This is barbaric!" I rage, my voice hoarse from shouting. "You can't just—"

Knox pushes through a set of heavy oak doors, and suddenly we're outside in the castle courtyard. The cool night air hits my overheated skin as he carries me toward an ornate royal carriage waiting by the fountain. Its midnight blue paint gleams in the moonlight, gold trim catching the stars like captured fire.

"Oh, absolutely not," I snarl, redoubling my struggles as I realize his intention. "I am not getting in that carriage!"

But Knox has already reached the vehicle. He yanks open the door with his free hand and unceremoniously dumps me onto the plush velvet seats. Before I can scramble back out, he's produced a silk handkerchief from his jacket pocket.

"Don't you dare—" My protests are muffled as he ties the fabric around my mouth, his movements swift and efficient despite my attempts to bite him.

I glare daggers at him over the handkerchief, mentally cataloging every single way I plan to make him pay for this indignity. My eyes promise violence—slow, creative violence that will make him regret the day he was born.

Knox settles into the seat across from me, his expression unreadable in the dim interior. "I know you're furious," he says calmly, as if he hasn't just kidnapped me. "But we need to talk, and you've made it clear you won't do so willingly."

I make several choice observations about his parentage and intelligence, all thoroughly muffled by the handkerchief. Knox has the audacity to look amused by my attempts at verbal assault.

The carriage lurches into motion, wheels clattering over cobblestones as we leave the castle behind. Through the small window, I watch the familiar towers and battlements shrink into the distance, replaced by rolling hills dotted with ancient oak trees. The moon hangs full and bright overhead, casting everything in silvery light that makes the landscape look ethereal and otherworldly.

Where is he taking me? My mind races through possibilities, each worse than the last. Is this some sort of punishment for the poison? A way to ensure I can't report back to Jax? The thought sends a chill down my spine despite my fury.

But he would only do that if he heard my full conversation with Avery, though I doubt it. If he had, he would've questioned me about it.

The carriage ride feels endless, my anger gradually giving way to unease as we travel deeper into unfamiliar territory. The rhythmic rocking motion and the soft creak of wheels over dirt roads create an almost hypnotic effect, but I refuse to let my guard down. Every bump and turn reminds me that I'm completely at Knox's mercy, trapped in this luxurious prison with no way to escape.

Finally, after what feels like hours but is probably only thirty minutes, the carriage rolls to a stop. Knox opens the door and steps out, then turns to help me down. I ignore his offered hand, choosing instead to climb out under my own power—and immediately seize the opportunity he's unwittingly given me.

My fist connects with his face in a satisfying crack that sends pain shooting up my arm. Knox staggers back, one hand flying to his lip as blood begins to trickle from the corner of his mouth. The sight stops my surge of triumph cold.

Red droplets catch the moonlight as they fall, and suddenly I'm seeing him not as my captor but as the man who held me while I cried, who kissed me with such desperate tenderness, who confessed I was his first. The anger that sustained me during the carriage ride wavers, replaced by an uncomfortable mix of regret and concern.

"Was that really necessary?" Knox asks, dabbing at his split lip with the back of his hand. But there's no real anger in his voice, just weary resignation.

I yank the handkerchief from my mouth, gasping in the cool night air. "You kidnapped me!" I snap, though my heart isn't entirely in it anymore. "What did you expect, gratitude?"

"I expected exactly that," he admits, settling onto a fallen log as if we're having a casual conversation instead of standing in the middle of nowhere after he literally carried me off. "I know you, Aubrey. You would have avoided me for weeks if I'd let you walk away tonight."

I look around, taking in our surroundings for the first time. We're in a small clearing surrounded by towering pine trees, their branches creating a natural cathedral overhead. The full moon filters through the canopy, casting intricate patterns of light and shadow across the moss-covered ground. A small stream babbles nearby, its surface reflecting stars like scattered diamonds. It's beautiful and peaceful—the last place I'd expect to be brought against my will.

"So you thought kidnapping was the reasonable alternative?" I ask, crossing my arms over my chest.

"I thought it was the only way to get you to listen," Knox replies, and something in his tone makes me look at him more closely. There's a vulnerability in his posture I haven't seen before, a tension in his shoulders that speaks of barely controlled desperation.

"Listen to what? What could you possibly have to say that couldn't wait until tomorrow? Or be said in the castle?"

Knox takes a deep breath, and suddenly I realize he's nervous. The great Crown Prince, future ruler of the kingdom, is actually nervous about whatever he's brought me here to discuss.

Then, to my utter disbelief, he drops to one knee.

My brain short-circuits as I watch him reach into his jacket pocket with hands that shake slightly. He produces a bouquet of deep red roses, their petals perfect and unblemished despite our rough journey, their sweet fragrance mixing with the pine-scented air. But it's what he pulls out next that makes my knees threaten to buckle.

The ring is gorgeous—an ornate silver band set with a deep emerald that seems to capture and hold the moonlight like trapped starfire. The stone is surrounded by smaller diamonds that sparkle like stars, the entire piece clearly crafted by a master jeweler. It's the kind of ring princesses dream of, the kind that appears in fairy tales and romantic ballads.

"Aubrey," Knox begins, his voice steady despite the gravity of the moment and the blood still trickling from his lip. "I know we've had our differences, and I know you have every reason to doubt me. But you're my mate, chosen by the Moon Goddess herself. I'm asking—no, I'm begging—you to be my Luna, my wife, my partner in all things."

The roses tremble slightly in his other hand, betraying his nerves even as his voice remains strong. In the moonlight, with his dark hair falling across his forehead and hope written across his bloodied face, he looks like something out of a dream. A dangerous, impossible dream that I have no right to want.

"Will you marry me?"

The words hang in the air between us, heavy with possibility and promise. My jaw drops, hanging open like some lovesick maiden from a romance novel. I stare at the ring glinting in the moonlight, at the roses trembling in his hand, at the vulnerable hope etched across every line of his face.

This isn't happening. This can't be happening. Crown princes don't propose to girls like me in moonlit clearings with blood on their lips and desperation in their eyes. They don't offer rings that cost more than most people see in a lifetime, don't kneel in the dirt and beg for forever with someone who's supposed to betray them.

But Knox is still there, still kneeling, still holding the ring like it contains all his hopes for the future. The emerald catches the light again, sending green fire dancing across the moss-covered ground between us.

"Say something," Aria whispers urgently in my mind. "The poor man is going to think you've lost your ability to speak."

But I can't speak. Can't think. Can't do anything but stare at this impossible moment that feels like something from another person's life. Because girls like me—broken, damaged, carrying poison in their hearts—don't get proposals from fairy tale princes under starlit skies.

Yet here we are.

The silence stretches between us, punctuated only by the gentle babbling of the nearby stream and the whisper of wind through pine needles. Knox's eyes never leave mine, searching for some sign of what I'm thinking, what I'm feeling, what answer I might give to this question that could change everything.