Trapped In a World I Created

The words tumbled out before she could stop them, and the moment they did, she wanted to disappear. Her eyes widened as she clamped her mouth shut, horrified by her own stupidity.

Halcyon stilled. For a moment, there was silence, broken only by the soft clink of his glass as he set it back down. His smirk grew wider, more dangerous, and a chuckle rumbled low in his throat.

"Hit you?" he repeated, his tone laced with amusement. He tilted his head slightly, his crimson gaze gleaming with something unreadable. "Why would I ruin such... delicate skin?"

Elle's cheeks flushed, though whether it was from embarrassment, fear, or anger, she couldn't tell. She bit back a retort, knowing better than to provoke him further.

Instead, she lowered her gaze and whispered, "I-I didn't mean it like that…"

Halcyon's chuckle deepened, but he said nothing more. His silence spoke volumes, though, as if he found her fear both amusing and intriguing.

Elle clenched her fists by her sides, her thoughts racing. Why did I have to say that? Why can't I just keep quiet?

Halcyon leaned back slightly, his gaze sweeping over her as if studying her every reaction. The weight of his attention was unbearable, and Elle felt like she was standing under a spotlight in a darkened theater, every flaw on display.

"You're trembling," he noted, his voice quieter now but no less piercing. "Are you afraid of me, Ms. Phalanor?"

Elle froze. Her instinct screamed yes, but she knew better than to admit it outright. Words felt dangerous in his presence, each one a potential weapon that could be turned against her.

"I…" she hesitated, trying to steady her voice. "I don't know why I'm here, Your Highness." She opted for honesty, hoping it would steer the conversation away from her trembling hands and unsteady breath.

Halcyon tilted his head, a hint of a smirk returning to his lips. "A clever way to avoid my question."

Her heart sank. Of course he'd catch that.

Before she could respond, he stepped closer, invading her personal space. She instinctively stepped back but quickly realized there was nowhere to go—her back was nearly against the table now.

Halcyon leaned in slightly, his face inches from hers. His proximity was suffocating, his presence so overwhelming that Elle felt her knees weaken again.

"You'll find," he began, his tone soft but dripping with menace, "that I am a man who values honesty. So, let's try again. Are you afraid of me?"

His crimson eyes locked onto hers, daring her to lie.

Elle swallowed hard, her mouth dry as she scrambled for a response that wouldn't seal her fate. Say something smart. Something neutral.

"Yes," she blurted out, her voice barely above a whisper.

Halcyon blinked, momentarily caught off guard. Then, to her astonishment, he laughed. It wasn't the cold, calculated chuckle from earlier—it was deeper, fuller, as though her answer had genuinely amused him.

"Good," he said, straightening up. "Fear is useful. It keeps you alert."

Elle didn't know whether to be relieved or terrified by his reaction.

He turned away from her, walking back toward the chair. "You'll find that honesty will serve you well here, Ms. Phalanor. Dishonesty, however…" He trailed off, his tone turning cold as his gaze shifted out the window.

Elle didn't need him to finish the sentence to know what he meant. Her heart thudded painfully in her chest as she stood rooted to the spot, unsure if she was dismissed or expected to stay.

The silence stretched between them, oppressive and suffocating. Cyon leaned back in his chair, his posture one of effortless authority, as if he owned not just the room but the air she breathed. His gaze pinned her in place, sharp and unrelenting, as though he were peeling back her layers to expose whatever secrets she was trying to hide.

Say it, she urged herself. The word clawed at her throat, begging to be spoken. Halcyon. But her lips wouldn't move. Her courage seemed to drain with every passing second under the weight of his eyes.

"Lost in thought, are we?" His voice sliced through the quiet, smooth yet barbed, as if he were testing her.

Her breath hitched. Her mind screamed for her to speak, to take control of the moment. But the code word—the one thing that could confirm or deny her suspicions—remained trapped behind a wall of doubt and fear. What if this was the real Halcyon? What if she'd miscalculated? The thought sent a chill racing down her spine.

"I…" she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper.

He tilted his head, watching her struggle with faint amusement glimmering in his eyes. "You what Ms phalanor?"

Her pulse raced as her thoughts spiraled. Every instinct screamed at her to leave before she made things worse, but her feet refused to move. Instead, her mind betrayed her, replaying the faintest brush of his fingers against her skin earlier—deliberate, lingering, and far too intimate for someone she was supposed to distrust.

Focus, Elle. Focus. She clenched her fists at her sides, nails digging into her palms. But no matter how hard she tried, the weight of his presence made her feel small, insignificant, and completely out of her depth.

Cyon sighed, a quiet sound that somehow made her flinch more than if he'd raised his voice. He rose from his chair slowly, the air around him shifting with the sheer force of his presence.

"You're wasting both our time," he said, his voice cool and devoid of any warmth. He began to move toward her, his steps unhurried yet deliberate.

Elle stiffened as he came to a stop mere inches away. The scent of cedar and something darker—something distinctly him—clouded her senses, and she hated how her body betrayed her, how her heart raced as if it were fighting against her will.

He leaned down, just enough that his breath ghosted against her ear. "If you're going to stand there uselessly, I'll make it easy for you." His words sent a shiver down her spine, equal parts threat and command.

"You're dismissed."

It wasn't a suggestion. It wasn't even a demand. It was a verdict, spoken with the finality of someone who knew they would be obeyed.

Her legs felt like lead, but somehow, she managed to take a step back. Then another. Her mind screamed at her to say something, to do something, but all she could do was retreat under his cold, unyielding gaze.

She reached the doorway, her trembling hand brushing against the frame as if it could steady her. And still, she hesitated. The word was on the tip of her tongue, her one chance to confront him, but the fear of getting it wrong—of facing whatever wrath he might unleash—paralyzed her.

"Is there something else?" His voice cut through her hesitation like a blade.

Elle froze, feeling the weight of his attention snap back to her. She opened her mouth, her lips parting around the first syllable of the word that would reveal everything. But the second she met his eyes again, her resolve crumbled.

"No," she whispered, her voice so faint she wasn't even sure he heard it.

Cyon let out a quiet hum, the sound almost condescending. "leave."

She fled, her footsteps echoing down the corridor as her thoughts spun out of control. She'd had her chance—her moment to confirm what she desperately needed to know—and she'd let it slip away.