Maryna stood alone in the darkened hall, wrists bound behind her, breath coming in short, furious bursts.
The silk was soft against her skin but unyielding, a mocking reminder that even when Vasilios didn't touch her, he still controlled her.
And worse than the bindings was the word he had left behind—
Mariposa.
Her father's voice echoed in her mind.
His laughter.
The safety she hadn't felt in years.
She squeezed her eyes shut, willing the memory away.
She couldn't afford softness now. Not here. Not with him.
Grinding her teeth, Maryna twisted her wrists, feeling the ribbon give slightly.
Vasilios hadn't tied it cruelly—he hadn't needed to.
He thought she would stay here. Helpless. Waiting.
He thought wrong.
Using her body's weight, she strained against the knot, gritting her teeth through the burn of friction against her skin.
Slowly, carefully, she twisted—
Until, with a sharp pull, the silk slipped free.
Maryna staggered forward, rubbing her wrists, a vicious satisfaction blooming in her chest.
She wasn't his prisoner.
She would never be his pet.
The heavy door loomed before her. She wasn't stupid enough to try the forbidden wing again—not tonight.
But she wouldn't crawl meekly back to her room either.
No.
She would show him she wasn't afraid.
Squaring her shoulders, Maryna retraced her steps back to the grand hall—the same place where he had humiliated her, made her parade her weakness in front of her own reflection.
The torches were still lit.
The room was empty.
Almost.
Vasilios stood near the far wall, a glass of dark wine in his hand, studying one of the tall, cracked mirrors.
He didn't turn as she entered.
But she knew he was aware of her.
"Impressive," he said after a long moment, his voice low, casual.
"As expected from my Mariposa."
The name scraped over her skin like broken glass.
Maryna stalked closer, each step fueled by rage she barely kept leashed.
"You think tying me up and calling me pretty names makes you a king?" she snapped, her voice cutting the heavy air.
Vasilios finally turned, his gaze slow and heavy on her.
"No," he said, setting the glass down with a soft clink. "But it reminds you who you belong to."
She laughed, a harsh, brittle sound that echoed off the stone.
"You think I belong to anyone?" she asked, stepping into the full glow of the torches.
Her eyes burned. Her chest heaved.
She knew she looked wild, defiant—and she wanted him to see it.
"I belonged to someone once," she said, her voice trembling with the force of held-back emotion.
"Someone who called me Mariposa because he loved me, not because he wanted to own me."
Vasilios's expression didn't change, but something flickered behind his eyes—
A shadow, a shift.
"You are confusing love with weakness," he said.
She shook her head slowly.
"No," she whispered. "You are confusing control with care."
Silence fell, thick and suffocating.
For a moment, Maryna thought she saw a crack in his perfect, monstrous armor—
A fracture.
But then he smiled.
Slow. Dangerous.
He crossed the space between them in a single step, towering over her, the heat of his body wrapping around her like smoke.
Maryna didn't flinch.
She tilted her chin higher, daring him.
"You will learn," Vasilios murmured, the words a threat and a promise against her skin.
"One way or another."
He didn't touch her.
Didn't bind her again.
He simply turned and left, the heavy door slamming behind him—
leaving her standing alone, unbroken, the taste of defiance still sweet on her tongue.
But even as she stood victorious, a cold truth coiled in the pit of her stomach.
She had drawn blood tonight.
And now the real games would begin.
To be continued…