Love The Way He Lied

⚠️ Content Warning

This story contains scenes of violence, blood, and graphic content that may be disturbing or triggering to some readers. Viewer discretion is strongly advised.

Soft rays of morning sunlight spilled through the tall windows, dancing across the silk sheets. Eva stirred, her lashes fluttering as consciousness slowly returned to her. Her limbs felt heavy, her thoughts clouded in a fog. For a moment, she couldn't remember where she was.

Then a memory returned not of blood, not of pain, but a voice.

"I love you."

Kyel's voice.

Her heart skipped.

She turned her head, and there he was still beside her.

Eva reached out with trembling fingers and gently lifted his hand from her waist.

She rolled onto her side to face him. Her fingertips hesitated just above his face before brushing lightly across his brows… down to his cheek… then traced the curve of his lips.

And then, smiling faintly through the ache, she leaned forward and pressed a soft, tender kiss on his lips.

Kyel stirred immediately.

His eyes opened and the moment they met hers, his face lit up.

"Princess," he whispered, his voice still husky with sleep. "You're awake."

Eva gave a gentle nod. "Just now."

His hand lifted to her face, brushing her hair away from her eyes. "How do you feel? How's your wounds… do they still hurt?"

She lowered her gaze, hesitating. "A little."

"I'll change the bandages," he said softly. "Let me help you."

He carefully sat up and moved to the floor, kneeling in front of her like a quiet, reverent knight. With gentle fingers, he began to unwrap the bandage around her foot.

But when the bandages came off, his hands stilled.

The wound was deep, raw.

He went quiet.

Eva noticed. "Kyel?" she asked softly. "Why aren't you saying anything?"

He stared at the wound like it had cut him.

Under his breath, so faint she almost missed it, he muttered, "I'll make him feel every bit of this pain…"

Her eyes widened. "What?"

Kyel blinked, then quickly shook his head. "Nothing," he said gently. "Let me know if it hurts, alright?"

"Okay."

He dipped two fingers into a jar of ointment and gently applied it to her skin.

She flinched the moment it touched.

"Does it sting?" he asked.

"It does," she admitted, gripping the edge of the blanket. "But I can handle it."

His heart twisted.

"I wish you didn't have to," he murmured.

He finished rewrapping her foot with care, then moved to her face. With a soft cloth, he dabbed balm onto the bruises on her cheek and the cut on her lip, his touch reverent, almost like an apology.

Then he met her eyes again. "Let's go home, Princess. You need rest. no sword training until you heal."

Eva hesitated, then gave a small nod. "Alright."

Just then a knock at the door.

"Lady Eva?" came a familiar voice. "If it's alright… may I enter?"

Eva turned toward the door. "Hans? Yes, you can come in."

The door opened, and Hans stepped inside, his expression soft and formal. "Lady Eva. His Majesty sent me to check on your condition. He sends his regards."

"Tell His Majesty… I'm feeling better."

Hans's eyes moved to Kyel, and after a subtle pause, he acted like they were meeting for the first time. "Ah you must be Lady Eva's husband."

Kyel nodded, forcing a smile. "Yes. Kyel."

Eva looked at him curiously. "But Kyel… what are you doing here at the palace?"

Kyel and Hans exchanged a brief, panicked glance.

Kyel cleared his throat. "You didn't come home last night. I was worried… so I came looking for you."

Eva blinked, then nodded. "Right… I forgot to send word. It all happened so fast."

She turned back to Hans. "Where is His Highness now? I'd like to speak with him… thank him. If he hadn't come for me…"

She began to rise.

Both Kyel and Hans panicked.

"No!" they said in unison.

Kyel rushed forward, gently placing a hand on her shoulder.

"Princess, please. Your feet are still healing. You shouldn't be walking."

Hans jumped in. "Yes—yes, Lady Eva. His Majesty would want you to rest. You can express your gratitude later when you've fully recovered."

Eva sighed but nodded. "Alright… I'll speak with him later."

Kyel turned to Hans. "Sir Hans, could you prepare a carriage for us?"

Hans bowed. "Yes. At once."

As Hans turned to leave, Kyel followed him a few steps and leaned close.

"I'll return tonight," he whispered darkly. "Until then… don't take your eyes off Duke Malric Vane. Not for a single breath."

Hans bowed lower. "Yes, Your Highness."

Kyel frowned. "Stop bowing she's still watching."

Hans straightened instantly. "Right of course."

Kyel raised his voice. "Thank you, Sir Hans. We'll be taking our leave."

Hans nodded. "Safe journey."

Kyel turned back to Eva and lifted her into his arms again, effortlessly.

As he carried her out, Eva clung to him gently, resting her head against his shoulder.

Then he settled her into the carriage, and stepped in beside her, pulled the curtain shut, and with a flick of the reins, the carriage rolled forward away from the palace, away from the shadows.

(Eva and kyel's house)

The moon hung high above as Kyel and Eva reached the quiet doorstep of their cottage. The night air was cool, crisp, and silent, wrapping around them like a cloak. Every step Eva took seemed to weigh on her battered body, and Kyel noticed. He paused, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye.

Without a word, he leaned down and swept her into his arms.

"Kyel " she began softly.

"Don't," he said, his voice low but tender. "Just let me take care of you tonight."

Eva didn't resist. Her head rested against his shoulder, her arms lightly looped around his neck. Safe. That's what it felt like. Finally safe.

He carried her inside, placed her gently on the bed, and knelt beside her. He removed her cloak carefully, checking for wounds that hadn't yet been treated.

Some were still raw. Others slowly healing. He brushed his fingers over her wrist, where the bruising had faded to an angry red.

"I'll Cook something for you," he whispered, getting to his feet.

He moved to the kitchen and prepared a bowl of rice soup with herbs and bone broth. While it simmered, he mixed a salve from the plants he had gathered earlier healing balm to ease her aches and reduce the swelling.

When he returned, he helped her sit and fed her each spoonful, watching her carefully.

Eva's eyelids grew heavier as she ate.

"You're going to fall asleep sitting up," Kyel chuckled softly.

"I'm just resting my eyes," she mumbled.

After helping her finish, he set the bowl aside and cleaned her wounds again, wrapping them in fresh bandages with a gentle hand. When he was done, she was already half-asleep.

"Sleep, Eva," he whispered.

He bent forward and pressed a soft kiss to her temple. She murmured something under her breath, then fell fully into slumber.

Kyel rose, walked to the door, and opened it.

The wolves Talon, Fen, and Mara emerged from the shadows.

He knelt in front of them and whispered, "Guard her. Do not let anything come near her until I return."

The wolves growled in acknowledgment and took their positions Talon by the door, Fen by the window, and Mara at the foot of the bed.

With one last glance at Eva's sleeping form, Kyel slipped into the night.

(At Palace)

The palace loomed like a silent predator under the moonlight. Its walls hid secrets, blood, and vengeance.

Kyel now wearing the face of Eyan Lucien Therald entered through the lower gate. Hans was already waiting, his expression dark and resolute.

"Everything is ready, Your Majesty," he said.

"Take me to him," Eyan replied.

Hans led him down the winding stone corridors, each step echoing like a heartbeat of the damned. Torches flickered on the damp walls. The dungeon stank of rust, fear, and sweat.

They stopped before a thick iron door.

Inside, Duke Malric Vane sat chained to a stone pillar. His once-proud robes were torn, his face hollow with dread.

When the door opened and Eyan entered, the duke's knees buckled.

"Y-Your Majesty!" Malric choked out. "Please, I -I was drunk. I didn't know what I was doing. I swear"

Eyan didn't speak.

He removed his gloves slowly, deliberately. The sound of the leather slipping from his fingers was the only thing the duke could hear over his own frantic breathing.

Then Eyan drew his sword.

The cold sound of metal scraped through the chamber like death itself.

He stared at the man groveling before him. All he could see was her face.

Pale. Shaking. That red mark across her cheek.

And then

SLAP.

The first blow rang out like thunder.

Malric gasped, his face whipping to the side.

SLAP.

"Do you know what you did to her?" Eyan's voice was cold, venomous.

SLAP.

"She cried."

SLAP.

"She flinched when I touched her."

SLAP.

"She looked at me like she didn't know if she could trust anyone ever again."

SLAP.

"Thousand" he growled. "Thousand slaps for the one you gave her."

By the tenth blow, Malric was barely conscious. His lips were bleeding. His nose broken. Blood spilled onto the floor. Then he slumped forward and passed out.

Eyan turned to the knight standing nearby. "Bring cold water. Wake him."

Moments later, the knight returned with a bucket. He poured it over Malric's head, and the man jolted awake with a gasp.

"P-Please, please—mercy, I—"

SLAP.

"Bring it," Eyan said.

The knight nodded and returned with a cloth bag. He dumped its contents onto the ground shards of broken glass glittered beneath the torchlight.

Eyan stepped forward. "Make him stand on it."

Two guards dragged Malric up. He screamed before his feet even touched the shards. The moment they pressed down, blood sprayed. He wailed, trembling, but the guards held him still.

"I can't! I can't!" he sobbed. "Please just kill me!"

Eyan walked closer. His voice was a whisper.

"You'll die. But not yet."

He grabbed the duke by the throat, lifting him slightly.

"You'll feel her pain first. You'll feel it in your bones, in your blood. You'll remember it."

"You dared to lay a hand on her. And you expect forgiveness?"

Eyan threw him back, then slammed his head into a bucket of freezing water. The man struggled and kicked, bubbles rising until Eyan finally let him up again.

Gasping. Choking.

"Law is for Humans," Eyan whispered. "But you are no Human. You're a monster."

The torture continued until dawn.

Bones broke. Skin split. Sobs turned to silence.

And finally, when Duke Malric Vane was little more than a shell of flesh and agony, Eyan stood over him with his sword.

"You should have never touched her."

Then, without hesitation, he plunged the blade straight into the duke's chest.

The dungeon was quiet.

The monster was dead.

(Morning Light)

A golden warmth filled the cottage as sunlight slipped between the curtains. Eva stirred, her eyes slowly fluttering open. Her body still ached, but there was a softness to the air—a calm she hadn't felt in days.

She turned her head and saw Kyel.

He lay beside her, still in the same clothes, his face turned toward her, his hair messy from sleep. She simply watched him… and smiled.

She touched his hair gently, brushing it away from his forehead.

It was late afternoon when Kyel finally stirred. He sat up groggily, blinking against the light.

His first words were, "It's late… Why didn't you wake me, Princess?"

Eva sat near the window, holding a cup of warm tea. She turned to him with a soft smile.

"You were sound asleep," she replied. "I didn't want to disturb you."

Kyel swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood. "You should've woken me. I should've made something for you to eat."

"I already ate," she said gently. "I cooked something this morning."

Kyel looked at her, alarmed. "You cooked? You're still recovering."

He sighed, guilt creeping into his voice. "I should've been up. I should've taken care of you"

"You looked tired," Eva said, walking up to him.

"You needed the sleep more than I needed breakfast."

She rested her head against his chest.

Kyel slowly wrapped his arms around her.

"Still," he whispered, "let me take care of you now."

And together, they sat at the table, eating quietly, holding onto the peace that had returned to them.