Transmigrated as the Crown Prince's Mate
Chapter 177: Marry Me...

Chapter 177: Marry Me...

Evelina stared at him, her mind reeling. "You want me to run?"

"Not run," Kyle corrected, stepping closer. "Survive. Live. Thrive, even. Somewhere else—anywhere else. Somewhere Luther’s influence can’t touch you."

Evelina shook her head in disbelief. "And you think leaving is the answer? Abandoning everything I’ve worked for, everyone I care about?"

Kyle’s eyes softened. "Evelina, I’ve seen enough of court politics to know how this ends. People like Luther don’t play fair, and the council isn’t going to suddenly start seeing reason. Staying here... it’s like trying to fight a wildfire with a bucket of water."

Her chest tightened at his words, the weight of everything pressing down on her. He wasn’t entirely wrong—Luther had already painted her as a villain, and the council seemed more than willing to believe his lies.

But still...

"I can’t just leave," Evelina said firmly, her voice trembling slightly. "I can’t abandon Damian, or Jasper, or—"

Kyle held up a hand with an unreadable expression. "I get it. You have ties here. But ask yourself this: how much more are you willing to endure for people who might not even fight for you in the end?"

Evelina opened her mouth to respond, but no words came out.

She hated how his words struck a chord, how they echoed the quiet fears she’d buried deep within herself.

Kyle took another step closer, his gaze unwavering. "You don’t have to decide now," he murmured. "But if you do..." His voice lowered slightly, almost conspiratorial. "Marry me."

Evelina’s heart skipped a beat. "What?"

Kyle’s smile was faint, but there was a sharpness to it. "If you agree to marry me, I’ll protect you. I’ll clear your name with the Arcadian council and ensure Luther’s schemes fall apart before they gain traction."

Evelina blinked, her mind spinning. She stared at him, searching for any trace of humor, but his expression was calm and calculated. He was serious.

"This isn’t about protecting me," Evelina said finally, her voice firm despite the rapid beat of her heart. "This is about power, isn’t it?"

Kyle’s lips twitched, but he didn’t deny it. "Power and survival often go hand in hand, Evelina. You’re a smart woman—you know that. If you align yourself with me, you won’t just survive Arcadia’s wrath. You’ll rise above it."

Evelina shook her head, a bitter laugh escaping her lips. "You’re asking me to trade one cage for another."

Kyle sighed, his demeanour shifting slightly. "I’m not offering you a cage. I’m offering you freedom, Evelina. Freedom from all of this. From Luther, from the council’s suspicions, from the weight of proving yourself over and over again. With me, you wouldn’t have to fight alone."

She glared at him, anger and frustration bubbling just beneath the surface. "I’m not marrying you, Kyle. And if you think I’d agree to something so self-serving—"

"You won’t have a choice soon," Kyle interrupted softly, his tone sending a shiver down her spine.

Evelina froze, her eyes narrowing. "What’s that supposed to mean?"

Kyle leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Luther isn’t the only one playing a game here. The council isn’t as unified as it seems. If you’re not careful, Evelina, you’ll find yourself with no allies and no way out. I’m offering you a way to stay alive."

Evelina’s chest tightened, her fists trembling at her sides. "I’ll find my own way, Kyle. I don’t need you to save me."

Kyle straightened, his eyes gleaming with something that looked suspiciously like pity. "Fair enough. But my offer still stands. Don’t wait too long, though. You might not like the choices left when the dust settles."

He stepped back, his usual smirk returning, though it felt colder this time. "Goodnight, Evelina."

Evelina didn’t respond, watching as he disappeared into the shadows of the garden.

As the quiet of the night settled around her, Kyle’s words lingered like a poisonous whisper in her mind. She hated how easily he had sown doubt, how much his words had unsettled her.

But no matter how much she wanted to ignore him, one thing was clear: Kyle wasn’t just offering her protection. He was making a calculated play, positioning himself for something bigger.

And Evelina wasn’t going to let herself be a pawn in anyone’s game. Not Kyle’s. Not Luther’s. Not anyone’s.

With a determined exhale, she turned back toward the palace.

Evelina’s steps were slow as she walked, the cool night air brushing against her skin. Her mind raced, replaying Kyle’s words over and over again.

"You won’t have a choice soon."

Relia, who’d been silent, stirred uneasily in her mind. "That smarmy prince is up to something. He doesn’t want to save us—he wants to own us."

Evelina sighed softly, running a hand through her hair. "I know," she whispered.

"Then why are we walking so calmly back to the palace instead of punching him in the face?" Relia growled. "He doesn’t get to talk to us like we’re some damsel in distress. We’re more than capable of handling ourselves."

"I didn’t think punching a visiting prince would help my case," Evelina muttered, her lips twitching slightly despite the weight in her chest.

"I’m sure he won’t mind you forgetting a fist on his face," Relia huffed. "You need to stop being so diplomatic. Diplomacy didn’t get us this far—being a badass did."

Evelina shook her head, the corner of her mouth lifting in a small, reluctant smile. "You have an interesting definition of ’badass,’ Relia."

"Says the woman who’s going to march straight into Damian’s chambers to spill all her worries while he wraps us in his big, strong arms," Relia teased, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "Oh, how very brave of us."

Evelina rolled her eyes but said nothing.

As she reached the familiar corridor leading to Damian’s chambers, her heart clenched. She needed him. Not just his strength or his support—she needed him.

Relia purred softly in her mind, her teasing edge fading. "He’s waiting for us. Go to him."

Evelina exhaled and pushed open the door.

The room was dimly lit by the glow of the fireplace, casting warm, flickering shadows along the walls. Damian was seated on the edge of the bed, his silver eyes immediately locking onto hers as she entered.

He stood, his broad shoulders tense, his gaze searching her face.

"You were gone longer than I expected," he said in a low and steady voice, but there was a hint of worry beneath it.