I storm into my chambers after dinner.
"The pull you have on me—I'm finally giving in."
What in the gods' names was that supposed to mean?
I tear the pins from my hair, flinging them at the vanity one by one. Footsteps sound behind me. Friya, probably.
"Thank the stars you're here," I mutter, struggling with the gown's stiff buttons. "Help me out of this ridiculous thing. Now."
Silence.
I manage to undo two before growling, "Well? Will you help or not?"
A cough—too low. Not Friya.
I spin, bodice slipping dangerously. I catch it just in time.
Kaelen stands in the doorway, eyes averted. He looks… guilty.
"I didn't mean to intrude," he says quickly. "I only wanted to apologize. If I overstepped at dinner—"
"Get out."
He nods, already turning. "Of course" but I don't miss the mischievous smile across his face "Though… if you do need help—"
"Out, Kaelen."
He leaves. The door closes with a quiet click.
Friya arrives moments later, thankfully, and helps me peel off the gown. I change into my nightdress and slip into bed, heart pounding—not entirely from anger. Something about that smirk of his... I hate how it lingers.
I toss. Turn. Try to forget. Then—I hear the door open.
My pulse jumps.
I forgot. I don't sleep in this room anymore.
I shut my eyes quickly, feigning sleep.
Kaelen's footsteps pause beside the bed. A quiet sigh. Then, the mattress shifts. He lies down beside me—wordless.
Minutes pass. His breathing steadies.
I dare a glance. His face is turned toward mine, slack with sleep.
I roll to face him. I watch the slow rise and fall of his chest. That smirk again, rising unbidden in my memory. The way he wiped his mouth with that napkin, eyes never leaving mine, like we were having some unspoken conversation neither of us admitted to.
Why does that moment feel... charged?
Eventually, I drift off—watching him.
I wake to warmth.
Odd, given how cold the mornings have grown. I shift—and freeze.
An arm is around my waist. A leg tangled with mine. And Kaelen's face, far too close.
Saints preserve me.
How did this happen? More importantly—how did I not notice?
Light spills through the windows. He's usually gone by now. And yet... I don't move.
I remember the inn. His arms around me. The first night I'd truly slept in years.
Kaelen stirs, murmuring something against my skin. His arm tightens. I can feel the weight of his breath at my neck.
This cannot continue.
"Kaelen," I whisper.
He blinks awake, smiling faintly before pressing a kiss to my shoulder.
"Kaelen," I say, louder now.
"Mm?" He sits up slowly, rubbing his eyes. "Not a dream, then."
"What do you mean not a dream? Do you dream about me?"
He shrugs, voice sleep-rough. "Sometimes."
My mouth falls open. "You—" I scramble upright, dragging the blanket around me like armor. "I don't know who this man is but I want you act like you did before. Brooding answering only in cold stares and grunts"
He grins, infuriatingly slow. "You missed me."
"Missed you? Were you dropped on your head as a child?"
His smile softens. "I meant what I said, Nyriane. I'm sorry if I crossed a line. But I won't lie about my intentions. I don't plan to give up."
"I'm not territory to be claimed."
"No. You aren't. I don't want to conquer your heart. I want to earn it."
I go still.
Then, with a scoff, I throw the blanket in his face and stand.
"You signed a contract," he calls after me as I stalk toward the door. "Sharing a bed was part of it. I let it slide for weeks. But going forward... I expect you to honor your word."
He leans against the bedframe, arms crossed above his head. His night shirt rides up ever so slightly. I notice. The sensations that overcome me almost alarm me. I can not leave this room faster.
I slam the door angrily behind me.
I walk fast, too fast. Trying to outrun the heat in my face. His words. That infuriating confidence.
I want to earn your heart.
He says things like that with no hesitation. As if my heart were some prize to win—when it's a battlefield, scorched and buried beneath years of loss.
I've spent too long behind walls to start tearing them down now. Not for him. Not for anyone.
And yet...
I can still feel where his arm lay across my waist.
I hate him for that.
I hate myself more for not moving away.