“Like I’m…” I trailed off, realizing I did not know how to finish the sentence. Like I’m something worth staying for. Like I’m not meant to be locked in someone else’s cage.
He said nothing, his eyes looking intently into mine.
The fire stirred beneath my skin.
The heat a steady pulse, like something ancient and golden waking in my chest. It wasn’t demanding or loud. But…aware. Present. Like a flame waiting patiently to be chosen.
I curled my fingers around the edge of the railing to ground myself.
A bell tolled somewhere far below, signaling the change of shift for the night guards. The soft chime echoed across the stones like a breath let out.
We both stepped back as if summoned back to ourselves.
He turned away. The closeness unraveled.
The stairwell back to my chambers felt colder on the way down.
My palm brushed lightly against the rough stone wall, a small point of contact and reassurance on the way down. My fingers skimmed patches of frost, caught briefly on a chipped edge where time had worn the stone soft.
We both walked in silence, like we’d both dropped something invisible between us and quietly agreed to leave it there.
At the bottom landing, he stopped. One step behind me.
I turned to face him, my back to the door in the shadowed corridor. The castle, usually a living, breathing thing of sound, was held in a profound and unnerving silence.
“I don’t want to go back in,” I whispered, surprising myself.
“I’ll stand outside. Until you sleep,” Erindor offered softly.
A lump formed in my throat. My voice caught on it. “You don’t have to—”
“I know.”
His gaze flicked to the floor. Then, slowly, back to me. The candlelight from a nearby sconce caught the edge of his cheekbone, the sharp line of his jaw, the quiet storm behind his eyes. All of it steadier than I felt.
Then I saw it—the subtle motion of his hand brushing over his coat, a light tap against the pocket near his heart. Absent-minded. Gentle.
What did he keep there, so carefully guarded?
I gave the slightest nod and turned the handle of my door.
I hesitated as I crossed the threshold.
Hesitation tightened my grip on the doorframe as I crossed the threshold. Without turning, I admitted, “If you ever do say something wildly inappropriate…I don’t think I’d mind.” My words hung in the silence before I disappeared into my room.
The room was still. Too still. Once again, someone had drawn the lace curtains closed. The mirror reflected only my silhouette, all cloak and wind-flushed cheeks. I let the fabric fall to the floor in a heap and stood by the window, one hand pressed to the glass.
The garden now felt a world away. But the warmth remained low in my chest, like a flame wrapped in ribbon, pulsing quietly as a heartbeat.
I looked down at my hands. They were still trembling. But not from fear this time. Hope possibly?
Chapter Thirty-Three
Wynessa
The next afternoon, I’d reached the landing near the servant stairwell when the page found me.
He bowed too deeply, eyes cast to the floor. “His Highness requests your presence. In the solar. Alone.”
