I froze, caught off guard by the warmth of his touch. His presence was magnetic, pulling me in like the sun itself—bright, intense, and impossible to ignore. I couldn't seem to focus on anything else but the way he looked at me, the way his fingers lingered near my skin.
For a moment, the weight of everything else, the chaos, the danger, it all slipped away, leaving just the two of us in a quiet, still space. The air between us thickened, charged with something unspoken. I felt my breath catch, but I forced myself to break away from the pull.
“I should go,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.
Leo leaned in close enough for me to feel his breath on my lips. My heart pounded in my chest.
“Don’t.” Leo’s voice was low, warm, threading through the space between us. “Stay. Forever if you want to. We have plenty of room here.”
The words wrapped around me, soft and dangerous. I trembled, my heart tripping over itself.
But I forced a small smile and stepped back, the distance cold even before it grew.
Leo sighed, the sound rougher than before, but he didn’t try to stop me.
“I’m sure Thorne wouldloveto come back and find I’d moved in,” I muttered, tugging my boots on with jerky, awkward movements.
Leo chuckled under his breath, a low rumble that warmed the space between us. “He’d probably be happier than you think.”
I snorted in disbelief, not daring to look at him. “Yeah, right. He hates me. Right now, I’m useful to him, that’s all.”
Leo’s laughter faded, his expression softening, the teasing draining away until there was nothing left but something raw and sincere in his eyes.
Leo’s expression softened, a hint of something genuine flickering in his gaze. “Elle, that’s not true…”
Before I could respond, a low groan came from the other room. My attention snapped to the sound, and Leo’s gaze followed mine. We both rushed toward it, and I found Slade—still looking like he was about to collapse—struggling to make his way to the bathroom. His pants were halfway undone, and he was struggling to loosen them, clearly trying—and failing—to maintain his dignity.
When he saw me, he froze, his face hardening in a flash of embarrassment. I could almost feel the weight of his humiliation from across the room.
“Oops,” Leo said, flashing a grin before he breezed past me, his voice dripping with mock sympathy. “Duty calls, angel.”
Slade gave him a sharp look, and I could see the familiar irritation in his eyes.
I stepped back and looked away, trying to give Slade some semblance of privacy. He wasn’t one for showing weakness, and I wasn’t about to make that worse. When Slade’s door shut in front of me with a quiet click, I took it as my cue to leave. I ducked out of the apartment, careful not to make a sound.
The walk back to my room felt longer than usual—cold, quiet, and empty. The well-lit hallways did nothing to ease the tightening knot in my chest. Every step felt like it echoed louder than the last, and every inch of the stone beneath my boots seemed colder.
I barely registered the motion of reaching my door until I saw it—the door was slightly ajar. That wasn’t right. My hand instinctively went for the hilt of the blade Thorne had given me, fingers brushing its cool metal.
I hesitated before pushing the door open slowly.
I stepped further into the room, the weight of the silence pressing down on me. That’s when I saw it.
Laid out on the bed, almost too perfect, was a dress. At first, I thought it was just a trick of the light, a shadow playing tricks. But as I moved closer, the fabric shimmered, its soft silk catching the flicker of the candles.
It was beautiful—impossibly beautiful.
The colour was a deep, midnight blue, like the sky just before it gave way to night. It seemed to shift in the light, the fabric rich and fluid, laid out on my simple single bed for display. The bodice was adorned with delicate embroidery—swirls of silver thread that glistened like stars scattered across the night sky. The hem of the skirt flowed in soft waves, and there were tiny crystals sewn into the fabric, catching the light and scattering it like shattered pieces of the moon. It looked like something a queen would wear, not someone like me.
My fingers grazed the edges of the dress, tracing the intricate designs, a part of me transfixed by its sheer elegance. It was beautiful in a way that made my heart ache, as if it didn’t belong in my world.
But what terrified me the most was the note sitting next to it.
With shaking hands, I picked it up. The paper was thick, high-quality—expensive. The ink was dark, bold, and the words were simple:
Elira, please join me for dinner Friday. Yours affectionately, - A
My breath hitched. A chill ran down my spine. I didn’t need to be told twice. This was an order, not an invitation. My stomach twisted as the realization settled in. The king had summoned me.
