Click.
Click.
“Hold that.”
She tried very hard not to roll her eyes.
“Great,” the cyclops said after a few shots. “And now kiss.”
Liora glanced at Maldenis. “Okay,” she said dryly. “Here we go.”
He smirked. Then he leaned in, and Liora had expected something staged: quick, polite, something meant only for the camera. Instead, the moment slowed in a way she hadn’t prepared for.
His hand settled lightly at her waist, steady and warm through the thin fabric of her dress, and when his lips met hers, it was softer than she expected. Not demanding. Not showy. Just a quiet press that lingered a fraction longer than a performance required. It pulled her mind straight back to the spring, the cool water around her skin, the curl of his tail around her waist, the reckless heat of that night. The memory slipped under her guard before she could stop it.
For a moment, she forgot about the lights, the cameras, the monsters watching from every corner of the studio. The kiss stirred something unsettlingly familiar, like a spark catching on dry tinder. Her stomach fluttered in a way she didn’t appreciate, and her breath hitched just slightly.
Click, click, click.
She immediately blamed the situation, the ridiculous spectacle of it all, the lingering adrenaline from being thrown into this whole marriage mess. It had to be that. Still, when they separated, and she looked at him again, she had the uncomfortable realization that the kiss hadn’t felt fake at all—and that bothered her far more than it should have.
Click, click.
“Got it!” the photographer called happily. “Perfect. Let’s move to the next setup!”
They pulled apart, and for a brief moment, they just looked at each other.
Liora became acutely aware of her breathing that felt too quick and too shallow, and his, deeper, slower, but just as unsteady beneath the surface. The rhythm didn’t quite match, her chest, rising a fraction faster, like her body hadn’t realized the moment was over. Or maybe it hadn’t been.
His gaze held hers, close enough that she could still feel the ghost of him, his warmth, the pressure of his hand and the echo of the kiss that had been meant for an audience but hadn’t felt like it.
She forced her breath steady, even as the air between them seemed to tighten with something unspoken.
Then Seraphelle was gesturing them forward. “This way.”
They followed her across the studio again to another elaborate scene, this one even lighter, with gray stone columns and glowing runic patterns along the floor. The cyclops pointed to two marks again. “Stand there.”
They slid into place.
The photographer adjusted the camera, frowned slightly, then lowered it. “Actually…we need a minute.” He waved to one of the assistants adjusting a lighting rig above them.
“Hold there.”
Liora exhaled slowly. “Well,” she muttered, “that wasn’t awkward at all.”
Maldenis glanced sideways at her. “You did fine.”
She gave him a suspicious look. “You enjoyed that way too much.”
He shrugged lightly. “You’re the one who said ‘here we go’ like we were about to jump off a cliff.”
A small laugh escaped her before she could stop it. Then she leaned slightly closer and murmured. “Just remember this is temporary.”
He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he looked toward the lighting crew, who were fixing the setup, then back at her. “Of course,” he said.
But something in his expression had shifted just a little.
While the crew fussed with the lights and someone argued quietly about the angle of a reflector, Liora stood on her mark and tried to look like a person who wasn’t trapped in a very public, very elaborate mistake.
