“Yes!” Claydon blurted.
“No,” Kallias countered in unison.
Gayle chuckled, mirroring my amusement as we studied the two men. The musicians struck up a new rhythm, and Kallias ran a hand through his hair, a rare slip in his composed demeanor.
“I don’t have it in me,” he admitted.
“Ah, yes. Your journey must have taken its toll,” Claydon offered, eager to fill the silence. “Well, do stay to watch! Evett and Miram are here tonight, and they are magnificent—a true spectacle.”
We retreated to the edges of the room, wine in hand. The drink offered no relief from the fire smoldering beneath my skin. Kallias and I stood in shared silence, an unspoken tension crackling between us as the evening unfolded.
The sun dipped below the horizon, and lanterns bloomed to life along the walls, casting warm light that scattered in fractured rays across the room. The once-bustling dance floor thinned, leaving only a few couples who moved with the grace of practiced performers. Their steps grew bolder, each motion a challenge, as if daring the others to falter.
The crowd hummed with energy. Some sat in a circle, cheering the last dancing couple. The woman’s hair clung to her damp face, her cheeks flushedfrom exertion. Her partner’s temples glistened with sweat, yet both wore triumphant smiles. They bowed to the applause, fingers interlocked, before the musicians teased them with a playful refrain, urging them into one final movement.
She leaned into him, her lips curving into a coy smile, and he sighed with a mirthful smirk, waving toward the players in surrender.
This moment was unlike the others. While Kallias and I had begun the night in a frenzied rush, this pair moved with deliberate intimacy. Each step was a seduction, every motion a silent promise. He skimmed his hand along her arm, withdrawing just before their bodies met. When she raised her leg for him to grasp, the act was languid, a slow drag that left the air charged.
My cheeks heated, and I swallowed a sip of wine, averting my gaze. Watching them seemed intrusive, as though I had stumbled into a private moment, where passion mingled with restraint.
It was a game of hot and cold. Give and take. Of secrets and truths.
Of Kallias and I.
I stole a glance at him. He stood rigid, his left hand resting on his belt, the other gripping his untouched wine. His eyes, shadowed and intent, never wavered from the couple. A muscle ticked in his jaw, and the faint scruff along his face glinted in the lantern glow.
Speckles of light danced over his mantle, and I caught my reflection in the brilliant gold. A princess who loved a king. A king bound by a blood oath. Two lovers tangled in a web. It was forbidden.
And I never wanted anything more.
Darkness wrapped everything in its embrace as we rode back to the manor. The hour hung between night and dawn, the world snared in an uneasy stillness. Crickets had fallen silent, and the birds had yet to stir. It was the quiet moment when even Radaan seemed to hold her breath, waiting to see if the sun would rise again.
When we arrived, the Sols slipped away, exhaustion evident in their brisk goodbyes. Gayle cast a sly smile in my direction, and Claydon raised his brows at the king, a silent exchange that left me smirking.
Enablers, the both of them.
“I’ve got her, Greaves,” Kallias rasped, his voice rough with fatigue.
The guard snorted. “Who’s got you?”
I caught the faintest flicker of amusement on his face. His raised brows, etched into his weathered forehead, spoke volumes.
Kallias’ gaze softened before he straightened with a shrug. “I can manage.”
Greaves gave a derisive huff, his palms lifted in mock surrender. “Just don’t get yourself killed—or worse.”
Kallias leveled a glare at him. I bit back a laugh, the tension between them lightened by familiarity. Shaking his head, the guard muttered under his breath as he disappeared into the shadows of the corridor.
The silence deepened once he was gone, leaving us alone. No servants bustled through the halls, no echoes betrayed prying ears. Only dim lanterns broke the gloom.
“Tired?” Kallias asked, his voice low.
A thrumming energy coursed through me, a restless spark I couldn’t quite name. “Not at all.”
His chuckle reverberated through the quiet. His elbow pressed my hand against his side, and he led me forward. “Then come with me.”
The manor’s darkened halls stretched ahead, their walls a blur as my focus narrowed to the warmth of his arm beneath my palm. Faint, flickering lanterns cast fleeting shadows across statues and paintings, their details lost in the gravity of his presence.
