We passed my rooms, heading deeper into the estate. Questions stirred, each step tightening a knot of nerves. Was he leading me to his chambers? The thought sent a jolt through me, but before I could voice it, we rounded a corner—and my breath caught.
The corridor opened into an expanse alive with greenery. Stone tiles gave way to soft moss underfoot, its lush texture absorbing the sound of our steps. Shrubs and flowers spilled over pathways, and trees—some slender, others towering—reached toward a ceiling of glass.
Moonlight poured through the panes, painting the garden in a silvery glow. Shadows mingled with soft light, and the space seemed to stretch. Foliage obscured the far wall, creating the illusion of a boundless forest.
“The gardens,” Kallias said, his deep voice reverent.
“One would think gardens belonged outside,” I murmured, laughter slipping out as I moved forward, my hand sliding free of his.
“They wouldn’t survive the Kuh’lir.”
Trailing my fingers along a massive leaf, I marveled at its size—as broad as a dragon’s claw. These plants seemed foreign, more suited to the southern lowlands than the cold heights of the mountains. Warmth lingered in the air, a product of sunlight trapped by the glass ceiling, nurturing the lush array of life within.
A blossom the size of my head drew me closer. Its pristine white petals—like silk beneath my touch. Its sweet fragrance mingled with the earthy scent of moss and stone. I could almost believe we stood in the heart of a wild forest, far from the confines of the manor.
“Moonstar. It blooms at night.” His voice came from behind me, warm and close, though he didn’t touch me.
“It’s beautiful.”
“It pales in comparison to you.”
A shiver curled through me, and the sudden rush of butterflies in my stomach felt more like a storm than a flutter. My breath hitched, throat dry as my heart stumbled over itself.
The world outside the glass garden had vanished. No people, no noise, just moonlight and shadows. He and I stood cloaked in this hidden space, lost in the quiet companionship of flowers and stars.
His hand grazed my side, light as the whisper of wind. “Come,” he murmured near my ear, his breath a soft tickle before he stepped away.
My chest tightened as I fought to reclaim my composure. Each step he took down the mossy path seemed to pull me with invisible threads, his silhouette commanding under the silver glow of the moon. How far would I go tonight? How far would he allow?
And what boundaries would I dare to test?
The soft rays of moonlight caught his mantle in brief gaps between the trees, reminding me he was not just Kallias. He still shouldered his nation, and yet he was sharing this moment with me.
My mouth went dry as I stared at his body. He moved with such power and grace. He carried himself unlike any other man I had met. Strength coiled with every step, his shoulders softly rocking with his strides.
The path opened to a clearing bathed in cool light. Glass panels arched overhead, framing the stars, while the ground, covered in moss, cradled a small pond. Purple spires of flowers swayed alongside delicate lilies, their petals glowing like fragile cups of light.
Kallias paused, sinking to the earth, his mantle shifting with the movement. One leg stretched out, the other bent, his arm draped across his knee. The moon’s silver glow caught his face, softening the sharp lines and the tension he carried.
Exhilaration rushed through me. A king was at my knees.
I sank down beside him, my thigh brushing his. We turned to the stars that winked down at us. They seemed to laugh at how close we were, and yet so far. It clawed at my heart, tearing pieces from it. Wanton desire mixed with a sense of duty and loyalty.
“Do you ever dream of being a common man?” The words slipped out, softer than I’d intended.
He didn’t answer at first. The stillness stretched, his gaze fixed on the stars as though they held the answers.
“I think it best not to dwell on what can’t be.” His voice carried a soft resignation. “I was born a prince, destined to be king. Just as you are a princess who will one day be queen.”
“But not yours.”
His breath caught.
“No.”
The quiet honesty of the word gutted me, even though I’d expected it. A lump clogged my throat, and I blinked hard against the blur of stars overhead.
“Do you have regrets?” My voice wavered, but I couldn’t bring myself to face him.
