His face seemed almost alive with boyish energy. Blue eyes glittered with amusement, and his rare, unguarded smile carved warmth into his features. “Greaves.”
I couldn’t help but snicker. Whatever plan he’d crafted to avoid his ever-present shadow had worked. At the end of another passage, he shoved a door open and nudged me inside. The room swallowed me in darkness, the only light spilling in from the hall.
“One moment.” His tone was soft, unhurried, though his movements were swift. He found a lantern on a nearby table, his hands deft as he struck a flame. The warm glow illuminated his features, then he leaned against the door, pushing it shut with a quiet click.
“He would’ve noticed the…” His voice faltered, words dying mid-sentence as his gaze swept over me.
I froze, clutching the edges of my cape tighter. The blue fabric hid what the thin white silk beneath did not. His expression shifted, the playful warmth replaced by something darker. The wrinkle between his brows deepened as if he only now realized the precarious intimacy of the moment.
Silence settled between us, heavy and awkward. My cheeks burned under his scrutiny, and I turned, focusing on the room he’d chosen for our escape.
Books lined the walls from floor to ceiling, their spines a rainbow of muted tones in the lantern’s glow. Shadows pooled in the corners, adding a mysterious air to the space. A small sofa sat at the room’s center flanked by modest tables, its fabric worn with use.
I kept my gaze on the shelves, my fingers skimming the edge of a table as Kallias approached me. Anything to hold my attention away from him.
His low murmur broke the stillness, “I should’ve warned you—”
Warn me? Of the dangers of slipping into a darkened room with a man who haunted my dreams?
“—the kahve might keep you up,” he continued, stepping closer.
His tone softened, but the tension in his frame remained. I forced myself to meet his eyes, though the guarded expression there stung. The light-hearted man from the halls had vanished, replaced by someone measured, his feelings hidden behind a mask I longed to tear away.
“What do you do when it keeps you awake?” I asked, the question barely audible as I clutched my cape tighter, the fabric creasing beneath my fingers.
Kallias studied my face, his gaze lingering. When he cleared his throat, he gestured to the shelves. “I read. It quiets my mind. Care to join me?”
The thought of reading beside him felt anything but calming. Yet my head betrayed me, nodding in agreement.
“Choose whatever catches your eye,” he said, moving past me to pick up a book from a nearby table. He lowered himself onto the sofa, the cushions shifting under his weight. “This is the northern library. Most of these are about legends or history—dry enough to put even the restless to sleep.” He crossed an ankle over his knee, then opened the tome to a page marked by a delicate black feather.
I swallowed the lump in my throat and turned toward the shelves. Anything would be better than thinking about my sheer nightdress or the magnetic pull of his presence.
The books bore worn spines, their titles embossed in fading gold. They smelled of leather and ink, a comforting combination. How many of these had he read? How many sleepless nights brought him here to find solace in their pages?
I skimmed the rows.‘History of the Aenor.’ ‘History of the Agolaths.’ Apostos. Azarat.The titles blurred into monotony. Skipping a few shelves, I crouched to scan another section, the flickering lantern light casting long shadows across the bindings.
‘Tale of Isa and Vane.’‘Tales from the Crater of Gods.’My fingers paused on the latter, its dark cover inviting in a way the others hadn’t. “The crater?” I called out, pulling it free.
Kallias didn’t look up. “A meteor struck the northern lands long ago. The area’s… unique. Life there flourishes in strange ways—enough to inspire stories of mammoths and other curiosities.”
I cradled the book, flipping it open as I wandered to the sofa. “The tales within these pages have been recorded from firsthand accounts and verified by multiple sources,” I read aloud, settling on the farthest edge of the cushion. Its plush fabric enveloped me as I perched, unwilling to relax too much.
“Keep your wits about you with that one,” he said, throwing an arm over the backrest.
I kicked off my slippers, tucked a leg beneath me, and stretched the other in his direction. He glanced at it, then swallowed before his attention returned to his book.
That’s when I noticed. He looked… different. His usual mantle, adorned with golden chains and gleaming pauldrons, was absent. Instead, a simple dark green tunic embroidered with gold thread softened his appearance. Black trousers tucked into polished boots gleamed in the lantern light.
For once, he wasn’t the king of Radaan. He was just Kallias.
I adjusted my cape over my lap, then stared down at the open book in my hands. Draconia held its own myths of merfolk, sea serpents—entire worlds beneath the surface. What mysteries would a crater offer?
I read the same paragraph over and over, unable to absorb a single word. After a few moments, I flipped the page to keep up appearances, then stole another glance at him. He tilted his head at something in his book, his lips pressing into a thoughtful line. His finger traced the page’s edge before he turned it, the subtle movement drawing my attention. My heart thudded in my chest, heat rising to my cheeks. I skipped to another page.
“You’re a quick reader,” he said without looking up.
I peered over the rim of my book, hiding behind it like a shield. “It’s interesting,” I blurted, my response tumbling out too fast.
