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The questions twist into something darker as the faces of my past creep in. My father, with his expecting eyes and words sharpened into barbs. Malis, always watching, always waiting, his machinations storms I was too weak to weather. Raven, whispering promises now turned to haunting betrayals. And Keres, the cruelest of them all. They all want something from me, and they have all taken from me. Even when some pretended to care, every action, every word came with a cost I had to pay.
What if Lyxander is the same?
We reach our destination faster than I anticipated, and Xerxes guides us until we’re sequestered in the chambers reserved for Arkhadia’s royal family. The others pause within the open seating area.
I don’t stop. I can’t.
Each step carries me deeper into a warren of empty rooms as my breaths come in short, sharp pants. And, like a shadow, I sense Lyxander right behind me. Silent, unshakable.
I push through a door at the end of the hall and stumble to a halt. There’s nowhere else to go, no exit to flee through. My focus draws unerringly to the tall, arched window across from me, framing the night outside. I pace toward it, the chill seeping in as I grip the edge of its sill and lean my forehead against the pane, letting my eyes flutter shut.
The door closes behind me, its lock snapping shut.
Lyxander doesn’t need to say anything for me to know he’s there. Every part of me recognizes the space he fills within a room, the familiar hum coaxing me to turn around. Opening my eyes, I study his reflection in the glass.
“Look at me, Aella.”
Tugging the charmed cuff from my wrist, I let it fall; it hits the marble with a soft ring that sounds too loud in the quiet. If I’m going to face him, it will be as myself.
Slowly, I turn. “Why did you follow me?”
“Do you really need me to answer that, Stormwind?”
The name is disarming in its gentleness, and I resent how it finds the soft parts of me so easily. Anger rushes in, too fast, too familiar.
“Yes, Lyxander,” I snap. “No one ever does anything unless they have a reason to. Everyone twists their promises into power or pain. Everyone wants something. Why should you be different? Did you imagine I’d emerge and you could sit me on some throne to challenge Khione? Did you think you could fashion me into a puppet for your whims? If so, you failed.”
His expression doesn’t waver immediately. There’s restraint there, but then his breath rushes from him on a rough exhale, and when his gaze meets mine this time, it blazes with resolve.
He steps forward.
“I followed you because I have not known a moment of peace since you left.”
He takes another step closer to me.
The space between us shrinks, and with it, the air seems to thin. My pulse thrums in my ears.
“I followed you,” he continues, “because every room in my tower, every place that once felt like home now echoes with your absence.”
Another step.
But this time, he doesn’t stop.
He closes the distance, until all that exists is him, his breath, his voice, the unrelenting force of his gaze pinning me where I stand. The glass of the window presses cold against my spine, an icy counterpoint to the heat of him.
“I followed you,” he says again, softer now, his tone dipping into something raw. “Because I am choosing you. I am not here for anything else, not for anyone else—only you.”
Step.
The sliver of space left between us somehow feels like a chasm. Then his hand rises, gently curving around the back of my neck, and he tugs me forward, bridging the final gap.
“Tell me no, and I’ll walk away. But if you want this—if you want me—then say nothing at all.”
My throat tightens, each second dragging on as if time itself is determined to amplify the chaos swirling in my chest. I’m trapped in this liminal space, caught between action and stillness.
I neither move nor speak.
His breath breaks against my lips as his eyes search my face. And despite his words, I know he’s seeking permission in my expression. All I can manage is a slight dip of my chin, and then his lips crash into mine.
