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My home integrates directly into the cliffside overlooking the lower lakes. Dark volcanic-stone walls rise from the earth, intertwined with thick vines of glowing amber flora. Water cascades from the upper terraces, feeding into the dark expanse of the lake below. It is built for shadows, for quiet, for peace.

We step off the skiff.

Maggie stops on the stone path. Her eyes sweep over the soaring archways, the open-air courtyards, the sheer drop to the water. Her shoulders drop. Her fingers flex, brushing against the smooth surface of a dark stone pillar.

“No bunker doors,” she murmurs. “No automated turrets.”

“No Ghorvek,” I reply, walking beside her toward the main entrance. “The perimeter is secured by the capital’s defense grid, but the estate itself is open. We value the air.”

She steps inside.

The interior features soaring ceilings, dark timber beams, and vast windows framing the starry sky. Amber light pools in the corners, casting long, warm shadows over the polished stone floors.

Maggie stands in the center of the foyer, trying to maintain her rigid, unimpressed facade. She presses her deep-red lips into a flat line. She adjusts the cuffs of her jacket.

But it doesn’t work.

Her gaze drifts to the massive hearth, then to the library archway filled with physical texts collected over centuries. A tiny, completely unguarded sigh slips past her lips.

She likes it.

The realization makes my eyes narrow with pleasure. My match approves of my territory. The primitive, biological satisfaction is staggering. A hot rush of pride floods my veins, making my neural filaments pulse brighter.

“It is acceptable,” she deadpans, turning to face me.

“Acceptable.” I bite the inside of my cheek to hide my grin. “I will inform the architects they met your baseline requirements.”

“Don’t encourage them. They’ll start adding pointless decorative battlements.”

I lead her down the eastern hall, our footsteps echoing against the stone. The air smells of fresh water and sweet moss.

We stop at the end of the corridor. The heavy wooden doors slide open on silent tracks, revealing the guest suite. It mirrors the rest of the house—spacious, bathed in warm light, with a massive bed and a balcony hanging directly over the cliff edge. The sound of the waterfall rushing into the lake fills the room.

Maggie walks past me, dropping her canvas duffel onto a low bench. She walks straight to the balcony, staring out at our moons reflecting on the dark water.

I linger in the doorway.

The urge to step inside, to close the heavy doors and eliminate the remaining space between us, is strong. My twin hearts pound in my chest. I can still taste the salt and tea on her mouth. I can still feel the brutal, perfect friction of her thighs straddling mine in the cockpit of my ship.

I grip the edge of the doorframe, reminding myself that I am playing a long game. A siege. If I push her into a corner tonight, she will rebuild her ice walls before dawn.

Maggie turns around, leaning her hips against the balcony railing. The breeze catches her dark hair, tossing the fringe across her forehead.

“You aren’t coming in.” She phrases it as an observation, not a question.

“I am exercising remarkable restraint.” I lean against the doorframe, crossing my arms over my chest to hide the tension locking my muscles. “Tomorrow is Kairen and Tara’s match ceremony. The entire capital will be awake before firstlight. You require actual sleep.”

Her blue eyes track the glowing orange veins along my neck. A flush rises to her cheeks, a dark, beautiful pink that betrays the memories playing behind her unblinking stare.

“I function perfectly well on four hours,” she counters, her voice dropping a fraction of an octave.

“You will get eight.” I push off the wood, taking a single step backward into the hall. The physical distance feels like a plasma blade dragging across my ribs. “Rest, Commander. Tomorrow, we watch my prince bind himself to his human for the rest of eternity.”

She holds my gaze. The air between us crackles, thick with the unsaid words, the unacknowledged chemistry that terrifies her so completely.

“Goodnight, Spymaster.”

“Goodnight, Maggie.”