True to his word, he remains still, his back rigid, as if he’s fighting something inside himself. I toss the nightgown to the ground and quickly grab his shirt, the fabric soft and smooth as I pull it over my arms and button it up.
But as I dress, a part of me wishes hewouldlook. Just once. To feel his gaze on my skin, to know that he might want me the way I want him.
I swallow the thought as I finish buttoning the shirt, the silk clinging to my damp skin. I take a deep breath, trying to stand tall even though the cold still gnaws at me. My hands shake as I push my damp hair away from my face, clearing my throat.
“I’m finished,” I say, my voice barely more than a croak.
Daed turns, achingly slow, as though dragging out the moment is a deliberate torment. When his gray eyes finally meet mine, it feels like the world stills. His gaze starts at my bare feet, one stacked over the other to fight the cold, then moves upward, lingering on my knees pressed tightly together, traveling further to where his shirt hangs loosely at mid-thigh. He takes his time, as if every inch of me is his to study, as though it is his right to look as long as he wishes. His eyes trace my body beneath the fabric, and when he finally reaches my face, I hear him exhale, a breath he seems to have been holding for far too long, trying—and failing—to rein in his control. The effort shows in his gaze, which falters just enough to reveal how much I unsettle him.
The fire in the hearth has caught now, flames crackling and casting flickering shadows across the stone walls. The storm rages outside, relentless rain beating against the stone, punctuated by the violent cracks of lightning that tear the night sky apart. Thunder rumbles like a threat, shaking the very bones of the fortress, but the only thing more unsettling is the intensity in Daed’s eyes. His face is half-hidden by the shadows, his chin dipped slightly as he watches me from beneath the heavy weight of his brow.
“Get into the bed,” he commands, his voice deep and rough.
The way he says it weakens my knees. A warmth spreads through me, unwelcome yet unstoppable, the heat clashing with the remnants of cold still clinging to my skin. My body betrays me, trembling under his command, and pressing my knees together only barely holds back the storm of desire that surges within me.
I glance at the bed—enormous and braced with four dark wood posts, intricately carved, with a midnight blue canopy billowing in the wind that seeps from the balcony. The blankets, deep blue like the night sky, are threaded with silver patterns, like stars, and dozens of silk pillows are scattered across the elaborately carved headboard. I hesitate, unsure if I can cross that distance.
Daed watches me, and I feel the weight of his impatience when I don't move. A low growl escapes him, and he steps forward, closing the distance between us. His hands hover over my shoulders again, and for a moment I think he’ll pull back like he has before—but this time, his fingers grip me. The warmth of his touch seeps through the thin fabric of his shirt, his hands solid and strong against my skin.
“You’re still freezing,” he murmurs, his voice softer now, but no less commanding. “Get into the bed.”
When I don’t move fast enough, he begins to lose his patience. “Fine. If you won't move, I will.”
Without warning, he scoops me up effortlessly, and my hands instinctively loop around his neck. His scent—salt and wine—floods my senses, and despite everything, I feel safe, as though I’ve never been safer in my life. The warmth from his body seeps into mine, more potent than any fire, igniting something deep within me that I’ve tried so hard to ignore.
He carries me to the bed, and for a brief, stolen moment, our eyes lock. There’s something unspoken between us, something we can’t begin to understand. We are bound by forces neither of us asked for—him, with his indulgent, reckless nature, and me, clinging to a pious duty that frustrates him as much as his recklessness infuriates me.
But here, now, all of that fades away.
In the privacy of this room, with the storm howling beyond the walls, we are just two people—lost and aching to be seen. For once, we are not warriors, not rulers, not bound by responsibilities to anyone but ourselves. We are flesh, blood, and bone—desperate to be touched, to be desired… To be loved.
Daed lowers me onto the bed with such care, his fingers lingering on my skin. He pulls his hands away slowly, as though parting from me is a battle in itself. When his final fingertip slips from my arm, I feel the ache of its absence, the silent wish that he would return, that he would stay.
He tugs the blankets over me, pulling them up to my chin, his touch firm but gentle, and then steps back. He doesn’t say anything, just watches me, his gaze heavy with a tension that makes my heart race. The silence between us is suffocating, the air thick with possibilities. My mind races, wondering if he’ll come to me, if he’ll lie beside me, caress my face, hold me the way I’ve longed for. If we’ll fall into each other, giving in to the unspoken yearning that has haunted every shared glance.
But instead, he takes another step back. My chest tightens as I watch him retreat, lowering himself into a high-backed chairin the corner of the room. Shadows swallow him, leaving only the sharp outline of his strong form and the gleam of his eyes watching me from the darkness.
Disappointment hits me hard, sinking like a stone into my stomach. I feel it settle there, heavy and unyielding, but my pride refuses to show it. I turn into the soft embrace of the bed, the warmth of the covers finally easing the cold, but doing nothing to quell the ache in my chest.
He watches me still, a silent sentinel in the dark. Neither of us says a word, but the distance between us, though just a few steps, feels impossible to bridge.
My eyes grow heavy, the exhaustion weighing me down, and I manage to stutter out the words that have been lodged in my throat.
“Thank you,” I murmur, my voice barely above a whisper. “For saving me from Modok.”
A low growl rumbles from his chest, vibrating through the shadows as he leans back, his face disappearing into the darkness. “Whether you wish to be here or not, you areminenow," he says, his voice a slow burn of possession, "and I will protect you at all costs. I will slaughter any who dare treat you as less than a Mordorin queen.”
Thunder crashes outside, but the sound has become oddly soothing, blending into the rhythm of the rain and wind. It calms me in a way I didn’t expect, lulling me, though my thoughts remain tangled in the tension between us. This unspoken thing, whatever it is, grows stronger with every glance, every word exchanged. At first, it was only our bodies responding to the magnetic pull between us. Now, it's becoming something more, something deeper. The warrior I once doubted is slipping into a place where trust might soon follow, but there’s still so much unknown. So much about him I cannot yet give myself over to, no matter how fiercely my body yearns for him.
My eyes drift toward the fire, flames dancing beneath the portrait above the mantel—a beautiful Fae woman, her hands cradling her swollen belly, a serene smile playing on her lips. I must know who she is, the story she holds, but now is not the time. My eyelids grow heavier, and before I can think of it further, sleep overtakes me.
The last thing I see is Daed, still watching me, his gaze never wavering as I slip into dreamless darkness.
Chapter 17
When I wake, Daed is gone.
The embers in the fireplace barely flicker, their warmth fading as quickly as the remnants of what could have been. The memory of him still clings to my skin, a cruel reminder of the closeness we shared, and yet I’m left to return to my room alone. Again. When I arrive, Solena is waiting outside, her face plagued with concern.
