I felt different as we approached the palace complex. More grounded, more certain of who I was and what I wanted. The dominant instincts that had stirred during our conversation were stronger now, clearer. When Rion had surrendered to my guidance during our kiss, when he'd let me lead withoutquestion or resistance, it had felt like coming home to myself.
"Tomorrow night?" I asked as we reached the point where our paths diverged.
"Tomorrow night," he agreed. "Though I should warn you—I may not be able to concentrate on anything else until then."
His smile was soft, satisfied, transformative. This was who he was when not forced into ill-fitting roles—someone warm and genuine and breathtakingly attractive in his authenticity.
"Good," I said. "I don't want you to concentrate on anything else."
I watched him disappear toward the militant quarters before turning toward my own wing, mind already spinning with possibilities. Three more nights to explore what was building between us. Three more chances to discover how perfectly our authentic selves aligned.
Three more days until we would have to face the formal bonding ceremony and find a way to honor both expectations and personal truth.
The challenge felt daunting but not impossible. Not when I had such clarity about what I wanted, about who I was meant to be in this partnership.
As I slipped back into my quarters just as the morning bells began to ring, I caught sight of myself in the small mirror beside my washing basin. The man looking back at me was confident, purposeful, alive with possibility.
I was ready to claim what I wanted.
And what I wanted was Rion—completely, authentically,permanently.
Chapter
Seven
RION
Time became a strange creature in the days that followed our first meeting—crawling during daylight hours when duty demanded my attention, then racing through darkness when Kaelen and I explored the growing connection between us. I moved through my military obligations like a man walking through dreams, present in body but with my thoughts constantly drifting toward evening and whatever discoveries awaited.
Training sessions that once demanded my complete focus now felt like elaborate performances. I sparred with fellow militants, reviewed tactical reports, attended briefings about patrol schedules and supply requisitions, but underneath it all ran a constant current of anticipation. Something fundamental had shifted in how I saw myself, how I moved through the world.
Talis noticed the change first, commenting during morning weapons practice that I seemed "unusuallyrelaxed" for someone approaching such a significant ritual. Alyon was more direct, observing with his typical bluntness that I looked like a man either completely confident in his upcoming bond or completely besotted with his partner.
Both observations were accurate in ways I couldn't afford to acknowledge publicly.
The nights belonged to us—to secret meetings and whispered conversations, to discoveries that had nothing to do with formal compatibility assessments and everything to do with the way Kaelen's laugh made my chest warm, the way his hand felt when it brushed against mine, the growing certainty that what we were building together mattered more than any institutional expectation.
Each dawn found me changed in small but significant ways. More settled. More confident in who I was when not performing the role of perfect militant officer. More certain that the surrender I felt in Kaelen's presence wasn't weakness but recognition—the profound relief of finding someone strong enough, sure enough, kind enough to let me be authentic rather than performative.
By the time Captain Thane began to notice my transformation, I had learned to interpret it as evidence of successful preparation rather than revealing its true source.
"You seem more centered," he observed during our weekly conference. "Whatever anxiety you were carrying has clearly resolved itself."
If only he knew that my centeredness came notfrom conquering anxiety but from embracing it—from admitting that everything I'd been taught about my role in partnerships felt fundamentally wrong, and finding in that admission not despair but liberation.
Unable to sleep one evening, I spotted Kaelen outside my window. The palace gardens stretched silver beneath the moon, and there he was—a figure in scholar's robes moving with quiet purpose along the shadowed paths.
I dressed quickly and slipped from the barracks, following the pull of something I couldn't name. I found him in a small courtyard I'd never noticed before, sitting on the edge of a fountain with his face turned toward the stars.
"Couldn't sleep either?" I asked softly.
He turned, and his smile was like dawn breaking. "The bond ceremony has a way of occupying one's thoughts. Though I suspect for different reasons than most people expect."
We talked for hours that first night—careful conversation that skirted the edges of deeper truths. He shared fruit from the palace orchards, peaches so ripe the juice ran down our fingers as we ate. I told him about my childhood on the outer islands, about the fishing boats that had carried me to temple service, about the strange homesickness that struck when I least expected it.
"What do you miss most?" he asked, offering me another piece of fruit.
"The simplicity," I said without thinking. "Knowing exactly what was expected, what role toplay, what each day would bring. Here..." I gestured at the palace rising around us, all marble and ceremony and careful protocol. "Here, everything feels like performance."
