"I don't know how," I protested, but he was already pulling me to my feet.
"Then let me teach you."
The dance was simple—more of a gentle swaying with steps that followed the music's natural rhythm. But with Kaelen's hands guiding me, one at my waistand the other clasped in mine, it felt like the most complex and beautiful thing I'd ever attempted. His body was warm against mine, his breath soft against my ear when he whispered instructions.
"You're a natural," he murmured as we moved together.
"I have a good teacher."
When we finally walked back through the moonlit streets, I felt drunk on more than wine. This was who I could be away from military expectations—someone who laughed easily, who moved with grace, who fit into any gathering because I was genuinely interested in other people rather than constantly measuring myself against impossible standards.
On another night, Kaelen led me to small shrines scattered throughout the palace complex like hidden gems—tiny temples dedicated to minor gods and goddesses that most people passed without noticing. He shared them with the enthusiasm of someone revealing his most precious secrets.
"This one's my favorite," he said, guiding me through a narrow archway into a circular chamber barely large enough for two people.
The shrine was dedicated to Lyra, goddess of new beginnings, and everything about it whispered of hope and possibility. Fresh flowers adorned a simple altar. Candles cast dancing shadows across frescoes that depicted scenes of transformation—seeds becoming trees, dawn breaking over dark water, lovers meeting for the first time.
"I came here when I first arrived on Eletheria,"Kaelen said softly. "I was homesick, overwhelmed, certain I'd made a terrible mistake. I lit a candle and asked Lyra to help me find my place here."
"And did she?"
"I thought so at the time. But now..." He turned to look at me, candlelight painting his features in gold and shadow. "Now I think she was preparing me for something specific. Someone specific."
I moved to the altar and picked up one of the small candles waiting there. "May I?"
The flame caught immediately, steady and bright.
"What are you asking for?" he asked.
"Courage," I said. "To be who I really am, even when it's difficult. To trust what I feel rather than what I've been taught I should feel."
"And what do you feel?"
I turned to face him in the small space. "Like I've been sleepwalking my entire life until now. Like everything that came before was just preparation for this moment, this connection, this person who sees me clearly enough to know what I need before I know it myself."
His hands rose to frame my face. "It's not too much. It's not too fast. It's exactly what I've been feeling too."
The kiss that followed was different from our others—deeper, more claiming, flavored with the certainty of recognition. When we parted, I felt marked by something larger than desire.
Our final clandestine meeting took place in a secret courtyard Kaelen claimed to have found byaccident, though I suspected he'd been saving it for this particular evening. It was tucked behind the Temple of Vethys, accessible only through a narrow passage between ancient walls.
The space was breathtaking—a perfect circle enclosed by high walls, with a fountain at its center and flowering vines that climbed toward the star-drunk sky. Moonlight poured down unobstructed, turning everything silver and luminous.
We stayed in the hidden garden until dawn approached, talking and kissing and simply being together in the way that felt most natural. No performances, no careful navigation of expected roles—just two people who had found something rare and precious.
"This feels more real than any ceremony could make it," I said as we finally prepared to leave.
"Because it is real," Kaelen replied. "What we've built these nights, what we've discovered about ourselves and each other—that's the foundation everything else will rest on."
As I watched him disappear toward the scholarly wing, the first hint of sunrise beginning to chase away shadows, I felt a peace I'd never known settle in my chest.
Tomorrow at sunset would bring ceremony and witnesses and the formal beginning of our partnership. But what mattered—what was real—had already begun in moonlit gardens and secret conversations, in discoveries that had nothing to do with our Ordersand everything to do with the recognition of two souls finding their perfect complement.
Whatever tomorrow brought, we would face it together.
And for the first time in my life, that felt like enough.
Chapter
