A singledrop of melted frost fell from the ceiling, hissing softly as it hit the floor. The sound broke something open.
She moved. Or I did. It didn’t matter. One instant we were still; the next I’d crossed the space between us. Her back struck the pillar, silk meeting ice. The gasp that escaped her was small, involuntary—a pure, helpless sound—and every part of me answered it.
“Don’t,” I whispered. Not command, not warning—plea.
“Then stop looking at me like that.”
“I can’t.”
I braced one gloved hand beside her head. The frost beneath my palm fractured in a thin glowing line, silver bleeding through the crack. The heat of my own breath drifted over her cheek, carrying the scent of steel and pine—the only things I’d ever trusted.
“Kaelith,” she said, soft enough to undo me.
Her voice on my name. That was all it took. My vision blurred at the edges; the corridor narrowed until nothing existed but her and the steady rhythm of my heart trying to escape its cage.
“Say my name again,” I heard myself murmur.
“Why?”
“So I’ll remember it when this”—I gestured between us—“ruins everything.”
I thought she would laugh. Instead, she whispered, “Kaelith.”
I closed my eyes, almost stepping back. Almost. But when I opened them again, there was no distance left to rebuild.
The silence shattered.
The first brush of her mouth was weightless, almost imagined. Cold and heat meeting halfway. A question neither of us wanted answered. Then the question became certainty.
The second kiss broke through everything. Heat slid between us, steady, consuming. My gloved fingers found her jaw, then pulled the glove free because I needed tofeel. Skin to skin. The frost hissed beneath us, water tracing slow paths down the pillar.
She clutched at my tunic; I felt the tremor in her grip and matched it. Each breath she gave me tasted like the life I’d forgotten to want.
I kissed her again, slower, deeper, trying to memorize the shape of this impossible warmth. The world around us melted—literally melted. Droplets fell in soft rhythm while her hands pressed against my chest, finding the frantic beat beneath armor that had never been meant to hold a heart.
When I broke away, it wasn’t to end it—it was to survive. I pressed my forehead to hers, breath uneven.
“This is madness,” I murmured. The words scraped raw.
“Then stop,” she whispered.
I didn’t.
My half-gloved hand slid to her waist, drawing her close again. Every muscle ached with restraint. One wrong move and the entire Hold would know how close I was to breaking.
Her fingers brushed the back of my neck, and the small sound I made was one I’d never heard from myself. The frost cracked behind my hand, light bleeding through.
“Kaelith,” she breathed.
I met her eyes. My thumb brushed her lower lip once, slow enough to hurt. “I can’t—” The words dissolved against her mouth before I could finish them. I kissed her again, helpless. Because not kissing her felt like dying.
When I finally tore myself away, I kept my forehead against hers. The frostlight flickered, unsteady, echoing the chaos of my pulse.
“This shouldn’t have happened,” I said.
“Then maybe it was always going to.”
Her voice steadied the air between us. I looked at her—at the reflection of fire in her eyes—and for an instant I almost believed her.
