My disguise. The mission. Arthur. All of it blurred under the heat of his touch.
Then, as suddenly as it started, he tore away from me with a violence that left me gasping. His hands dropped from my body as if I’d burned him, and he stumbled backward several steps, putting distance between us as if I were some kind of contagion he needed to escape.
He stood there in the dappled light filtering through the oak leaves, his chest rising and falling in harsh, uneven breaths. The elegant composure that usually defined him had completely shattered, leaving behind a man who looked as though he’d been struck by lightning. His dark hair was disheveled from myfingers, and his lips were swollen from my own, but it was his eyes that made my heart clench.
"You've bewitched me," he said, shaking his head as he ran his hand through his hair and looked away from me. "I don't know what the bloody fuck it is about you, but I…" His voice faltered as he stood there panting.
"I—" I started, but I didn't know what more to say.
"You don't even feel like a fucking man!" he nearly yelled at me. "Your face—your skin is so soft—no hint of hair, no hint of a beard."
Those eyes churned with a tempest of emotions I could barely begin to decipher. Confusion warred with desire, self-loathing battled against need, and beneath it all lurked something that looked dangerously close to panic. He stared at me as if I were a puzzle he couldn't solve, a riddle that threatened to unravel everything he thought he knew about himself.
His hands hung at his sides, fingers still trembling slightly from the aftershock of whatever had just passed between us. The silence stretched, broken only by the sound of our labored breathing and the distant rustle of leaves in the breeze.
“This can’t happen,” he muttered, wiping his mouth as if it burned. “I’m not—I’ve never—” He turned from me, fists clenched. “I’ve never wanted a man before.”
His hand ran through his hair in agitation, sending dark strands flying in every direction. He spun back, voice tight, as if he couldn't accept his own explanation for what had happened.
"And yet there's something about you, Lioran. Something so damnably feminine it’s driving me mad." He took a breath. "I know it’s impossible, and yet… yet my body identifies yours as a woman—your diminutive size, the smallness of your proportions, the softness of your skin—even kissing you just now—there is nothing masculine about you—not a fucking thing."
The words hit me like ice water. I felt stripped bare underneath his gaze.
“Lance,” I began, but my voice cracked.
He began pacing, articulating his confusion aloud. "The way you move, the sound of your laugh just now... Even the feel of your lips. Youfeellike a woman, Lioran!" He nearly shouted as he shook his head. "But you are not a woman."
“No…” I said quietly, my heart pounding for a different reason now.
“None of this makes any fucking sense.”
“Please—” I started, but he cut me off.
“You don’t understand.” His eyes searched mine as if they could force an answer. “I’ve trusted men with my life. Fought beside them. And now I’m—” He broke off, jaw clenched. “I’m feeling things I shouldn’t.”
I wanted to reach for him. To undo the space between us. But I stayed frozen.
“I never meant for this to happen,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.
Lance turned away, fists tight at his sides. When he spoke again, he wouldn't look at me. “I can’t make sense of this. But every time I look at you… it’s as though something inside mewantsmore.”
The forest around us seemed unnaturally still, as if the trees themselves were holding their breath. I stood up and stepped forward, meaning to soothe or comfort him, but he raised a hand to stop me.
“No.” His voice was hard now. Final. "Whatever this is, it ends now. We complete the trial and speak no more of it." He paused. "This… what just passed between us… it can never leave this forest, and it can never happen again. This truth dies right here—with only the two of us as witnesses."
I nodded. "I understand."
He nodded once, then bent to gather the orbs, which I had completely forgotten about. I didn't know how it was possible, but the remaining two glass orbs had not shattered, thank the gods. As for the Invisible Stalker, I didn't know what we were going to do about it. But I was also too nervous to ask Lance.
“Nothing can happen between us ever again,” he repeated, almost to himself. “Nothing.”
I didn’t move. Couldn’t. My lips still burned from his kiss while my chest ached with everything I couldn’t say. But I had to say something. "What… what about the Invisible Stalker?"
He paused but didn't face me. "I will explain to Arthur and Mordred that it was captured but was released when you fell. They will take my word, and they will not count it against you."
I swallowed hard. "Then it will just roam this forest?"
"Yes." His voice carried the weight of finality, his tone brooking no more questions, no further conversation, no acknowledgment of what had just transpired in the shadowed depths of this cursed forest.
