LYRAE
The next morning, I found Rooke outside my rooms on the hallway floor—long legs stretched out in front of him, head tipped back against the wall, cloak tangled around him like he’d been there long enough to become part of the stone. Hooded eyes watched me as I closed my door behind me.
Yes, I’d been pissed last night.
Pissed because, much like Rooke…I was really, really bad at this sort of thing.
Feelings and love and interpreting yearning, swoony looks were like some indecipherable, cryptic code, where the meanings could be anything fromI love you foreverto—I want to stab you in the heart.
Give me a bloodthirsty army charging across a battlefield any day. At least I knew what they wanted.
My head on a stake.That, I could work with.
The corridor was quiet this early, empty of anyone but us, so I crossed the hall and slid down the wall beside him, my stomach tightening with worry.
He looked…bad.
Deathly pale beneath the stark lines of his face, shadows bruised into circles under his eyes. In the last two days he’d been bled to death, donned a legendary Crown to resurrectthe magic of his ancestors—which had very nearly killed him, according to what he’d told Anaria—liquefied his enemies, then flown me here to face judgment.
Where the only thing he’d done was secure my future, while trading away his own.
I curled my hands in my lap, because all I wanted to do was smooth that rogue black curl off his cheek, press my fingers to his temples, and let him close his eyes as I rubbed some of those shadows away.
He needed real sleep. Time off from…princing.
I sniffed.A bath.
None of which he’d get, because Zephryn was going to storm down this hallway at any moment to escort him south, where he’d…use the Triune to resurrect a barren realm, which just might kill him.
My blood went cold.
Rooke’s wide shoulders were squared, but he was rattled, like he’d been shaken apart and hadn’t yet settled back into place. When his gaze found mine, his eyes weren’t gilded with gold or dancing with arrogant amusement.
They were flat. Hollow. Empty.
“Have you been out here all night?” I asked, fiddling with the hem of my shirt. My clothing was silky and white and flowing—unlike anything he’d ever seen me in—and my hair was loose, hanging over one shoulder, still damp from last night.
Had I known he was still here, I would have dressed in full armor, right down to my gauntlets…
But I hadn’t expected to see Rooke today.
Or ever.
“Yes,” he said quietly. “You look…different like this. Nice.Softer.”
“I dress different here. When I’m off duty.People here are used to it.” I dropped my gaze to my clasped hands, because I couldn’t stand to see that desolation in his eyes anymore. “Had I known you were still here, I would have made a different wardrobe choice, but I figured you’d already gone back.”
Fuck. That was a really long explanation when he hadn’t even asked for one.
So bad at this sort of stuff.
“What are you still doing here?” I asked softly.
His throat bobbed. “Waiting for you.”
“Well, here I am,” I muttered, sounding far more combative than I’d meant to, but the future felt so…impossible right now. Especially after how incredibly possible life had felt last night, walking through the city streets, holding his hand.
Like we could have ruled the world together.
