“I know. Which is why I am telling you now. So you can consider it. Think about what you truly want.” He moved closer. “I will not pressure you, little mate. But I will not hide the truth from you either.”
We finished cooking in charged silence. The pasta was ready. The sauce was perfect. We sat down at my tiny kitchen table, knees bumping, the space between us electric.
“Tell me about your family,” I said, trying to focus on food instead of the way his eyes kept tracking to my mouth. “Do you have siblings? Parents?”
His expression softened. “My brother Aurion is King of Noctherion, our neighboring kingdom. He is older than me by only two years but acts as if he is ancient. When he is drunk, he is insufferable.”
I smiled. “You miss him.”
“I do. We are close. Closer than most brothers in royal families. We supported each other through our father’s death, through our separate trials for our thrones.” He took a bite of pasta. “This is excellent, by the way.”
“Thanks. What about your mother?”
“Sorcha is... formidable. Kind but fierce. She raised two sons to be kings and never let us forget that with power comes responsibility.” He smiled. “She would like you.”
“How do you know?”
“Because you are strong. Stubborn. Refuse to bow to anyone, even a king.” His eyes glinted. “She values those qualities.”
“I’m not that stubborn.”
“You rejected the mate bond for two weeks despite feeling its pull every moment.”
“Okay, maybe I’m a little stubborn.”
“It is one of many things I adore about you.”
The word ‘adore’ hung in the air between us, significant.
“Tell me about the challenge,” I said, needing to shift the conversation. “The one you were in the middle of when the portal opened.”
His expression darkened. “Andreas Silver. A noble with delusions of grandeur who believes I have no right to rule Ravenor because I was not born there.”
“But you… Won the throne? Legally?”
“I did. I challenged Gallahan Emwood, my godfather, and killed him in fair combat.” Pain flashed across his face. “He was my father’s best friend. A man I trusted my entire life. Discovering his corruption, his cruelty, his willingness to sacrifice innocent lives for power... it broke something in me.”
I reached across the table and took his hand. “I’m sorry.”
“Do not be. He deserved what he got. But Andreas uses my origin as a weapon. Claims that killing my godfather was a betrayal. That a true king would never turn on family.” He squeezed my hand. “He is wrong. A true king protects his people, even from those he loves.”
“You did the right thing.”
“I know. But it cost me. Cost me someone I cared for deeply. Cost me my innocence about the people I trusted.”
I understood that. Understood the weight of betrayal. The way it changed you.
We finished dinner talking about lighter things. His world. My world. The differences and similarities. He was fascinated bytechnology. I was fascinated by magic. We compared notes on politics, on power, on what it meant to lead.
By the time we were done, the tension had shifted. Less charged. More comfortable. But still there. Always there.
“I should clean up,” I said, standing.
He stood with me and helped gather plates. We worked in tandem, moving around each other in the small kitchen with surprising ease.
When the last dish was put away, I turned to find him watching me with that intense gaze again.
“Thank you,” he said. “For this evening. For wanting to know me.”
