And as we step back into the afternoon streets, her hand warm in the crook of my elbow, I let myself imagine—just for a moment—what it might feel like if this became normal. If she stayed beside me not because Daryn arranged it but because she chose it.
Chose me.
9
KEIRA
Daryn is already waiting when I bring Amisra in the garden, and she immediately climbs onto the stone bench next to him beneath the flowering vines. Amisra chatters about a thalivern she saw earlier while Daryn listens with that soft expression fathers get when they're trying to memorize every detail of their child.
"Look, Keira!" Amisra bounces, remembering I'm here. I should have walked away, but I haven't. "Papa says we can have honey cakes for tea!"
"Does he now?" I ruffle her silver hair, watching Daryn's fond smile. "That's very generous of him."
"I'm feeling indulgent today." He shifts Amisra more comfortably against his side, but I catch the wince he tries to hide. "Besides, someone told me life's too short not to eat dessert first."
"Someone wise, clearly." I have to fight a grin as I watch them.
"Uncle Val says that!" Amisra announces. "He says rules are for people without imagination."
"Does he?" I can't help smiling at that. Can perfectly imagine Valas declaring such things with complete sincerity while doing something utterly improper. "And where is Uncle Val? I thought he'd be out here with you."
"Haven't seen him in hours." Daryn strokes Amisra's hair absently. "He locked himself in his room this morning with fresh parchment and that look he gets when he thinks he's close to something. Stubborn fool probably hasn't eaten since breakfast."
The worry that flickers through me feels automatic now, natural. Like caring about Valas has become woven into my daily routine without me noticing the exact moment it happened.
"Should someone check on him?" I try to sound casual.
"Would you?" Daryn's smile is too knowing. "I'd go myself, but I'm rather occupied at the moment." He gestures at Amisra, who's now examining an insect crawling across the bench.
"I can go." The words come out faster than intended. "I was thinking of making tea anyway."
"How thoughtful." His eyes gleam with amusement. "Do take your time. Make sure he actually eats something. Maybe sits somewhere other than hunched over a desk."
"Papa, it has spots!" Amisra interrupts before I can respond, which is probably for the best since I have no idea what to say to Daryn's transparent matchmaking.
I escape to the kitchen, filling the kettle and setting it to boil while pulling together a small tray—tea, bread, cheese, those candied nuts Valas likes though he pretends not to. The kind of food someone can eat quickly without thinking about it.
The fact that I know what Valas likes should probably concern me. So should how my pulse quickens at the thought of seeing him, of being alone with him in his room.
But I'm done pretending I don't want this. Whatever this is.
The guest room he's claimed sits at the end of the eastern corridor, door firmly closed. I balance the tray on one hip, knocking lightly. I try not to be nervous or feel ridiculous despite the fact that I'm wearing a dress today.
That I got dressed thinking of him.
But there's no answer.
"Valas?" I try again, louder this time.
Still nothing.
Worry spikes sharp and sudden. I push the door open carefully, stepping into dim space—curtains drawn, single lamp burning low on the desk in the sitting room of his suite.
And there he is.
Slumped over scattered parchment, head pillowed on his forearms, obsidian hair spilling across detailed diagrams and notes written in his precise hand. Asleep. Or passed out from exhaustion—hard to tell which.
My heart does something complicated in my chest. Something tender and aching.
