“But you didn’t,” he added, softer. “You woke up.”
She exhaled sharply, dropping her blade. “You don’t fight fair.”
“No,” he said, letting his own sword fall to the deck with a clatter, “I don’t.”
Their eyes locked.
Everything else — ship, sea, time itself, fell away.
Just the two of them.
On the deck of a ship bound toward certain war, and uncertain futures.
His hand lifted to her jaw, pausing just shy of contact.
“Say no,” he rasped, “and I’ll go.”
She didn’t.
But the storm in her eyes — lust, guilt, longing, spoke louder than any word.
His fingers, calloused and steady, carassed the curve of her jaw, brushing just under her ear, the pad of his thumb skimming the line of her cheekbone. Her breath caught, he felt it. Saw it in the subtle hitch of her chest, the faint parting of her lips.
They were a nightbound king and gods blessed queen, blade and flame, locked in something far more dangerous than any sparring match.
“You can’t fight for shit distracted,” he said, voice lower now, rougher. His gaze flicked to her mouth. “But lucky for you, I’m not trying to win.”
She swallowed hard. “You always fight to win.”
“Not against you.” His thumb ghosted downward, tracing the softest line along her throat.
The ship rocked slightly beneath them, the sound of crew and sea nothing but haze beyond the heat simmering between their bodies. Serenya had long since stepped away, wise enough to let the moment unfold. Maris didn’t move away. Her pulse fluttered beneath his touch.
“This is dangerous,” she whispered.
He smiled, slow, knowing, reverent. "It doesn't have to be."
Her hands came up. One rested lightly against his chest, the other curling ever so slightly into the fabric of his shirt. She wasn’t pulling him closer. But she wasn’t pushing him away.
“I’m not asking for forever,” Alarik said, his voice like thunder muffled by velvet. “Just this moment. Just honesty.”
Maris met his eyes, hers burning with a dozen unspoken things —longing, conflict, need.
And then, softer than a breath: “I don’t know if I can give you more than that.”
He leaned in, his forehead brushing hers. “Then don’t. Just give me this.”
Their mouths were a whisper apart, tension strung tighter than bowstring, the choice hanging in the air between them.
Chapter fifty-two
Shadows Know
-Kael-
The road to Nerium was paved in blood. Calanthe’s soldiers, had been mere specs flickering along the edge of his senses. Their swords were no match for him. He’d slipped through the cracks of their patrols.
It was the other things that hunted him now, that drained his energy. Things with no names. No hearts. Born not of womb or blade, but of the spaces where the Veil had thinned to nothing. Monsters loosed by the gods to punish, to warn, to consume.
