And excruciating.
The private dining room off the east wing was more intimate than the great hall — only a long night shaded table, flickering candles, and silver trays that steamed with food she barely registered. Kael sat at the head of the table, robes exchanged for a black tunic laced half-open at the throat, shadows clinging to his every movement like loyal pets. Maris sat to his right, as dictated by his silent, expectant gaze. The seat once used for noble allies, for warriors, the only ones he allowed closest to his rule. Now hers.
But she couldn’t stop picturing his naked form. The slick sheen of water on his chest. The steam curled around his throat. The way he hadn’t said a word while she stood frozen in the doorway. And now — he carved into venison with elegant hands like he hadn’t just lit her blood on fire.
She could barely keep the goblet steady in her hand. The wine was darker than blood. Spiced, heady. Her lips still tingled from the sip.
“You’re quiet tonight,” Kael said at last, voice low, rich, and maddeningly amused.
Maris kept her eyes on her plate, she refused to meet his gaze. “I didn’t expect to see you bathe —or to be moved into your apartments without discussion.”
“I didn’t expect you to linger… but I can't say I minded the attention.” His voice dipped lower.
"Tell me, little star — What did you come in search of?"
She looked up sharply. “You mistake curiosity for desire. Not everything that stares wishes to touch.”
His eyes glittered. “No?”
Bastard.
The heat hit her throat first — a flush that crept up her neck like wildfire. Maris pushed back her chair hard enough it scraped the stone like a blade drawn from its sheath.
“I believe I've lost my appetite. Excuse me.” She bit out.
She turned on her heel, skirts catching like smoke, and strode from the room, back straight, eyes ahead, fury snapping off her like sparks.
-Kael-
She fled the table like a flame starved of air. Kael waited. Counted to ten. Twenty. Thirty.Then he followed.
The corridor bent to him, shadows curling at his heels, candles flickering low in his wake. He found her in the main sitting room of the apartments pacing, arms crossed tight over her chest, face turned toward the tall windows as if night. Her shoulders were taut. Her breath came fast. Her fury awakening her magic — it gripped the room like a snare.
He stepped inside closing the door behind him with a click that echoed too loudly.
“Why are you running?” he asked softly behind her.
Maris stiffened, she did not turn when she spoke. “I'm attempting an unsuccessful escape.”
He moved closer, slow as tide-swallowed death. “From me?”
She didn’t answer.
“You didn’t look away,” he said quietly, voice brushing the back of her neck like a whisper.
“I should’ve,” she breathed burned by embarrassment.
“Should’ve,” he echoed, stepping until they were nearly touching, his shadows licking her skin. “But you didn’t.”
She slowly faced him — when her eyes met his, the last thread of his control unraveled. She was breathtaking like this — wrecked and wild-eyed.
There was no warning or hesitation. Just the sharp inhale of her breath — then her fingrs fisting in the front of his tunic, pulling him forward with a force that dared him to resist. Her lips crashed into his, hot and furious, a kiss made of everything they hadn't spoken.
It was desperate.
Kael groaned low in his throat, arms locking in place around her, his hands fisted her hair. He kissed her back with the weight of every sleepless night, every cruel silence, every time he'd stopped himself before this.
There was no stopping now.
