“And if I feel something.. you will too?”
His voice dipped lower. “Yes.”
A silence passed. Heavy. Knowing.
And when her hand brushed his both their magics surged together like a living thing.
-Maris-
For a heartbeat, she let herself have it — the kiss, the weightless spin, the deafening cheer of a court that had not long before looked at her with suspicion and now roared in approval.
Kael was beaming. That cold, sharp-edged king had melted beneath her fingers, joy blazing across his face like dawn breaking through the dark clouds of a storm. His arms around her felt like a promise. His kiss had tasted like relief. And gods help her… she wanted this.
She wantedhim.Desperately.
She could see it all before her now — hallways they'd walk together, nights spent tangled in sheets and secrets, decisions made not alone but side by side. She'd never dreamed of royalty. Never longed for a crown. But the future with him wasn't about thrones or titles. It was about belonging. Safety. Love that had been craved, not gifted.
Still, even as she smiled up at him —flushed with need and anticipation of their new bond— something inside her flickered.
A shadow of a question that hadn't yet been answered.
He hadn't mentioned the journal. Hadn't said a word about the dreams she'd written about — the ones another male's voice and form had haunted her.
Kael had read it. She was sure. The pages had been left out, carelessly. And Kael was not the kind of man who didn't read what was placed before him. He had disappeared after her sparring and returned covered in blood.
And yet he had not brought it up, not offered her an explanation of what had happened?
The joy in her chest did not dim— but it flickered slightly.
She didn't let it show.
She smiled and kissed him once more. And when he held her close, she rested her head against his chest, letting the moment wrap around them like silk.
But her thoughts were already stirring.
He'd given her forever.
But she still wasn't sure if he'd given her the truth.
The feast waned slowly, golden lights flickering lower and lower like dying stars in chandeliers overhead. Nobles retired one by one, their drunken laughter echoing down the long halls —bloodwine sloshing in crystal and lace-gloved hands.
But Kael stayed.
And so did Maris.
He’d barely stopped touching her. A hand at her lower back. Fingers brushing her wrist. His knee aligned beside hers like a compass needle drawn to the only direction that mattered.
By the time they rose from the high table, her skin was buzzing.
But before the court could fully drift out, the orchestra struck up one final melody — not the soft departure notes of an ending night, but something darker. A slow-burn waltz layered in tension and seduction.
Kael stood and offered his hand.
His silver eyes pinned her in place. And even after everything — the proposal, the bond, the whispers — it still made her breath catch.
“Dance with me,” he said, not as a question, but a command only she could make sweet.
Maris swallowed her nerves and placed her hand in his.
