Said sex was part of the binding ceremony.
But for all I know, that’s the last time he’ll ever touch me.
Maybe that was just the ritual. Duty.
And what a shame that would be.
“You are seeing only the Broken Plains,” he says after a pause, his eyes flicking toward the window, then back to me. “There are vastly different kingdoms in the realm. Nightfall is layered.”
“So I’ve been told,” I say, trying to sound casual.
Trying not to get caught staring at the way his massive arms rest on his thighs, hands relaxed but still coiled with power.
Trying not to think about the heat of his mouth on mine, the weight of his body above me, the way he trembled when he came inside me.
Trying not to wonder if it meant anything to him.
Because it did to me.
And that’s dangerous.
That’s the kind of thinking that cracks things open.
That lets hope in through the seams, even when you’ve spent your whole life welding them shut.
I can still feel his mouth on my skin.
The heat of his touch.
The way he said my name like it mattered.
He turns toward me then—fully.
His body is still, but no longer distant.
And when his gaze locks with mine, it’s no longer remote or impassive.
It’s present. Fierce. Focused like flame drawn to oxygen.
“And what else has Masha told you?” he asks, low and slow.
There’s no mockery in it. No challenge.
Just… curiosity with teeth.
I take a breath, steadying myself, pretending the sheer force of his attention isn’t scrambling my pulse.
“She said matebonds don’t always mean the same thing here,” I begin. “That they’re sacred, but not always simple. That you don’t trust easily.”
His eyes narrow, unreadable.
“That this war has cost you more than you admit,” I continue softly, “and that even if it’s not popular opinion, there are those among your people who would follow you into the fire.”
His jaw ticks once.
A subtle tell.
But he says nothing.
