His thumb brushed faintly along the inside of her wrist, his touch feather-light, reverent. When Jesenia glanced up, she found his gaze fixed on her. Steady, burning. Unguarded in a way she’d never seen before. Her lips parted, but before she could speak, a sharp rustle of movement drew her gaze—a servant passing the archway, pausing just a breath too long, their expression unreadable before hurrying away.
Val-Theris’s hand slipped from hers slowly, his composure sliding back into place like an assassin’s blade sheathed in silence.
Jesenia’s heart ached with confusion and rejection. Just moments before, he claimed he did not want to hide, but closed off the moment someone saw him with her.
His hand lingered close to hers on the stone, so near their shadows almost touched in the fading sun. They both knew what it meant for them to care for each other. The council would grow bolder. The citizens more divided. The knives would sharpen, waiting for the first slip, the first weakness.
Neither of them were strong enough to let go, nor were they brave enough to face it without the other.
And Jesenia did not know the truth of what haunted him. She didn’t know that every time Val-Theris looked at her now, he wasn’t seeing possibility.
Only their tragedy.
Val-Theris left in silence, only pressing their foreheads together once before standing and walking away. When he was gone, the quiet of the courtyard pressed into her like a weight on her chest she was unable to lift.
She continued to sit at the edge of the fountain well into the night, her shawl pulled loosely around her shoulders, staring at the mirrored surface of the water.
“Your voice carries further than you think.”
Jesenia startled slightly, turning to see Rohannes leaning against a carved stone column nearby, his helm tucked beneath one arm, his crimson-plumed crest billowing slightly in the breeze.
“I didn’t hear you approach,” she said softly, gathering her composure.
“You weren’t meant to,” he replied, crossing the courtyard until he stood opposite her, his moonlit shadow falling across the tiles. His armor caught faint glints of gold where the light broke between the trees, but his expression was unreadable.
“You’ve unsettled the council,” Rohannes said simply.
Jesenia smoothed her shawl, her gaze falling to the slow curl of water against stone. “They resent me for speaking,” she said. “And my people will resent me if nothing comes of it. Either way, I lose.”
Rohannes tilted his head slightly, studying her. “And yet you speak anyway.”
Jesenia met his eyes steadily, refusing to shrink beneath the gaze of him. “I cannot be silent while my people starve.”
For a moment, neither of them spoke, the sound of trickling water filling the space between them. Then Rohannes stepped closer, resting his helm lightly on the low stone ledge of the fountain.
“Do you believe he favors your people above Solmiris?” he asked, voice low, even.
Jesenia hesitated, fingers curling faintly into her shawl. “I don’t know what I believe,” she admitted. “I think he wants my people to thrive here, but won’t use his authority to make it so. I think he sees too much, tries to carry too much. No matter what he decides, someone suffers for it. He is consumed by trying to determine whose suffering is easier to swallow than the other.”
Rohannes studied her for a long moment, his dark green eyes narrowing faintly as if weighing his words. When hefinally spoke, his voice was quieter than before, lower, almost conspiratorial.
“You should trust him.”
Jesenia blinked, surprised by the firmness of it. “Trust him?”
“Yes,” Rohannes said softly. “Even when you don’t understand him. Especially then.”
Her brows drew together faintly. “You speak as if you know something I don’t.”
“I know my king,” he replied simply, leaning one hand against the fountain’s edge, his armor whispering faintly as he shifted closer. “I was a soldier of Korvath, you know. I defected and came to him, ashamed of what I had done in his brother’s name. He never held it against me, and I’ve earned my place at his side. I’ve stood by him through many things and watched helplessly as that crown weighed him down. I know this with certainty, Jesenia: every choice he makes costs him something. Sometimes everything.”
She looked at him, quiet, searching his face for something he wasn’t saying.
And then, softly, she asked, “How can I trust him when I don’t know his heart?”
Rohannes held her gaze for a long moment, the silence stretching thin between them before he finally spoke, his words careful:
“You should not mistake his silence for indifference. You are not wrong to care for your people, but Val-Theris carries burdens you cannot see.”
