After Val-Theris finishedhis work with the council, he found Jesenia’s chambers without thought, his boots soundless on polished marble. He did not knock, he simply entered her room and closed the door softly behind him.
She sat by the window, her knees drawn up, her bare feet tucked beneath her skirts, the late sun spilling sharp across her bruised cheek.
When Val-Theris stepped inside, she didn’t turn.
“You shouldn’t be here,” Jesenia said quietly, her voice steady but hollow.
He froze, his jaw tightening faintly. “I needed to see you. To apologize for what I said earlier.”
Her laugh was soft, bitter, and without warmth. “This is much bigger than you or I. You know this.”
“Yes I do,” he agreed, chest constricting. He forced himself forward, closer to her. “But what I’ve come for is about…us. Not politics.”
“Is it?” Jesenia finally turned to face him, her dark eyes flashing beneath the bruises and ash. “The entire city whispers about me.The foreign girl. The king’s whore.You put me there, Val-Theris—you made me this. All of this is because I asked for a warm meal.”
Her voice broke faintly, the words trembling in the stillness.
“I will not hear that from you.”
Jesenia lowered her gaze, fingers curling into the edge of her shawl. “Since the day we met, everything has been worse,” she whispered. “Your people hate mine. The council schemes behind your back to overthrow everything you’ve built. And my people—” Her voice caught faintly, thin with exhaustion. “They now look at me as though I’ve traded their safety for my seat at your table. And today,” Jesenia whispered, trembling despite herself, “it was just a reminder that nothing I do can change that.”
The sound of her voice breaking where she rarely allowed it to sliced deeper than any blade. He crossed the remaining distance between them slowly, cautiously, until the sun caught the faint tremor in his feathers.
“I swore I would help you and your people,” he whispered, his voice barely audible, “and every time I fail, they find new ways to make you bleed for it.”
“Then stop,” Jesenia snapped, her voice louder now, the emotion breaking through exhaustion. “Stop choosing me, Val-Theris! Stop giving them reasons to punish my people for my existence!”
Her words echoed between them, the silence afterward heavy and sharp. But Val-Theris didn’t flinch. Instead, his voice came quiet, steady, and full of something deeper than command.
“I can’t.”
Jesenia shook her head sharply, frustrated tears stinging the edges of her vision. “Why?” she demanded, her voice shaking now as she stood to face him fully. “Why can’t you just let me go back to being a foreign girl in the shadows?”
“Because I don’t have time to.”
The words stilled her. Val-Theris exhaled slowly, his wings trembling faintly before folding tighter against his back, his gaze locked unblinking on hers. His jaw tightened faintly, his breath uneven as his hand lifted, stopping just shy of her bruised cheek—hovering there, close enough to feel the warmth of her skin.
“I’ve seen my death.”
Jesenia blinked, the silence ringing sharp between them. “What?”
“The day I kissed you,” Val-Theris murmured, his voice distant, reverent and haunted all at once. “I saw it—the blade that ends me. And you were there, grieving for me. That’s why I can’t let you go,” Val-Theris said, his voice raw now, threaded through with something soft and devastating. “I will die, Jesenia. Soon. And until that day comes, I am going to choose you over my council.”
Tears blurred her vision before she realized they were falling. She wanted to scream at him, to tell him she hated him fortethering her to his death, to his fate—and yet beneath the anger, fear churned deeper than anything she could voice.
She pressed a hand over her mouth, steadying her breath as she stepped back from him, shaking her head. “You should have told me,” she whispered, her voice breaking on the edges of the words. “You should have let me decide if I wanted this knowing what comes.”
Val-Theris closed the distance between them slowly, his hand finally brushing along her cheek, his thumb warm and reverent where it caught the edge of her tears.
“Would you choose any differently?” he asked softly.
“No,” she admitted.
For a moment, silence stretched, the weight of everything unsaid pressing sharp between them. Val-Theris’s forehead lowered, almost brushing hers, his breath unsteady, his wings half-spread behind him as if instinct sought to shelter her even now.
Jesenia’s throat tightened, her breath uneven as she finally met his gaze. For a long moment, she said nothing. And then, very softly, she asked:
“What would it take to stop this hatred between my people and yours? Is there really nothing you can do, Val-Theris? As king?”
