Rohannes hesitated. Val-Theris’s gave him a sharp look. “Speak.”
“The council will use this,” he said. “They will say this is the result of your attention diverted. They will say the refugees weakened our control. They will use Sunspire as proof that you have grown soft.”
Val-Theris’s eyes lifted slowly. “Do you truly believe that is any of my concern right now?” His gaze was dangerous in the morning light. “You have your orders. Make haste. I will inform the council that we are marching to Sunspire to purge the enemy from our lands. Korvath cannot be allowed to burn my cities and remain unpunished.”
Then Val-Theris’s eyes flicked toward the small side door—one that led down a corridor toward the guest rooms.
Toward Jesenia.
Rohannes followed the shift in his attention and understood immediately what would come next. “You should not go to her,” he said gently.
Val-Theris’s gaze snapped back to him. “Why?”
“Because she will ask you not to go,” Rohannes replied quietly. “And you will want to obey her.”
The king’s jaw tightened. “She deserves to know,” he said.
Rohannes nodded. “Yes. But you must be prepared to leave anyway.”
“I am,” he said.
He moved quickly then, crossing the room with a controlled urgency. His wings unfurled slightly as he walked, as if his body was already preparing for the air outside the city walls.
Jesenia’s room smelled faintly of herbs and old books. The curtains were drawn back enough to let in pale morning light, which fell in soft bands across the floor.
Jesenia sat at the small table near the window, a blanket around her shoulders. A cup of tea sat untouched beside her, and in her hands was a dress she had been mending—thread caught between her fingers.
She looked up the moment he entered. Her expression shifted instantly, as if she’d learned to read him the way one reads weather.
“What happened?” she asked, voice already expecting hurt. She set the cloth down slowly, hands trembling faintly. “Val-Theris,” she whispered. “Tell me.”
“Korvath has crossed the border,” he said. “They sacked Sunspire.”
Jesenia went still. Her lips parted, but no sound came at first. Her breath hitched. “And you have to go,” she whispered.
Val-Theris did not pretend otherwise.
“Yes,” he said.
Silence. Her eyes filled with tears, fast and unwilling. But she offered him a sad smile. “I know.” Jesenia shook her head, tears slipping down her cheeks before she could stop them.
Val-Theris’s expression shifted, pain flickering across it. Her throat worked. She wiped at her cheeks roughly, angry at herself for weeping like this, angry that tears did nothing to stop armies.
“I do not want you to go,” she said, voice cracking. “How do you know it will stop at Sunspire? What if it’s a trap? What if this is Val-Oros trying to change you?”
Val-Theris’s eyes held hers. “Because I have you. Because you remind me there are other ways to be strong. Because when I return, I want to be the man you can recognize.”
Jesenia shook her head again, tears falling freely now.
“That’s not fair,” she whispered. “You shouldn’t make your goodness my responsibility.”
“You are not responsible for my goodness,” he said gently. “You are the proof that goodness still exists in this world, despite it trying so hard to steal it from you.”
Her eyes squeezed shut. A quiet sob broke from her chest, and when Val-Theris finally touched her, his hands settled lightly on her waist, steadying her as if she might fall apart. Jesenia’s hands rose and gripped the front of his tunic, clutching him like a lifeline.
“I hate this,” she whispered into him. She pulled back just enough to look up at Val-Theris, her lashes wet, her expression raw. “Promise me,” she said, voice shaking. “Promise me you won’t throw yourself into death just because you think it’s inevitable. Promise me you’ll fight to come back to me.”
“I promise,” he said.
