Her hands rested over his heart, feeling its frantic rhythm. “Then savor this moment with me.”
“I can give you more than that,” he said. “Wait for me in my chambers. When I return, I will take you to our sanctuary where the stars are nearest. And there, Jesenia…” His voice deepened, promise threading through every syllable. “There I will love you until the heavens tire of watching.”
He kissed her fingertips, one by one, then stepped back, his wings drawing close.
The door closed behind him with the hush of feathers, leaving the scent of rain and a heartbeat of silence. Jesenia pressed her hand to her lips, smiling through tears, and looked up toward the domed ceiling where the stars glimmered faintly through the glass—already waiting for them.
TWENTY-THREE
The libraryof Solmiris stretched in endless golden arches, the air thick with the scent of parchment and ink. The halls were silent at this late hour, save for the soft crackle of torches and the rustle of pages.
Val-Theris sat hunched over a long oak table, scrolls unrolled around him in neat, disciplined stacks. His fingers traced looping Lunarethian script, his lips moving soundlessly as he tried again to shape words not native to his tongue.
He had been this studious since he returned from the border and though the syllables were still clumsy, he pressed on, learning both the language and all he could of their courting rituals.
Here he learned that in Lunareth, lovers did not kneel before one another but stood side by side, facing the moon. That a man did not ask for a woman’s hand with a ring like in Seraveth—he offered her a promise cloth, woven with his own hands, to show he would work for her comfort. This cloth was also part of a birthing ceremony, to be the first linen that touches the skin of a newborn as a blessing; for love would be the first thing they came in contact with. Marriage vows were not spoken to priests in Lunareth, but whispered under open sky where the starsthemselves could hear. It was meant to be a private, intimate affair. It was a stark contrast to the lavish, public ceremonies they had adopted in his kingdom.
Val-Theris read every word, again and again, until the letters blurred. His fingers were smudged with ink from where he had traced their prayers, his hair falling into his eyes as he leaned closer to commit each fragment to memory.
Rohannes found him there once, long after midnight, his cloak draped over his shoulders, brows furrowed at the sight of his king muttering foreign words to himself.
“Your Majesty,” he said gently, “Seraveth has traditions of its own. Would they not serve?”
Val-Theris did not look up, his voice soft but certain.
“Jesenia is not Seraveth,” he murmured. “She should not be forced into my people’s rites, certainly not after the way her and her people have been treated by mine. I have asked her once already, and she did not see it as an act of devotion. I shall not make that mistake again. When I ask her for eternity, it will be in her language, by her traditions, so there is no doubt it isherI love, not the idea of her.”
He closed his eyes, whispering the vow once more under his breath, stumbling over the Lunarethian consonants but refusing to stop until the words came smoother.
And in that vast library, the Angel-King of Seraveth spent weeks devoting himself to learning how to love Jesenia properly.
As time went on, he became more comfortable with the words falling from his tongue, but with no one to practice speaking with, it kept him trapped in his studies for longer than he intended.
And of course, Jesenia began to notice.
The library was hushed as always, nothing but the sound of wind from the open terrace fluttering through loose pages lining the shelves. Val-Theris stood deep in the aisles, a scroll ofLunareth Moon Prayer clutched in his hand, quietly whispering the words and simultaneously translating in his head.
At the end, he began fumbling the syllables, his voice growing louder at his own frustration.
He heard a soft laugh behind him, and turned to find Jesenia hiding in the shadows, her face laced with amusement. Her shawl was loose on her shoulders, and her hair fell down her back in soft waves. Her eyes glinted with mischief.
“You just said ‘my life is your goat’,” she teased.
For the first time in his memory, Val-Theris felt the rise of embarrassment in his cheeks. “I…” His pale hair fell into his eyes as he fumbled to roll the parchment and put it away on a shelf. “It was not my intention.”
Jesenia laughed softly and crossed the space between them, the light of a lantern above their heads warming her face. She placed her hands on his chest. “Perhaps not, but it was very charming.”
“Charming?” he huffed, still embarrassed. He looked down at her, wings shifting awkwardly at his back, bumping against the rows of books. He thought it was a curse, the way his usual poise always crumbled under her gaze, but he did not care. His hands tenderly found her waist and pulled her closer. “Your language resists me after all these weeks of study.”
“You’ve been studying my language? Why?”
“Because it is yours.”
Her smile softened. “Well.” She reached for the scroll once more, unfurling it. “Allow me to help, otherwise I fear you shall fill Solmiris with goats.”
She led them to the table at the center of the library, placing the scroll between them as they sat side-by-side on the bench. Jesenia took Val-Theris’s hand in hers and guided his fingers to trace the text as she repeated the phrases. Her voice was slow and clear, her accent gentle.
He followed along, a dutiful student trusting his tutor. Val-Theris let his free arm wrap around Jesenia, pulling her closer, sharing warmth. As they came to the last verse of the prayer, the air between them thickened into something deeper—charged with their closeness and so many unspoken words.
