Alina was silent, shocked. She had never imagined him as anything but unbreakable.
He was still holding her gaze, gold eyes darkened by the flicker of candle. “I still have nightmares about that night. About what it means to be responsible for lives you can’t save.” He reached, slowly, and put his hand over hers, clenched in her lap. His palm was rough and callused, but still gentle. His long fingers stroked her hand, much as he had done on the evening of the Festival of Lights. “You’re not alone in this, Alina. You’re just awake enough to know what’s at stake.”
The touch was an anchor. She unclenched her fist and turned her hand so their fingers interlocked. The sensation was more real than anything else in the room.
He squeezed, then leaned in, the barest fraction. “Do you regret your decision? Of fighting with us? With me?”
Alina’s breath caught. The thought of her old life…a few weeks ago, she would have said yes, in a heartbeat. But now she thought of the festival, of the children in the village square, the candles she’d set in the wall, the taste of spiced wine and the warmth of Kael’s hand. “No,” she said, with a certainty that startled even her.
Kael nodded, once. “Good.”
They sat, the silence softer now, but charged with a hyper-awareness of each other’s bodies. Their thighs touched and this time, Alina was quite sure it wasn’t by accident. She studiedtheir joined hands and the way his thumb traced gentle arcs over her skin. A surge of heat flooded her, equal parts comfort and something entirely different.
She looked up, and again found him watching her—not as a commander, but as a man on the edge of longing for something he’d forbidden himself from wanting for too long. His eyes were dark, like molten gold.
He did not move. “Do you always have to be so careful?” she asked, the words a dare and a plea at the same time.
He smiled that crooked smile that was seemingly reserved for her alone. “Only with you.”
The distance between them was nothing. Kael reached up to brush a stray lock of hair from her cheek, tucking it behind her ear with an intimacy that made her shiver. His hand lingered, cupping her jaw. Excitement shot through her, a pull toward him she was unable to resist. She tilted her face into his palm, savoring the feel of his touch on her skin. Her eyes fluttered shut, overcome by the tenderness Kael showed her.
He bent, slow enough for her to pull away if she wanted.
She didn’t.
All she wanted was to feel him, and more of it.
His lips touched hers, once, feather light. Then again, firmer, the taste of him sweet and electric. She melted into it, hands coming up to his shoulders, then neck, pulling him closer. Desire bloomed in her belly.
The kiss deepened and his hands slid to her waist, hers threading into his hair. He inhaled deeply and tugged her onto his lap, lifting her as if she weighed nothing. Alina forgot the world—forgot herself even, lost in the impossible fact of their bodies pressed together on the narrow bed, the candle flickeringa foot away. The universe, as wide and vast as it was, shrank down to the space between her lips and his.
She wanted more. She parted her lips wider, inviting him, and he answered with a hunger that surprised them both. He growled deep in his throat as his hand slid beneath the rough hem of her shirt, palm splaying over the bare small of her back. His touch was hot enough to burn away any lingering doubt. The ball of heat in her belly dropped much, much lower. She straddled his thighs, feeling the strong muscles beneath her, her own body pulsing with need. It propelled her forward, relentlessly, to feel more of him, taste more of him, have him closer.
His hand roamed her back, up and down, leaving a trail of sparks behind. He tucked her closer, pressing her to him. She could feel the evidence of just how much he wanted her through the layers of their clothing.
He broke the kiss, breathing heavily, forehead pressed to hers. “Alina,” he said, opening his mouth to say more.
A mighty crash and loud rumble came from the corridor, followed by shouts and the sound of falling stones and debris.
He was up instantly, hand to his dagger, all trace of gentleness replaced by the sharp, cold focus of command. He paused only to look at her, eyes wide with apology and promise.
“Stay here,” he said and was gone before Alina could even blink, the warmth of him ripped away from her. The candle’s glow felt suddenly cruel in the empty room.
Alina sat there, her chest heaving, skin thrumming. She was still engulfed by the smell of him, her heart more exposed than it had ever been. She had no idea where all of this would lead to, but she knew one thing: she would follow him anywhere. Even into the dark.
12
Oh
Alina snatched the shawl from the floor and sprinted into the corridor. It looked like hell had risen up. The torchlight was nothing like the soft candlelight in her room; here, the flame was a living thing, throwing shadows against the sweating stone, making the air pulse with warning. Dust and acrid smoke filled the air, stinging her nose and clogging her lungs. Shouts ricocheted off the tunnel walls, overlapping until it was impossible to tell one voice from another.
Alina squinted through the haze of gray, glassy powder that drifted in eddies from the ceiling. Somewhere ahead, a support beam had given way, half-blocking the passage with an angry tangle of wood and stone. The corridor was filled with debris and dust, each step crunching over the stones and pebbles covering the floor. Figures moved in the gloom—two, maybe three, silhouetted by the trembling orange glow.
Kael was already there, a black cutout against chaos, barking orders in a voice that left no room for argument. He coughed andsputtered, but was otherwise unharmed. He was crouched next to a rebel—barely more than a boy—who sat propped against the wall, cradling a limp arm. His face was streaked with blood, his eyes were wild. Another rebel knelt beside him, older, her sleeve torn, her expression a mixture of terror and relief as she realized she had just dodged death.
Alina skidded to a halt beside them, coughing from the dust clawing at her throat. The older woman snapped her head up and shot Alina a look that could have peeled paint from the walls. Alina backed away and said nothing. The boy barely registered her; his world had shrunk to the pain in his arm and the frantic, shallow breathing that was keeping him upright.
Kael glanced at Alina, nodded once, and returned to his assessment. “You’re lucky to be alive,” he said, peeling back the boy’s sleeve with gentle, practiced hands. “If you’re even luckier, it’s not broken. You’ll have a hell of a bruise, though.”
