“Consider it done!”
He scoops me up and spins me around, my skirts flaring as laughter escapes us both in perfect harmony.
I feel lighter as we move toward dinner, but before we reach the room with a table set for two, Odrin catches us in the hall. Vale steps aside, both men speaking in hushed tones, though their mannerisms tell much. It almost appears as though Vale is being scolded by the stout commander at his side—until he gives a curt nod and leans forward, saying something that seems to appease Odrin. The two shake hands and pat each other’s backs with the strength of warriors before Vale returns to me. Odrin sends a smile my way. He does not see me as the enemy here.
“Is all well?” I ask quietly as Vale leads me to supper.
“Yes,” his tone light. “I may have shirked a few responsibilities this afternoon,” he admits with a grin. “Nothing pressing. It may just take time for them to realize I have more concerning me than matters of state alone.”
His hand finds the small of my back as he ushers me into the room, pulling out my chair so we can sit across from one another and share the meal.
That night, he takes me to bed. By morning, he lingers. And each that follows. We fall into a rhythm together—when he meets with council, I banter with Ace; when he plots diplomacy, I write in my journal surrounded by nature.
As much as the library calls to me from its depths, the conservatory envelops me. The warm, humid air wraps around me, and I find my greatest peace there.
Days later, he comes to me.
My hands are smudged with charcoal as I sketch the familiar curves of leaves onto parchment. I reach for a linen to wipe my palms, but the look on his face stills me mid-motion.
He sits beside me on the chaise, his thumb brushing an onyx line from my skin as if memorizing it.
“I have to ask something of you,” he says softly—reluctant.
Not of my time.
Not of my company.
Of my courage.
I lift my eyes to his, searching.
Whatever he sees there makes him cup my cheek, his thumb catching another streak of charcoal I hadn’t noticed.
“It would mean stepping into the light,” he adds quietly. “Where everyone can see you.”
My breath catches.
What he asks of me is not unexpected—yet it still unsettles something deep in my chest.
I don’t answer right away. I can’t.
The weight of his request follows me long after he’s gone, threading through my thoughts until it’s all I can hear.
He once asked me to stay—and I did.
How could I deny him now?
I turn the question over and over, but the truth was always there beneath it: I would walk through fire if it meant I stayed at his side.
Before either of us ever spoke the words aloud, I already knew: I belong with him. Whatever awaits us… I will not turn away.
Chapter Twenty-One
Soria tightens the corset around me, and I relish the tug close to my chest. Whatever he asks of me, whatever it requires, I will not falter. Not even this.
The fortitude in my spine comes not from the tightly bound bodice but from within. The breath I draw is not labored—it’s resolute. Tonight I face the battlefield, but I do it with the strength and peace I have come to know in these days of quiet and nights of passion.
My reflection in the mirror feels true. The woman who once stood dim and uncertain now rises, clad in satin and lace, ready to face what awaits—head held high.
