As the fire dies to embers in the hearth, he whispers a truth I pray he never takes back, “You are my flame, forevermore.”
I nestle against him, breathless and certain, knowing I would burn for him a thousand times over.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Iwas only just beginning to feel at home, finding a rhythm, when everything changed.
He has sat across from me with heavy words before. Each time, there was a choice: stay or go, risk or retreat. Each time he came with his heart in his hands and asked. Each time, I said yes with every part of me.
But this…
This strikes differently.
We walk the bustling midday corridors side by side, no longer pretending I have no place at his shoulder. I watch the atmosphere around him shift—the subtle weight in his movements, the way silence tugs at the corners of his smile.
I don’t press.
Not yet.
He came for me himself—not a page sent with a message, not a summons scratched onto parchment.
Him.
That alone tells me something has changed.
Moments earlier, Ace and I had been trading cheerful nonsense—the kind of conversation so light it felt like sunlight itself. Then Valeappeared in the doorway, and the world narrowed to him. I cross the room without thinking.
He catches me with a laugh, lifting me off my feet. Joy burst out of me—unrestrained, bright enough to startle even Ace.
“M’lady,” Ace sighs dramatically, hand to his chest, “if that’s the sound you make for him, I must assume you’ve only been humoring my wit.”
Vale lowers me slowly, my feet returning to stone though my heart still floats. His arms remain around me — steady, sure.
“Don’t fret,” I tell Ace with a grin. “I still find you utterly delightful.”
Ace bows as though I’d knighted him, stacking his books in theatrical defeat.
I turn to Vale. “What brings you here?” His presence alone feels like being set alight.
“The day is ours, flame,” he says, warmth threading through his voice. Then, to Ace, “You don’t mind if I steal her away, do you?”
Ace waves us off. “Go set the world ablaze.”
Vale guides me into the hall. I follow, sensing something simmering beneath his lightness. Part of me knows that I would follow him anywhere.
We walk, his eyes staying fixed ahead. The silence between us feels heavier than the words he won’t speak.
Courtiers bow as we pass; I barely notice. I watch only him—the tension in his jaw, the way his steps seem just a fraction too precise. Finally, the pressure grows too sharp to bear.
“I can’t do this anymore.” The words shoot out of me before I can temper them.
He stops mid-stride, blinking as though I’d pulled him from a dream. “What?” he asks, startled.
“This silence.” I draw a breath. “I am grateful to be here with you. But don’t think I can’t tell when something weighs on you.” My hand slides along his arm, trying to anchor us both. “Whatever it is, we will face it together.”
His shoulders sink—not with relief, but with resignation. Heglances down the corridor—empty—and guides me into a narrow passage lit only by a single dusty window.
Worry coils in my chest. “Vale…” I whisper, pleading.
