A beat of silence followed by a velvet laugh.
“No, my friend. You fixed my sash already. Please, rest now. You have been running about all morning fussing over me.”
As Kailorien approached, he sensed a familiar magic in the air. A mana that could only belong to one person. To his Auryn. But not from casting. From Weaving. His brows drew together.
He rounded the curve, stepped past the archway. Then…
He stopped.
All thoughts in his mind came to a sudden, grinding, halt.
Auryn stood before the far divan, back partially turned, long gossamer veil shimmering like falling snow. A crown of light arched from her brow—sharp, delicate, divine. Gauze spilled like moonwater down her back, trailing behind her like mist behind a gliding cloud.
The gown she wore was not of this world. Not just in beauty, but in the way it clung to her body with impossible precision, stitched along the seams of her very form. It accented her slim waist then spread outward along the curve of her hips. The skirts flowed in ripples down to the floor, the fabric folding back and forth in elegant waves of silk and lace.
His mouth parted. He couldn’t breathe.
Not because she was beautiful—though Void help him, she was ethereal—but because he’dforgotten.
Forgotten she was more than someone he needed to protect. More than his heart.
She wassovereign.
She was his world.
And he was unworthy of the sight of her.
She turned. Their eyes met, all of the crystals and jewels of her dress reflecting in her silver eyes in cosmic union.
His Sokâr.
His Bonded.
One half of him.
He took a breath, surfacing from the depths of awe and reverie.
"Auryn..."
Her cheeks flushed, her eyes growing wide. She hadn’t expected him. But Lu’ma—he had never seen an Attendant look so pleased and smug.
Kailorien approached the living vision before him with caution, reverence, as though any sudden movement might scatter her into mist. And when he was close enough to touch her, he did not, afraid to break this moment. Afraid he’d blink and find her gone.
Still breathless, he raised a hand—gloved fingers brushing the edge of her veil.
“You—” he began, but stopped. Swallowed. Started again, softer. “You look like the first rays of starlight falling on the world.”
She lowered her gaze, her flush deepening.
He stepped closer.
“I have seen all the corners of Daesmoria, all those things that others have called wonders. Yet never have I truly seen one until this very moment.”
And then—he knelt.
Not as the Resh’Agar.
But asKailorien.
