Arvid #2
Massive windows dominated the far wall, offering a panoramic view of Ashvorn's glittering lights and the dark silhouette of the Caldran volcano beyond.
Bookshelves lined portions of the remaining walls, filled with volumes that looked ancient and well-used.
Maps and reports covered several tables scattered throughout the space.
A sitting area occupied one corner near a fireplace that could have heated her entire apartment back on Earth.
Near the far wall by the windows sat a massive four-poster bed that looked like it belonged in a medieval castle, its dark wood carved with intricate designs that caught the firelight. A door beside it presumably led to what could only be an equally impressive bathroom.
Then she spotted him.
Calix sat alone on the sofa near the fire, a plate balanced on one knee and several reports scattered across the nearby coffee table.
The firelight painted gold across his sharp features, transforming him from the commanding king she'd met earlier into something more human.
More vulnerable. His attention appeared fixed on nothing in particular, his green eyes distant and unfocused.
For the first time since meeting him, he looked genuinely alone and utterly exhausted.
The weight of responsibility sat heavy on his shoulders, visible in the way he held himself even in the privacy of his own chambers.
His dark hair fell across his forehead, disrupted from its usual perfect arrangement.
His shirt sleeves were rolled up, revealing forearms corded with muscle and marked by a thin scar she hadn't noticed before.
The sight caught her completely off guard and her chest tightened unexpectedly, some unnamed emotion flaring to life.
Maybe he was thinking about the outbreak, about Essin lying pale and weak in that hospital bed.
Maybe he was thinking about council politics and Cevryn's barely concealed hostility. Maybe he was thinking about—
Stop.
She had no business wondering whether the king of Ashvorn was thinking about her. About whatever had sparked between them during those brief moments of contact. About the way something inside her had recognized him despite meeting him less than twelve hours ago.
Unfortunately, her mental distraction lasted long enough for him to sense her presence.
Calix looked up sharply, the plate nearly slipping from his hand.
For a brief second, genuine surprise flashed across his face—eyebrows raised, lips parted slightly, those green eyes widening before they focused on her with laser intensity.
Then something stranger replaced the surprise. Relief. Unmistakable and immediate, as though her presence had solved some problem he'd been struggling with.
"Arvid." His voice carried a roughness. "What are you doing up here?"
Heat flooded her cheeks at being caught wandering through his private space. "Sorry to startle you. I just had some questions."
His expression immediately shifted, becoming more alert. "I wasn't expecting you." His gaze held hers a little too long, searching for something she couldn't name. "I thought you might have gone to bed for the evening."
"I had questions about Tal. About these restrictions. About whether I'm going to have a shadow attached to me every moment I'm outside my room."
The corner of his mouth twitched, not quite a smile but close enough to make her heart skip. Then his eyes drifted toward her stomach as it betrayed her with an embarrassingly audible growl that echoed in the sudden silence.
Heat flooded her cheeks. Nothing like advertising her basic human needs to the king of an alien territory.
Calix's smile appeared fully this time, transforming his entire face from stern authority to something warmer and infinitely more dangerous to her carefully maintained emotional distance. "Are you hungry?"
"Yes," she replied before she could stop herself. The admission felt strangely vulnerable.
"I can prepare something."
Her gaze shifted toward his plate, where what looked like roasted meat and vegetables sat barely touched. The food looked simple, warm, and comforting. Real food.
Before she could think better of it, words tumbled from her mouth. "How about we share?"
The suggestion hung in the air between them. Then settled with weight she hadn't intended. Because suddenly sharing his dinner sounded far more intimate than she'd meant it to. Like crossing some invisible boundary from professional courtesy into something decidedly more personal.
Calix went completely still, his green eyes darkening as they locked on hers. Then he cleared his throat. "That works too."
His voice carried undertones that made her heart race. She pretended not to notice the way his attention lingered on her lips. He pretended not to notice the way her breathing had changed. Both of them were lying, and both of them knew it.
Moments later she found herself settling beside him on the large sofa near the fire, close enough that his scent wrapped around her like a physical presence.
The entire situation felt absurd—sharing dinner with an alien king in his private chambers after knowing him for less than a day.
Yet also strangely comfortable, as though some part of her had been waiting for exactly this moment without realizing it.
Calix remained tense beside her, though.
Not uncomfortable with her presence, but more like a man actively fighting some internal battle.
Every time their fingers brushed while reaching for the shared fork, his jaw tightened.
When she shifted closer to better reach the plate, his breathing changed.
The longer she sat beside him, the more obvious his struggle became.
"So about Tal," she said, breaking the charged silence before it could consume what remained of her common sense.
Calix explained the arrangement with careful professionalism.
Tal would accompany her throughout Ashvorn when Calix couldn't. More escort than shadow—transportation to and from the medical facilities, presence during meetings with council members, backup if situations became complicated.
Not hovering over her shoulder in the lab itself. And definitely never here at Ashspire.
Arvid considered this, taking another bite of what turned out to be surprisingly excellent food. The arrangement didn't sound unreasonable. "I can live with that."