Chapter 22
TWENTY-TWO
The candles had burned low, pools of wax collecting at their bases.
Jesenia sat curled in Val-Theris’s private library, the same room that still smelled faintly of ink and sandalwood.
For weeks she had come here every night, reading the histories he loved, surrounding herself with the ghosts of his voice and his handwriting.
Outside, the storm murmured against the stained-glass windows. She turned another page, the sound of parchment soft in the hush—then froze.
A floorboard creaked.
Jesenia’s heart stuttered. The guards were never allowed this deep into the king’s private wing. She glanced toward the shelves and, before thinking, gripped a heavy book in both hands. The moment another shadow slipped through the aisles, she swung.
A pale hand caught the spine in midair.
“Peace, my fierce scholar,” Val-Theris said, laughing under his breath. “I leave for a few weeks and you arm yourself with literature. I thought you were a pacifist?”
Relief broke into laughter before she could stop it. The book slipped from her fingers and thudded softly to the carpet.
“I thought you would be at the border still,” she said breathlessly before throwing herself into his warm, waiting arms.
He smiled—tired and beautiful. “I needed to see you before I had to be king again.”
His kiss came hard and sudden, all the days of separation collapsing into a single heartbeat. Her hands tangled in his sweat-damp hair; his wings trembled open, enclosing her in warmth and the scent of him.
When they parted, he leaned his forehead against hers. “Korvath’s soldiers are retreating for now,” he murmured, voice low and rough.
Jesenia touched his cheek, tracing the faint bruise along his jaw. “You look like a man who has fought the sun itself.”
He kissed her once more, softer this time, lingering. “I cannot stay long. I have much to do. But I could not bear another moment without seeing you.”
Her hands rested over his heart, feeling its frantic rhythm. “Then savor this moment with me.”
“I can give you more than that,” he said. “Wait for me in my chambers. When I return, I will take you to our sanctuary where the stars are nearest. And there, Jesenia…” His voice deepened, promise threading through every syllable. “There I will love you until the heavens tire of watching.”
He kissed her fingertips, one by one, then stepped back, his wings drawing close.
The door closed behind him with the hush of feathers, leaving the scent of rain and a heartbeat of silence. Jesenia pressed her hand to her lips, smiling through tears, and looked up toward the domed ceiling where the stars glimmered faintly through the glass—already waiting for them.