Chapter 14 Secret Promises
“King…”
The word echoed through the dream like a ripple of thunder, ancient, commanding, and utterly impossible.
And as the world around me began to infiltrate my subconscious, I could still feel it.
His presence lingered through the invisible thread that tied us.
That same pulse against the wall from before now thrummed from somewhere deeper, somewhere older.
Atlas.
A King.
And I wasn’t sure if I should be terrified… or in awe.
“Atlas…” His name slipped past my lips in a whisper before I even opened my eyes.
It lingered there, warm and heavy, like an echo of a dream I wasn’t ready to let go of.
For a fleeting second, I swore I could still feel him near me.
A faint pulse in the air and a hum just beyond the wall that separated our rooms.
Then reality crashed in.
I groaned as memories from last night assaulted me one by one.
I worried I’d gone ten rounds with a centaur’s hind legs, judging by the headache pounding behind my eyes.
But that’s what you get for eating a mountain of ice cream just before bed.
Daylight speared through the window, a cruel reminder that I’d slept far too long.
Still, I rolled over and buried my head under the comforter, mortified by everything that had come out of my mouth last night and the argument I’d started in front of my uncle.
At least The General and I had reached some kind of understanding. Maybe even… peace. Though if I said the last thing he’d told me hadn’t been playing on my mind, I’d be lying.
Because he wasn’t a General anymore, and I needed to start seeing him through different eyes.
“A King,” I muttered, questioning how that was even possible.
And if that was the case, then why the hell did everyone call him General?
My next groan of frustration did nothing to help the headache.
But then neither did the sharp knock that rattled the door, reverberating through the penthouse.
I tossed the covers back just as another knock came, flinching at the heavy thud against the wood.
When I opened it, I was relieved to find Bronte standing there and without fairy boy in tow, thank their ancient Gods.
“Hi,” I said, rubbing my eyes.
“Hello, Alex, I have come to inform you that General is waiting for you,” she greeted with a soft, melodic voice that carried a hint of hesitation.
It was as if she already knew about last night’s outburst and wasn’t sure if she was about to face an angry human.
Although she needn’t have worried. I’d already decided that this morning was a new start, and I was going to make an effort, even if it killed me.
“He’s waiting for me?” I echoed, my heart betraying me with a little flip at the mention of him. One I was no longer trying to deny.
“Your presence has been requested in the courtyard. You need to be there by midday. I can take you when you’re ready.” She lifted a duffel bag in her hand and gave it a little shake for emphasis. “You’ll want to pack for a couple of nights.”
Nerves crept up my spine. Why would the General…
no, the King, need me to pack a bag? Was he taking me somewhere?
Would my uncle be there? His soldiers? Too many questions flooded my mind, but I bit them back.
Especially since Bronte no doubt reported everything straight back to her superior.
And after last night’s dream, the last thing I wanted was for him to know just how much he actually occupied my thoughts.
“What time is it now?” I asked, trying to sound casual.
“Eleven,” she replied, her tone friendly and open. There was something about her I really liked. A genuine, calm, and disarmingly kind aura, even if she was a Myth. I opened the door wider.
“Would you like to come in while I get ready?”
She hesitated for a moment before smiling brightly.
“I’d be honored to accept your invitation inside. Thank you.”
I let her in, and she moved with easy grace, taking in the room before lowering herself onto the couch. She stretched her long legs out and crossed her feet, her silver armor catching the light from the window next to her.
“This is a nice room,” she remarked, glancing around with an appreciative nod. One I caught before walking back into my bedroom.
“Your room isn’t like this?” I called from the closet, trying to decide what I even needed to pack.
“No,” she said lightly.
“There are only a few penthouses on this floor. Just this one and the one next door, which is the General’s own quarters.”
I froze mid-motion, the top in my hands twisting into a knot.
“He’s next door?”
“Of course,” she replied simply, as if this was common knowledge.
However, before I could fully process that revelation, she appeared in the doorway beside me, moving as silently as a shadow. Then she nodded toward the closet.
“Pack for two nights. And I suggest warm, comfortable clothes.”
I wanted to ask why, as I opened the drawer to grab my new fancy underwear. But before I could, I caught her leaning over my shoulder. She grinned faintly.
“Yeah, I can’t help with that part.”
“Yeah, you and me both,” I muttered under my breath.
My time for packing came and went faster than I’d realized. Before long, Bronte was escorting me through the lobby and out into the cool brightness of the morning.
I spotted him the second the doors opened, and like always, he stole my breath.
Atlas.
No longer The General but now a King, he waited in front of the hotel, sunlight gleaming against his polished black armor. And though I’d expected a small army waiting beside him, ready to escort us wherever it was he planned to take me, I was wrong.
It was only him.
Well, him and his huge, intimidating horse.
The sight of him alone, tall and commanding, his horse shifting restlessly beneath him… it did strange things to my stomach. I couldn’t decide if I wanted to run the other way or walk straight into the gravity of his gaze.
As we approached, Bronte’s friendly demeanor vanished, replaced by a mask of crisp professionalism. Her spine straightened, and her tone softened into something reverent. I tried not to smile, but the ache in my cheeks betrayed me.
Atlas caught sight of us and moved with effortless grace. He removed his feet from the stirrups and dismounted in one fluid motion that looked far too elegant for a man built for war. The movement alone was enough to make my breath catch.
When he bowed his head to me in greeting, that same confusing warmth pooled low in my chest. I still didn’t know what to do when he did that.
Whether to bow back, salute, or just… stand there looking like an idiot.
So, I ended up lowering my head in what I hoped was a passable imitation, giving cause for the slight smirk to appear at the corner of his lips.
He turned to Bronte next, offering her a respectful nod, which she returned with a full, deep bow. One I now understood better. However,
his attention quickly returned to me, and I almost wanted to squirm under his dark gaze. I even ran my sweaty palms down my stonewash jeans, already feeling hot in my long-sleeved, grey knit sweater. I also had a jacket rolled up in the duffel bag that I was thankful I had chosen not to wear.
Without a word, he reached for the duffel bag slung over my shoulder.
His fingers brushed against my arm, light but firm, and it was ridiculous how that single touch made my pulse stumble.
He carried the pack to his massive horse and secured it behind the cantle of the saddle, threading the strap through one of the D-rings with careful precision.
“That will be all, Bronte,” he said at last.
“Yes, my lord,” she replied smoothly. The title rolled from her tongue without hesitation, and it hit differently hearing it spoken aloud. A confirmation of what I already knew.
My lord.
My King.
And now it was just the two of us.
The air between us thickened. The world seemed to quiet, leaving only the rhythmic sound of the horse’s breath and the faint rustle of the wind around us.
I could feel his eyes on me before I dared to look up, and when I finally did, it was like standing too close to a flame, fascinating and far too dangerous.
“Alexandra,” he said my name like a gentle caress, and suddenly that smirk playing at his lips didn't annoy me as much as it had done before.
“And as for you, what is it you prefer to go by? Should I also call you, my lord?” I asked, the feel of a half-smile playing at my own lips this time, in a teasing way.
“The name I gave you last night, you are free to use, as I am not your King, nor should you ever view me as such,” he replied, and I could tell by the way he said it, it wasn't something I should take as contemptuous. But more of a sentiment of us being on equal footing.
“Very well, Atlas,” I said, testing out the name for the first time in front of him.
And let's just say it didn't go unnoticed, as that same soft white glow showed in his eyes, flashing there for just a moment.
I was starting to realize that it portrayed his true feelings.
Like a signal that revealed his true nature.
It felt as if every time it happened, little by little, I was breaking down his defenses.
I then nodded toward the horse, one that I had become acquainted with when we had travelled from the river back to the prison.
And from the way it was loaded up, it seemed as if I would be doing the same again.
“I'm starting to think you have an aversion to cars,” I commented.
“Not at all. I find them quite convenient at times. However, where we're going, a car wouldn't be much use to us. At least not for the last half of the journey,” he told me, making it even more mysterious.
“Speaking of which, where are we going exactly? Or is this you being cryptic once more?” I teased, amazed that I felt so at ease to do so.