Chapter 25
Serafina
“Tell me more about Nyxa,” Ryjax says, leaning against the doorframe like he has been all morning.
I don’t know why, but he won’t come into the room. Instead, he lingers there, his posture deceptively casual though his every movement, or lack thereof, hints at a storm simmering just beneath the surface.
Something’s wrong, terribly wrong, inarguably wrong. I can see it in his eyes, his face, his whole damn body.
But I’ve yet to ask him, choosing to answer his questions instead.
“She’s lovely,” I say. “She taught me how to shield myself.”
“And it’s still holding quite well,” Nyxa says, her voice full of pride. A small smile tugs at my lips despite the tension in the room. “You won’t need to do maintenance for at least another few days.”
“And she’s been in your head for how long?”
The days have been blurring together, time moving faster than it ever has before, but at this point…I’ve been at the palace for about a month, but I only really began hearing her a week ago, or at least, that’s when I started talking to her back.
“Not long. She was able to feel me before I felt her.”
“That would make sense if her connection to the element formed before yours.” He brings his hand to his chin, as if this is something in need of serious contemplation.
I wish he would believe me when I told him that Nyxa wasn’t a threat. I know she’s not. I can feel it. But he seems a bit more skeptical than I ever was.
“Nyxa,” I ask her, suddenly curious, “when did your ability to call upon the flames occur?” We spend so much time talking about me, focusing on me, that I really haven’t asked much about her, and now I feel selfish.
“Do not feel that way, Serafina. We focus on you because your third trial approaches. We’ll have all the time in the world to talk about me when I arrive. That’s a promise.”
I shake my head at that. “You didn’t answer my question.”
She sighs. “It was a very long time ago.”
“And where is she from?” Jax’s words interrupt me from our conversation.
“I…uh…”
I asked her once before, but the question never got answered.
“Why is the prince so interested in me?” she huffs, and I can’t say I blame her for not wanting Ryjax, a royal and a shadow wielder, to know more about her.
“Enough questions about Nyxa,” I say, moving closer to him. “Let’s talk about you.”
“Me?” His response is incredulous, as if I’ve suggested something utterly absurd.
“Yes, you,” I press. “You may be good at hiding your emotions, but you’re not that good. Something happened, and whatever it is, you’re clearly not okay.”
He crosses his arms, his eyes failing to meet mine, and his fingers twitch, as if resisting the urge to reach out for something.
“Or someone.” Nyxa chuckles, and I roll my eyes.
“Fine,” I say, refusing to hide the frustration in my voice. “Have it your way.”
Releasing a sigh, I walk away from him, realizing that it doesn’t matter how close I think we’ve grown. It doesn’t matter that he told me I could know him. It doesn’t matter that he spent all of last night dancing with me and only me because when it really comes down to it…he is still the prince.
And I will never know him.
Not really.
“Serafina.” He says my name as if it pains him, and the sound of it on his lips has me stopping dead in my tracks, and then I feel him behind me, releasing a shaky breath.
I spin, and he’s right there. Not even a step away.
There’s so much torment in his gaze, and my heart aches something painful, sharp and deep, like it might tear me apart.
“Friends are allowed to comfort each other, you know,” I say, trying my best to hide the waver in my voice as I raise my hand ever so slowly to rest on his cheek.
He leans into my touch, and his eyes flutter shut, but I don’t miss the way his entire body shudders, and how mine begs to, too.
“Is that what we are, Nova?” His voice is low and ragged. “Friends?”
The question catches me off guard, and I hesitate. When I first arrived here, we were most certainly not friends. Even a few weeks ago, I never would have said such a thing.
But now?
Now, I think we are.
Now, I want us to be.
The only problem is, it’s not the only thing I want.
I want more. So much more.
But I know I can never have it.
So friends will have to do, even though the mere thought of something so simple, so inadequate, existing between us—when all I want is something earthshattering, something elevating—makes me want to scream.
I breathe the anger down.
“Yes,” I finally tell him, and without opening his eyes, he reaches up to grab my hand that rests on his face.
He pulls it down and presses it against his chest. I can feel his heart hammering beneath my palm, a wild rhythm that matches my own.
He grabs my other hand and places it there as well, holding both of them over the frantic beat.
Then, his eyes open, and I think I’m falling. His gaze is so intense, so consuming, it makes the ground beneath me disappear. All I can do is lean into him, my body moving of its own accord.
He releases my hands, and somehow, they find their way to the nape of his neck. My fingers thread through his hair, soft and unruly, and he hums, the sound reverberating through me.
“And this…this is how you comfort your friends?” he asks, dipping his head so his forehead is once again resting against mine.
My insides melt.
My throat goes dry, but I force a swallow.
“No…” I manage to say, trying my best to not allow the heat to rush to my cheeks, giving away how foolish I am.
But it’s the truth.
I only have one friend, Char, and although I’ve touched him many times, hugged him after a hard day, I’ve never felt this. It’s never been like this.
“Only you.”
He stills. Every muscle, every movement ceasing to exist.
“Say that again,” he demands, his voice rough and raw, filled with something primal.
I don’t remember how to breathe. I don’t want to because all I want is to focus on him, and even breathing feels like an unnecessary distraction.
“Only you, Jax.”
He leans in closer, his lips hovering over mine, and it takes all of my self-control to not close the space between us. To not press my lips to his and take everything I want, everything he’s willing to give.
But I don’t move.
And neither does he.
“There’s something I need to tell you,” he says, and my brain barely registers the words. My mind, my eyes, focused on only one thing.
That divine mouth of his.
His fingers find my hips, and there’s no feeling I love more than having his hands on me.
“Tell me after.”
“Nova.” He groans, but his grip on me tightens, and I never want to live another day without hearing him make that sound.
I move in closer, just a fraction of a hair. I just…need to know…what he tastes—
The door flings open, and Jax and I pull apart just as palace guards flood the room, throwing a bleeding Ishla to the floor.
I burst into flames.