Chapter 3 #2
“I don’t blame you. She’s graceful. Poised. Normal. Everything…” she continued, her throat clenched. “Everything I’m not.”
He stopped breathing. She believed he’d chosen someone else. A frustrated growl clawed up his throat.
No. No, no.
He turned to her and gripped her arms.
“Eris, listen to me.” His voice shook. “It’s true. My father had this planned for years. But I have told him again and again. I’m not marrying Bianca.” Stephan’s chest rose and fell unevenly. His grip tightened. “He can’t force me. Not when my heart and soul belong to someone else.”
Eris parted her lips as doubt flickered in her eyes. “I don’t understand.”
His throat felt dry. Then he said it. “It's you, Eris.” The words came out ragged, desperate. His fingers curled against her skin, a touch that lit every nerve in her body. “The only one I’ll ever belong to.”
Eris couldn’t breathe. His words echoed through her bones. The room blurred. Even the air felt close to breaking under the weight of what he’d said.
“You—” Her voice cracked. “Why didn’t you say something sooner?”
Stephan didn’t answer right away. The fire crackled as shadows danced across his face.
“I wrote to you for a year,” she whispered. “And not once—not once—did you tell me you missed me. That you thought of me. That I was not…alone in this. In wanting you.”
His jaw flexed. “Because I didn’t know how.
Not like that. Not in letters.” His voice was low, rough.
“What I wanted to say... I needed to say to your face. Not scratched out on parchment while you were miles away.” He exhaled sharply, fists clenched on his knees.
“A whole year, Eris. And every damn day, I missed you like hell.”
She stared at him, breathless. When she finally spoke, her voice cracked.
“So did I.” Her fingers dug into her knees. “We were idiots,” she said, softer now. “Pining in silence like some tragic ballad.”
He ran a hand through his hair, smiling, raw. Crooked.
“Yes, we were,” he said. “But gods, I would’ve waited another year if it meant hearing you say that back.”
Eris’s breath hitched. A bashful smile pulled at her lips as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear—an old, unguarded habit. Her gaze dropped for a beat, cheeks warming. Then, because she still didn’t know how to stay serious with him for long…
“Well,” she said airily, “you’re lucky I didn’t marry while you were gone.”
His brows shot up. “What?”
“General Veylor,” she said, feigning innocence. “That posturing peacock of a man… he was going to propose. Until he was mysteriously reassigned to the Outer Territories.”
He cleared his throat. “What an unfortunate coincidence.”
She tilted her head. “Stephan…”
He gave her a sheepish look but said nothing.
She stared at him. “You didn’t.”
He leaned back slightly and shrugged, far too casual. “I might’ve…nudged the reassignment.”
“You absolute monster.” She shoved his shoulder, lightly. “Sabotaging suitors? Truly?”
“He was a terrible option.”
She laughed. “I hate you.”
That sound, giddy and reckless, split something open in him. He had dreamed of it, starved for it. And now, here it was. He smiled teasingly.
“No, you don’t.”
“No,” she said, her breath catching. “I don’t.”
Their laughter faded, the fire cracked, and the silence that followed was no longer playful. It pulsed, hot. Waiting. He leaned in, not touching, just close enough for her to feel the heat of him, the tension wound tight beneath his skin. His name slipped from her lips like a prayer.
“Stephan…”
His hand lifted, trembling, hovering at her jaw. His gaze dropped to her mouth, as if his wanting were a wound he could no longer bear.
“I keep dreaming you’ll vanish if I touch you.”
She looked at him, wide-eyed, unguarded. Something inside her slipped loose.
“Then touch me before I do.”
And he did, as if her words had unshackled him.
His mouth crashed to hers like a man starved, reclaiming every moment he’d wasted.
Her gasp disappeared into him. Her fingers dug into his shoulders, pulling him closer.
His arms locked around her, as if afraid she might disappear.
She kissed him back with everything she had buried: all the longing, the silence, the missed chances.
It was desperate. Sacred. It was everything.
The fire burned beside them, heat licking at her skin, but it was nothing compared to the heat of him.
A groan rumbled in his chest as he dragged her closer, anchoring her in his lap.
She melted into him, her body pressed to his.
His hands slid down her back, settling at her waist, gripping like she was the only thing holding him together.
She tilted her head, deepening the kiss, letting herself taste the truth in it.
Then he heard footsteps.
Stephan stiffened. His lips lingered for one more second, before he wrenched himself back and cursed under his breath. His forehead touched hers, breath unsteady, hands still at her waist.
“Damn it,” he muttered.
Eris’s lips still burned. Another footstep echoed, closer this time.
Stephan cursed again and pulled away, the cold rushing in where his body had been.
He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply, shaking off the daze of what had just happened.
His breath was still uneven as he grabbed his shirt and coat from where they hung by the fire.
She stood frozen, arms wrapped around herself once more. His warmth still clung to her skin. She didn't want the moment to end.
“It’s past midnight,” he murmured, his voice raw. “No one should be here.”
His chest still rose too fast, too hard. He moved quickly, grabbing her hand, leading her through the darkened halls.
She barely felt her feet beneath her. She felt only the ghost of his mouth on hers, only his fingers curled around hers like a promise unspoken.
At her guest chamber door, he hesitated. His fingertips grazed her cheek so briefly, she barely felt it.
Then, with aching gentleness, he leaned in. His lips pressed to her forehead, soft, as if sealing something sacred.
As he pulled back, his fingers tilted her chin. His gaze held hers, fierce, reverent and unbearably tender, as if she were the only truth he had ever been sure of.
“Goodnight, Eris,” he murmured, his thumb brushing her bottom lip, like a memory he couldn’t bear to let fade. “We’ll reclaim every second they stole from us,” he said. “One heartbeat at a time.”
She smiled, radiant. He returned it, like he’d waited his whole life to see her smile like that. His touch lingered, just long enough to memorize her. Then he stepped back, not looking away until the last possible moment.
Finally, he turned.
She watched him disappear into the shadows, not lost, but carrying something of hers with him. She closed the door. The silence that followed should have comforted her. Instead, it spoke. A low voice curled through her mind like smoke. It spoke her name and something else. Something ancient.
Her pulse stuttered. Her fingers tightened on the wood.
The night no longer felt still.
Something had awakened, and it had marked her.