Chapter 36
Esther
How to make a noble sacrifice: weep internally while being awkward externally.
The orphanage was quieter than usual when Esther returned
Children napped in uneven bundles across cots and benches, limbs tangled together for warmth.
The older ones swept the courtyard in lazy, circular patterns that suggested both routine and exhaustion. Lentil porridge lingered in the air, its scent clinging to the stone like a memory that refused to fade.
Everything looked the same.
Esther felt wrong inside her own body.
Each step echoed too loudly in her ears, as though the ground itself were aware of what she
intended to do. Her fingers trembled when she closed the gate behind her, the metal latch colder than it had any right to be.
Nythir knelt by the wall, carefully repairing a splintered chair leg. His sleeves were rolled up, forearms dusted with sawdust and faint, old scars. His hair was tied back loosely, a smudge of charcoal darkening one cheek where he’d forgotten to wipe his hands.
When he looked up and saw her expression, his smile faltered immediately.
“Essie? Are you hurt?”
“No,” she whispered. “Just… thinking.”
He didn’t press. Nythir never did. He waited, steady and present, as if he trusted her to find her way to the truth on her own.
She hated how much that made her love him.
Esther folded her hands together so he wouldn’t see them shaking.
“I want to go out for a bit,” she said softly. “With you. Just us.”
“A stroll?” His brows knit together. “Now?”
“Yes.” She forced a brittle smile. “A stroll.”
His hesitation lasted only a heartbeat before he nodded. “Of course.”
They walked through the outer plaza as evening began to settle, the city shifting into its second life.
Lanterns were being lit one by one, their glow uneven where oil was scarce. Merchants argued quietly over closing prices. Somewhere, a child laughed too loudly, the sound sharp against the backdrop of fatigue.
Usually, Esther could lose herself in Nythir’s presence—in the warmth of his shoulder near hers, in the way their steps fell into unconscious rhythm. Tonight, her attention snagged on everything else.
Two women argued over a loaf of bread that was clearly too small to satisfy either of them. A man slept on the curb, ribs visible even beneath his coat. A little girl held out a cracked bowl, eyes too old for her face.
Each sight reopened the same wound.
Nythir noticed the way her gaze lingered. “We can turn back,” he offered gently. “The market can be… a lot.”
“It’s not the noise,” Esther murmured. “It’s everything.”
She wanted to remember him. The way he drifted closer when the crowd pressed in. The protective angle of his body. The glances he kept sneaking at her like she was something fragile and precious.
But instead, all she saw was what her people lacked.
What they needed.
What she had the power to help, if she gave up everything else.
She swallowed hard. “Nythir… would you—could we—”
He looked down at her, eyes soft. “Anything.”
“Could we rent a room tonight?” she blurted.
He blinked.
Once.
Twice.
A faint, bright red flush crept up his neck.
“Rent a—” He choked. “A room? For… sleeping?”
Esther felt her own face ignite. “Not for sleeping.”
“Oh.” Nythir froze completely, ears rigid, eyes wide like a startled animal. “Oh!”
She covered her face with both hands. “You don’t have to! I just—I want—I mean—” She dropped her hands helplessly. “I want to choose something for myself. Just once. And I choose you.”
He stared at her like she’d just said the moon had been carved for him personally.
“Essie,” he breathed, “are you sure?”
Her throat tightened. “Yes.”
He swallowed so hard she saw it move. “Then… yes. Of course. We can. I mean. Yes. Absolutely. Tonight. A room. Together.”
He paused. “Not for sleeping.”
She groaned and buried her face in his cloak while he laughed nervously, hands hovering awkwardly, unsure where he was allowed to touch.
The inn they chose sat on the edge of the district, tucked between shuttered shops and quiet alleys.
It smelled of clean linens and old wood. The lanterns burned low and warm.
The innkeeper’s knowing smile nearly undid them both.
Upstairs, behind the closed door of their room, the world narrowed.
The bed was neatly made. The lantern cast a golden glow. The space felt too small and far too intimate.
“If you want to change your mind,” Nythir said quietly, closing the door, “I’ll still be here. I’ll still want you.”
Esther crossed the room and took his face in her hands. “I don’t want to change my mind.”
As soon as her eyes met his, he pulled her against him. His mouth met hers hungrily. His calm demeanor fell away as he frantically, clumsily deepened their kiss.
Esther moaned, arching her body into him. His tongue slid against her lips, begging for entrance.
She obeyed.
Nythir’s hand slid up her back, thumb brushing over the place where her pulse fluttered wildly beneath her skin. Esther gasped softly into his mouth, the sound unguarded, and felt his control waver in response.
“Essie,” he murmured, barely more than breath.
The way he said her name with such need made her knees weaken.
She pressed her forehead to his, breathing him in. The room felt impossibly quiet, as though the world itself had paused out of respect.
“I want this,” she said. “I want you.”
“I need you,” he breathed, tightening his hold on her.
Esther laughed awkwardly. She wasn’t sure what to do next or how to continue.
Then Nythir lifted her. Unlike his usual calm and calculated movements, this was an ungraceful effort that made her grin as she hooked her legs around him and met his lips again. She rocked into the heat she felt, moaning into his mouth.
Nythir misjudged the distance to the mattress in his frenzied need for her, toppling them onto the rough mattress. Nythir caught himself with a soft, helpless laugh that vanished the moment Esther kissed him again.
Esther’s hands slid under his collar, over warm skin, drawing him down until there was barely space for breath between them.
Nythir licked along the curve of her throat with reverent attention, lingering where her pulse fluttered, while her legs tightened instinctively around his hips.
He moved without quite realizing it at first, a slow, instinctive rock that drew a soft sound from them both as his hands began to explore, gentle and sure all at once.
“Are you ready?” he asked, his hand already traveling under her dress, up her thigh.
“Yes,” she answered with a shaky voice.
She squeaked when his teasing fingers finished their journey up her thigh and rubbed against her.
“It’s okay,” he soothed, kissing her mouth again. “Just touching.” He let his fingers explore the soft, swollen folds, finding a slick, startling wetness. She was ready for him. The knowledge made him dizzy with desire. He found a little nub, hard as a pearl, and circled it with a tentative finger.
Esther cried out, her whole body tensing. “What is that?”
“Something good,” he rasped, watching her face. Her eyes were squeezed shut, her lips parted. He kept up the gentle, circular motion, learning what made her gasp, what made her legs fall open wider.
He slid a finger lower, into her heat. She was so tight, so unbelievably hot. He pushed in slowly, up to his knuckle.
“You feel… incredible,” he gritted out, his own need a throbbing ache. He added a second finger, stretching her gently, preparing her. She was panting now, little cries escaping with each exhale.
Her breaths became short, frantic pants.
Her hands clawed at the sheets. He watched, mesmerized, as pleasure overtook her, as her muscles tightened and a flush spread across her chest. With a sharp, broken cry, she came apart around his fingers, her body bowing, then melting into the mattress in a series of shuddering waves.
She lay boneless, her chest heaving. Slowly, she opened her eyes, dazed and glowing.
“That’s not fair,” Esther sighed.
“Oh?” Nythir teased, playing oblivious.
She huffed a quiet laugh, breathless and fed up, fingers tightening in his shirt as if she’d finally had enough of his restraint.
“You’re doing that on purpose,” she murmured.
Then, before he could deny it, she shifted her weight and rolled them both with surprising ease.
He went willingly, laughter breaking from him as he landed on his back, eyes bright and utterly unbothered as Esther settled astride him.
“Impatient,” he teased softly, hands sliding to her hips. She smiled down at him, all heat and triumph, very clearly done waiting.
“This time, I’m not straddling you by accident,” Esther smiled.
“It would be a problem if you were,” he huffed.
Nythir grabbed her hips and rocked against her. She may have been on top of him, but he was the one in control.
“I want to see you,” he groaned, tugging at the buttons on her dress. Esther caught his fumbling fingers before he could reveal her to him. “You first,” she huffed.
He laughed softly, breathless, and let his hands fall away as Esther shifted her weight and reached for him instead, fingers quick and decisive. She made short work of his clothes, tugging and pushing until fabric was forgotten somewhere at the edge of the bed, his attention fixed entirely on her.
When she returned to her own dress, it was slower now, deliberate, the slide of fabric and the shared intake of breath saying far more than bare skin ever could. By the time they met again, knees braced and hands roaming, there was nothing left between them but the shared need.
“Ready?” he asked, pushing his cock against her entrance.
She nodded and rocked into him. It burned as he pushed into her, spreading her open. But it was mixed with pleasure. And above all else, they were connected.
She was connected with the man she loved, for the first and last time. She was soaking in all his sounds and touches. Committing everything about him to memory.
They came together beneath the lantern’s glow, the world narrowing to heat and breath and the steady press of his body against hers. Esther clutched at his shoulders as sensation overwhelmed her, grounding herself in the solid truth of him.
When the light dimmed and the night closed around them, Esther let go.
Just for a little while.
Later, wrapped in warmth and quiet, she lay with her cheek pressed to his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heart. His arm was draped over her waist, possessive without meaning to be, protective in the way only someone deeply asleep could be.
Esther traced idle patterns against his skin, memorizing this too.
She did not cry.
But the ache in her chest told her she would remember this for the rest of her life.
She should have been happy. Sated. Safe.
Instead, guilt gnawed at her ribs.
She reached out, brushing her fingertips across Nythir’s forearm. He didn’t stir.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered so softly the lantern couldn’t hear it.
“I love you. But they need me more.”
She closed her eyes.
Tonight, she would return to the castle.
Tomorrow, she would accept her arranged marriage.
Carefully, she removed her bracelet and set it beside him, a small token of her fleeting time together. She hoped, selfishly, that he might remember her sometimes, just as she would never forget these moments.
Esther lingered at the door, taking one last look.
Then, with a deep, steadying breath, she stepped into the night.