Chapter 20
MALAKAI
Ihave spent the last twelve hours counting the beats of my own heart, and every single one of them has belonged to her.
They always have.
Since she tore off at a suicidal gallop, practically throwing herself off the saddle to sprint up the stairs and lock herself away, I’ve replayed every moment of that kiss in my mind.
Every curve of her body, every breath she took.
Aveline didn't come down for the evening meal.
She didn't let Ter through the window.
She has treated my castle like a fortress within a fortress, hiding from the ghost of a kiss that nearly brought the entire Elder Forest to its knees.
All I can think is that the one time I let my self-control slip with her has ruined any progress I’ve made.
I rub my lips as though I can still taste her on them.
The Shadow Keeps find her before I do, whispering of a quiet, stubborn presence out in the eastern courtyard.
When I step into the cold, midnight air of the rose garden, the scent of frost-bitten petals and damp stone hits me. And there she is. Sitting on the low, curved stone bench beneath the arched iron trellis.
My chest tightens. It is the exact same bench she sat on three hundred years ago when the white winter roses were in bloom, looking up at me with the same defiant set to her jaw.
This version of her soul doesn't remember choosing the stonework, doesn't remember the hours we spent here arguing over court logistics, but her body chose it anyway.
Instinct is a beautiful, terrifying thing.
"You're going to freeze out here, Duchess," I say softly, keeping my steps slow so I don't send her running into the night again.
Aveline stiffens, her back straightening into that rigid, elegant line her mother taught her. She doesn't look at me. She keeps her eyes fixed on a frozen rosebud. "The air is clear out here. I needed to think."
"About the ward?" I step closer, the shadows around my boots rippling with a heavy, restless longing. About me?
"About the magic," she corrects sharply, finally looking up.
Her beautiful, aristocratic face is pale in the moonlight, her rosebud mouth set in a defensive pout.
"I want to try it again. Alone. Without…
" She swallows, her gaze flicking to my lips before she darts it away, her cheeks flaring with a sudden, delicious pink. "Without the distractions."
God help me, the standoffishness makes me want her even more. It is a shield, and I know exactly how fragile it is.
"Very well," I murmur, closing the distance until I am standing right over her. The temperature has plummeted, the autumn wind biting through the fine fabric of her overdress. Her hands are tucked into her lap, but I can see the slight, telltale tremor in her fingers. "Show me. Summon the spark."
Aveline takes a deep breath, her chest rising sharply.
She extends her hand, her brow furrowing in deep concentration.
For a long, quiet moment, nothing happens.
Then, a faint, erratic glimmer of orange-gold light spits from her knuckles.
It struggles, flickering like a dying candle in the wind, before snapping out completely.
She lets out a frustrated, shaky breath, her shoulders sagging. "It won't catch. It felt so easy in the woods."
"Because you are fighting the current," I say, my voice dropping an octave.
I want to touch her so badly it feels like a physical ache in my ribs, but I force my hands to remain at my sides.
"You are trying to force it from your head.
Magic doesn't live in your thoughts, Aveline.
It lives in your blood. It lives where you feel. "
"I'm cold," she whispers, a tiny deflection to hide her frustration.
I don't say a word. I shed my heavy, fur-lined velvet cloak in a single movement. Stepping behind the stone bench, I drape the massive garment over her shoulders. The coat completely swallows her small frame, the high collar framing her face in thick, dark fur.
Aveline gasps softly, instinctively burying herself deeper into the fabric.
It is saturated with my heat, with the scent of midnight, ozone, and the dark vanilla of my domain.
For a second, she looks entirely overwhelmed, entirely consumed by me, and the sheer, agonizing yearning that slams into my chest makes me dizzy.
I want to wrap my arms around her from behind, pull her back against my chest, and keep her warm for the rest of eternity.
I want to remind her soul of every single thing we lost.
Instead, I gently rest my hands on the fur at her shoulders, keeping her anchored. "Better?"
"Yes," she mumbles, her voice muffled by the collar. She doesn't pull away from my touch. Progress is slow, but it is mine.
"Again," I command softly, my breath stirring the loose strands of her blonde hair. "Don't think about the cold. Don't think about the castle. Just find the heat."
Underneath my coat, I see her chest expand as she takes a massive, grounding breath.
She extends her hand again. This time, she doesn't force it.
She lets out a soft sigh, and a brilliant, steady sphere of orange-gold light erupts from her palm, casting a warm, magnificent glow over the frozen roses.
It doesn't flicker. It burns steady and true, reflecting in her wide, bright eyes.
"Malakai," she breathes, a stunning, genuine smile breaking across her face. "I did it."
"I never doubted you," I say, my throat tight.
She holds the light for another long moment before letting it fade naturally, her face turning back up to mine. The standoffish wall has cracked, just a fraction, leaving her looking at me with a raw, breathless curiosity that tests every single ounce of my restraint.
"That is enough for tonight," I say, my voice a gravelly rasp as I step back, forcing myself to break the proximity before I ruin everything. "Come. I am walking you back to your room before the frost takes your toes."
She stands, clutching my massive coat tightly around herself like a shield, and walks beside me in a charged, heavy silence. When we reach the heavy oak door of her bedchamber, she pauses, her hand on the iron latch.
"Goodnight, Shadow King," she says softly.
"Goodnight, Duchess," I reply, staying rooted to the stones until her door clicks shut, locking me out in the dark.