30. Chapter 30 #3
Her chin rose, a silent but powerful declaration of her refusal to yield. And, fuck, I loved that about her too. But then I watched the exact moment hurt flickered beneath the anger.
“I’m a tool here. Just like I was in Selmont.”
“Never.” It was perhaps the second most impulsive action I’d ever taken, but I raised my hand to her stubborn chin and gently cradled it.
The heat between us was immediate. The bond surged, making heat flood my veins, and a tightness grip my chest. She felt it too. I saw it in the way her breath faltered.
“I deserve your ire,” I said. “And I know I don’t get to repair this by wanting you badly enough.” Her breath hitched, but I made myself continue. “I’ll fix what’s between us if it’s the last thing I do.”
Her lips parted in surprise and dawning realization. She remembered.
The space between us shrank to almost nothing as I took that step forward. I could feel the warmth of her breath against my mouth. If she leaned forward even a fraction—if she gave me the smallest permission—I wouldn’t stop.
Her eyes searched my face, as if looking for the man from the cabin. The one who’d laughed easier. The one who’d been able to touch her without needing to cage her just to keep her safe. I wished I could give her him.
Moonlight didn’t fear the dark—it never would’ve occurred to it. That was the problem. She’d walk straight into me, and I would close around her without meaning to, the way shadows did, the way night did: completely, and without apology.
I had to be careful with the brightest light in my sky.
I went on before I lost my nerve. “When Berian is stable, I will arrange your return to Selmont.”
She went still.
“I hate that you’re surprised,” I said, disliking how raw the words sounded. “A carriage with guards. Coin for repairs. Supplies for the village. And if you decide never to set foot in the Tir again, I’ll miss you until the day I die.”
For the first time, her anger wavered into something I hoped was promising.
“Easy to say in a hallway,” she countered.
“I missed you more than I thought it was possible to miss a person.”
Her breath hitched, her lips parting slightly.
Behind us, the door swung open, and I quickly stepped back, letting my hand fall. Her warmth vanished, leaving me feeling like a snuffed-out candle, ruined and lifeless in the dark.
“But, Lunette, even if it destroys me,” I whispered, “I have to protect you from my world.”
You deserve better than a man who’s on the verge of burning it down for you.
Thank the gods it was Reina who entered the hallway. Her gaze swept between us. “Careful,” she mouthed.
I inclined my head like the obedient prince and took another step back. There was no indulgence or amusement on her face, though—only assessment.
“Lord Coryanthus’s courier arrived moments ago,” she said, voice pitched low. “He didn’t wait for discretion.”
Ice slid down my spine.
“The news out of Freuxcourt has been announced,” Reina continued evenly. “To everyone.” Reina’s eyes held mine. “And they’re already discussing the vacancy.”
A vacancy on the queen’s throne meant urgency. And urgency meant leverage they could hold over Berian and me.
I could already hear Coryanthus’s voice cutting through the swell—measured, persuasive, positioning the continuity of bloodlines as essential for Larethia’s future. He didn’t have a sister or a niece to offer. So who?
My gaze slid to Lunette. Powerful. Unclaimed. And a political wildcard someone could turn to their advantage.
But mine.
The hypocrisy of the thought sat in my gut like curdled milk.
I’d signed her summons with my royal seal and told myself no one would decide her future but her—right up until the moment I’d decided it myself.
I’d done it for the right reasons. I still believed that.
But so had every man who’d ever made a decision about a woman’s life and called it protection.
I was just like my brother, who’d spent the last twenty years deciding that my nature needed to be managed and used rather than understood.
Even if it meant giving up everything, I couldn’t let that happen to her again.
Now the court would move quickly to push for alliances, betrothals, for the consolidation of their power even before the letter about Lunette made it to the Mage Assembly in Caervorn.
What began as panic solidified into unwavering determination. I’d thought I’d had until morning. But now the torch was under both our feet—hers burning even hotter than mine—and Lunette didn’t even know it yet.
I watched as she walked back to her rooms with Reina. I had practice letting her go, but the repetition did nothing to dull the sting.
The din from the hall grew louder as I placed my hand on the door, a cacophony of men and women driven by ambition, ready to seize what they wanted, their lives defined by the belief that wanting was justification enough.
Back into the lion’s den.
I’d fight for her. I’d die for her. There was no question about that. But this time—for the first time—I was fighting for myself too.