Chapter 19
NINETEEN
From this height, Solmiris was nothing more than a shimmer of gold veins in the dark—its towers and bridges softened by the night wind, its noise swallowed by distance.
Val-Theris stood at the edge of the parapet, wings folded loosely behind him.
The moonlight caught along the curve of each feather, turning him into something that could not hide its divinity.
He had brought Jesenia to a place that few knew of, and none could enter without the flight he was born with.
It was a platform of marble high in the mountains, above the golden dome of the palace. It offered an unobscured view of the city below, and the world beyond stretched for miles upon miles.
Jesenia stepped closer, her breath visible in the cool air. “I didn’t know there was a way up here,” she said quietly.
“There isn’t,” he replied, looking back at her with a small, knowing smile. “Not for anyone else.”
“It’s breathtaking.” She glanced to her feet, where a blanket covered the marble, and a pitcher of wine sat next to a basket of fruit. “Why bring me?”
“Because this is the only place in the kingdom that doesn’t belong to anyone but me,” he said. “And I wanted you to share it with me—to see what it feels like to be free in my city.”
They sat together on the ledge, the wind teasing her hair into soft threads of silver. Jesenia drew her knees closer, tucking her hands beneath her shawl, though she was not cold. Not next to him, at least.
“You bring me to places like this,” she said at last, her voice low, careful, “and I forget that I do not belong.”
Val-Theris turned his head slightly, studying her profile in the moonlight. “You do belong,” he said quietly. “Damn what anyone else may have to say about it. You do belong, Jesenia. Right here. With me. And I do not want to pretend otherwise anymore.”
Her breath caught, subtle but unmistakable. She looked at him then, at the calm gravity in his expression, at the restraint etched into the way he held himself, as though every instinct urged him forward and every oath held him back.
“What are you saying?” she asked.
He hesitated. That alone was answer enough.
Jesenia searched his face, as if looking for command there, or expectation.
She found neither. She reached out before she quite realized she was going to, her fingers brushing his wrist where his sleeve ended.
The contact was light, almost tentative, but she felt the way his breath changed at once.
“I don’t know what tomorrow will bring. I don’t know what our people may ask of us.
And I can’t say what this city will do once it realizes how I truly feel for you.
But I do know this.” He used his thumb and forefinger to lift her chin and leaned in, so that his breath ghosted over her lips.
“I will no longer pretend that what I feel is something smaller than it is for the sake of others. You deserve all of me.”
Slowly, he moved his fingers from her chin to her cheek, then traced his thumb along her lower lip.
“May I?” he asked.
The question undid her more than any boldness could have. Jesenia nodded once, breath unsteady, and leaned into his touch. The space between them dissolved.
His mouth found hers—tentative at first, then deeper, desperate, as though the years he’d spent restrained had finally broken all at once. Her hands rose to his shoulders, her fingers tracing the ridges of his wings, marveling at the warmth beneath the feathers.
But it was when Jesenia’s hand threaded into his hair that he lost himself in her.
The kiss deepened. His restraint shattered at the heat rising beneath their skin, hands wandering in desperation. His mouth traced the line of her jaw, her throat, while she gasped his name against his ear, her fingers clutching the fabric of his tunic as though to anchor herself.
“Tell me to stop,” he whispered raggedly against her skin. “And I will.”
She shook her head, her voice breaking as she pulled him closer. “Don’t you dare.”
And with that, the angel and the saint surrendered at last.
They sank together onto the marble, the cold stone forgotten beneath the press of bodies and breath. Above them, the stars burned like watching eyes, but for once, the heavens were kind to them where the people were not.
Time fractured into softness they had never dared share before. The sound of sighs, the brush of skin against skin, the whispered prayer of her name on his lips.
His hands studied her carefully, tracing the lines of her body with all the care and devotion as if she were born a goddess herself. He moved as if she were something holy—touched as if she was made of all the beauty this world had to give.
When it was over, they lay entwined in silence, the night wrapping them in its vast, forgiving arms. His wing curved protectively around her, sheltering her from the wind and preserving the warmth their bodies had created together.
“What do you see when you look at the stars?” she asked drowsily.
“This,” he murmured. “All of my dreams, even the ones I didn’t know I had, were gifted to me under these very stars. What more beauty could I ask of them?” He looked down at her, tracing the line of her jaw with his thumb. “And what do you see when you look at these same stars?”
“A future where we don’t have to hide.”
He pressed a kiss to her temple. “Then this place will be our secret.”
Jesenia’s eyes drifted shut, her breathing slowing. Val-Theris watched her a long while, the weight of prophecy far from his mind.
“A future where I give you your dreams as you have given me mine,” he murmured into her hair as he held her. “That is what I see when I look at the stars now.”