Chapter 39 Homecoming #2
That night, I creep across the moonlit courtyard toward the training ring.
The moon hangs low, casting an ominous glow over the sand-strewn floor.
My sword—a gift from Keiren—weighs my hands down like grief incarnate, its steel edge flickering in the pale light.
Just three more days until the final Trial.
I step up to the practice dummy and strike, again and again.
Each blow rings out with the thud of metal on wood.
My breath goes ragged as salt stings my tongue and sweat blurs my vision.
Memories coil inside me—my mother’s final gasp, Cassy’s terrified cry, Kat’s broken vows—each one fueling my fury until it burns hotter than a dragon’s breath.
From the torchlit wall, a shadow peels away. Keiren enters the ring, his cloak a midnight wave, blade gleaming like both promise and peril. His dark eyes, fierce and concerned, lock onto mine.
“In the mood to fight, Fire?”
“With you? Always.” My heart blazes.
He inclines his head and raises his blade. I lunge.
Steel sings in a whirlwind of sparks. Parry, riposte, dodge—our swords dance beneath the red moon. His strength presses against mine like the tide against the shore, and for a moment, I forget everything but the rhythm of our clash.
“It’s not your fault,” Keiren says as he smoothly sidesteps a blow.
“Stop saying that!” I cry, swinging at him as hard as I can.
“I will—when you believe it.”
He counters with enough force that my sword nearly flies from my hand. I snarl and overreach, sweeping my leg out in a desperate lunge. Keiren pivots, twists the blade from my wrist, and presses the flat of his blade against my throat.
Our breaths mingle in the cold night air. His arm anchors me. Grief and longing twist through his dark gaze.
“What now, Your Highness?” I dare him. “Will you slay me… or kiss me?”
The moonlight glints across his features, lined with anger, desire, and something achingly human. Slowly, he lowers the blade.
I seize the moment. Sweeping his legs out from under him, I send us both crashing to the sandy ground. We roll until he pins me beneath him, but the victory is mine: My dagger, pulled from my boot, hovers at his throat.
Our chests heave. Our eyes lock. His weight presses into me, solid and warm.
“What now, Fire?” he murmurs, echoing my challenge. “Will you kill me… or kiss me?”
A smile tugs at my lips. “From this angle,” I breathe, arching closer, “killing you does seem tempting.”
A corner of his mouth curves. “If your face were the last thing I saw, your lips the last I tasted, I’d die a happy man.”
Before I can retort, he closes the distance, his mouth claiming mine in a kiss that burns and breaks in equal measure. The dagger slips from my fingers. I melt into him, hands tangling in his hair, body curving against his.
He breaks the kiss first, only to trail more along my jaw and down my throat. I gasp his name.
“Fire,” he murmurs back, his voice raw with desire.
“Keiren…,” I whisper, “my name… my real name… is Selene.”
He freezes, eyes wide with something between awe and reverence.
“Selene,” he breathes, the word a prayer.
He whispers it again, punctuating each iteration with another kiss—first my nose, then each cheek, then my forehead. When his mouth finds mine again, it feels like the world is holding its breath.
Words fail us both beneath the weight of moonlight and memory. His sword clatters to the ground, and he lifts me into his arms. I wrap around him instinctively.
In the ring’s torchlit emptiness, our bodies fit together perfectly. Only the thud of our hearts and the distant cry of a nocturnal bird fill the air.
After what feels like hours of slow kisses and gentle caresses, Keiren rises and offers me his hand.
I take it, still unsteady, and together, we follow a narrow path winding away from the ring.
Torchlight replaces moonlight as he lifts a flame from the wall sconce, guiding us deeper into the garden where the night grows quiet and secretive.
We stop before a low stretch of crimson flowers, their petals dark as spilled wine.
“What are you doing?” I ask as he lowers the torch.
He doesn’t answer.
Fire rushes across the ground in a controlled sweep, devouring the blooms in a heartbeat. I gasp, stepping forward instinctively. “Keiren—!”
“Wait,” he says softly.
The flames die as quickly as they came, leaving behind blackened earth and curling smoke. My chest aches at the sight—until the ground shudders.
Before my eyes, green shoots pierce the ash. Stems rise, unfurling scarlet petals brighter than before. Where there had been a small patch, dozens bloom now—taller, fuller, radiant against the dark soil.
I stare, breathless.
“The phoenix daisy,” he says quietly. “It only blooms after fire. The harsher the burn, the stronger it returns.”
I sink to my knees, reaching out but not quite touching. The petals radiate living warmth beneath my fingers.
“You brought me here to…?” My voice trails off.
“To remind you,” he says, brushing ash from my hand, “that destruction is not always the end. Some things are made to survive it.”
I lean into him, pressing my cheek to his shoulder. I expect more—words, promises, something heavier. Instead, he simply holds me as we walk among the reborn blooms, the scent of smoke and earth mingling in the air.
A fragile peace settles over me.
Beneath a willow’s sweeping boughs, he drapes his cloak around my shoulders and sits beside me. I tell him about home—about Kat, the arrangement, the lies, the promise I couldn’t keep. He listens without interruption, tracing slow, grounding circles along my arm.
When my voice falters, he kisses my forehead.
“You’re not alone, Selene.”
I really look at him then—the man I once thought a monster. The cursed king of a cursed kingdom. My kingdom. Yet here, beneath the willow, he’s only a man. And I’m only a woman, breathing through the ache of loving people I cannot save.
“Selene,” he says, drawing me back. His voice softens. “You’re ready.”
Tears slip free. He gathers me close, and this time, when sleep finds me, I don’t fight it.
As the first light of dawn brushes the horizon, I fall asleep in his arms—my heart lighter, my spirit steadied, ready to face the final Trial.