Two weeks had passed since the meeting in the Solar. Seraphina had stayed inside the palace the entire time. Not because she wanted to, but because the Empress had made it clear she had no other choice. Eleanor didn't phrase it like a demand, but it wasn't a suggestion either. The court was restless, and anything Seraphina did outside those walls would be twisted or targeted.
She didn't argue. The logic was solid. But that didn't make it easier.
Each day dragged a little longer than the one before. The quiet nights felt even worse. The palace was massive, elegant, and heavily guarded, but that didn't stop it from feeling like a well-decorated cage.
The absence of Caelan made it worse.
He had been sent to the northern border. A dangerous monster surge had forced the empire to deploy elite forces, and Caelan had been one of the first called. The location was too remote for any kind of fast communication. Messages could only be sent through secured magical channels once a week, and even that was a risk.
She received his latest letter yesterday. She had already read it three times.
His words weren't flowery or emotional, but they still meant something. The rhythm of his sentences. The way he checked in on her, even from so far away. His letters gave her something to hold onto.
Since his departure, she had seen Thalion more than expected. At first, it was formal. Regular briefings and updates. Security meetings. Walks through the inner gardens to avoid prying eyes. But somewhere in that routine, the tone started to shift.
Their conversations lasted longer. They talked about politics, but also about the past. About the Empress. About loss. Sometimes they didn't talk at all, and that somehow felt just as meaningful.
Now and then, they shared meals in private. They never discussed what that meant.
No one commented on their closeness. Not yet. But she could feel it hanging in the air. And while part of her still guarded herself around him, another part had started to lean in.
The longer she stayed in the palace, the harder it became to pretend there wasn't something building between them.
Her assigned rooms were located in the east wing, far from the court's guest quarters. They were beautiful. Tall windows, curved archways, warm lighting from crystal sconces. The marble floors had been polished to a mirror-like finish, and the walls bore tapestries older than any noble house still standing.
But it wasn't home. Not even close.
That night, restless and tired of pacing, she stepped onto her terrace. The air was warm with no breeze. The lights from the city flickered in the distance like stars.
She didn't hear him approach.
"You're not sleeping."
She turned. Thalion stood just inside the archway, barefoot on the stone floor, wearing a loose white shirt and dark pants. No armor. No crown. Just him.
"Neither are you," she said.
"I never do, not when things are unstable," he replied, stepping closer into the moonlight. "I stay alert when the court starts moving in new directions."
"It's not just shifting," she said. "It's ready to crack."
His tone changed. "And you're right at the center of it."
"Not by choice."
He walked to the railing and leaned beside her. Close, but not enough to touch.
"I was the one who asked the Empress to keep you here," he said after a pause. "I didn't want to risk anything happening to you before we figured out what's really going on."
"I assumed as much." She looked at him. "Thank you."
He gave a small nod. They both stared out at the glowing city lights. The silence wasn't uncomfortable, but it wasn't exactly peaceful either.
He turned to her after a minute, his fingers brushing lightly against her hand on the stone railing.
She didn't move.
"Can I ask you something?" he said.
She nodded once.
"When you said you'd consider the Empress's offer... did you mean it?"
She held his gaze. "I did. But I also said I'm not ready to decide. That hasn't changed."
"I remember," he said. His voice was quieter now. "I just wanted you to know, I meant what I said too. I don't want you beside me because someone expects it. I'd only want you there if you chose it."
His hand slid further over hers. His fingers moved along the inside of her wrist with a slow, deliberate touch.
She didn't pull away. She felt the same energy she had felt during the Solar meeting. Only now it was stronger. Clearer. Not just some unexplained spark. This was real. Present. Her chest tightened. It wasn't just magic. It was connection.
This time, she didn't suppress it. She didn't flinch or retreat. She let herself feel it.
The pull. The warmth. The instinct to move just a little closer.
Thalion stepped forward. His hand rose, brushing gently along her jawline. The gesture was light and careful, as though he didn't want to rush anything.
"If you want me to stop," he said, "say it."
She didn't.
He leaned in. His lips met hers slowly. There was no urgency. No rush. Just intent.
His mouth was warm. Steady. She responded, arms rising to rest around his shoulders. Her fingers settled against the back of his neck. She felt the shape of him, solid and warm beneath the linen shirt.
He kissed her again, deeper this time. A soft sound escaped her throat. It caught her off guard.
His hands moved to her waist. His grip was firm. She let him guide her back until her lower back pressed against the railing. His body followed, closing the space between them completely.
She felt him hard against her. The contact was sudden, but her body reacted before her mind did. Her legs parted slightly. It wasn't deliberate. It was instinct.
The pressure between them sent a sharp jolt through her. Her breath caught.
She shifted forward, chasing the friction. His hips met hers without hesitation.
She clenched the fabric of his shirt in both hands and pulled him in.
The kiss deepened. Slowed. Her heartbeat kicked up as the sensation grew stronger. She could feel how badly he wanted her. He wasn't hiding it. He pressed against her again, hips firm and steady, the weight of him undeniable. Her thighs trembled with the effort to stay grounded.
His mouth stayed on hers, then traced down to her neck.
One of her hands slid into his hair. She gripped tightly as his hips rolled once more.
He exhaled hard. His restraint thinned.
But he stopped.
He pulled back just slightly, enough to put space between them again. His breathing was uneven. So was hers.
His hands stayed on her waist.
He looked at her. His jaw was tense, but his eyes were calm. Focused.
She didn't say anything. Neither did he.
He wanted to go further. She felt it in every part of him. But he didn't.
She had kissed him back. But that wasn't the same as choosing him.
He stepped back slowly. Then he reached down, took her hand, and brought it to his lips.
He pressed a single kiss to her knuckles.
"Good night, Seraphina," he said.
She watched him walk away. She didn't stop him.
The night air felt cooler now. Her body still tingled from his touch, from the magic that had danced between them.
She stayed on the terrace, hands gripping the stone railing, trying to steady her breath.
He hadn't asked her to choose. Not yet. But the question was there, in every glance, every touch.
And when she finally went inside, she carried the echo of his lips on her skin.
Sleep would not come easy.