🌑 WHEN THE SOUL REMEMBERS YOU
📖 Volume I — The First Lifetime
🌒 Chapter 14 — The Garden Beneath the Moon
The Morning After Fire
Riverhold woke beneath smoke and whispers.
The fires had ended before dawn—
but their shadow remained over the capital like ash drifting across water.
Merchants reopened damaged stalls cautiously along the lower districts.
Citizens gathered in crowded tea houses speaking in hushed voices about riots, assassins, and eastern conspiracies.
And above all else—
they spoke about the crown prince.
Some claimed Kaelith had walked directly through burning buildings untouched by flame.
Others insisted the river itself had answered him.
The stories grew larger each hour.
Kaelith hated every one of them.
Morning light spilled pale gold through the windows of the royal council chamber while ministers argued around the long obsidian table.
"The eastern delegation must be confined to palace grounds immediately."
"No—expelling them now will worsen tensions."
"The riots prove the people no longer trust the negotiations."
"The people are frightened, not unreasonable."
Kaelith sat at the head of the chamber listening in cold silence.
Or pretending to.
Because in truth—
his thoughts had betrayed him completely since dawn.
Aryamila.
He had slept perhaps two hours.
And even then, he dreamed of moonlight on the bridge and the softness of her lips against his cheek.
Gods.
This was unbearable.
A councilor's voice dragged him back sharply.
"Your Highness?"
Kaelith looked up.
The elderly minister frowned faintly.
"You have not responded."
Because he had not heard a single word.
Kaelith straightened immediately.
"My apologies."
Across the chamber, General Varos observed him carefully.
Too carefully.
The general had spoken little during the meeting so far.
Which somehow felt more threatening than his usual arguments.
Varos folded his hands behind his back calmly.
"The city believes the eastern kingdoms orchestrated last night's violence."
Kaelith's expression hardened.
"The city believes whatever frightened men repeat loudly enough."
Several councilors shifted uneasily.
Varos remained composed.
"And yet the fear exists."
"Yes," Kaelith answered coldly. "Because someone cultivated it deliberately."
A dangerous silence followed.
The accusation lingered openly now.
Not direct enough to challenge the general formally.
But close.
Varos's eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly.
Then the king finally spoke from the far end of the table.
"Enough."
His tired voice cut through the chamber immediately.
"We will not descend into factional accusations while the capital still burns."
The council quieted reluctantly.
The king turned toward Kaelith.
"The eastern delegation remains under palace protection."
Relief flickered briefly through Kaelith's chest.
Small.
Hidden.
But Varos noticed.
Of course he did.
The general's gaze lingered on the prince for one unreadable moment before shifting away again.
That unsettled Kaelith more than open hostility would have.
The meeting continued another hour.
Trade routes.
Curfews.
Military patrol expansions.
Yet beneath every discussion lingered the same unspoken truth:
Riverhold stood dangerously close to fracture.
By the time the council finally adjourned, Kaelith felt exhausted.
He exited into the upper palace corridor while servants hurried between wings carrying reports and sealed letters.
The palace itself felt tense.
Watching.
Listening.
As though every noble inside Riverhold had suddenly remembered the eastern princess existed.
Kaelith had almost reached the western staircase when a familiar voice stopped him.
"You look terrible."
He turned instantly.
Aryamila stood near the sunlight archway overlooking the palace gardens.
And gods—
that did not help his concentration at all.
She wore pale silver-blue today instead of ceremonial eastern silks.
Simpler.
Softer.
Her dark hair remained partially braided from the previous evening, though several loose strands framed her face in the morning light.
Kaelith realized too late he had stared several seconds without answering.
Aryamila's lips curved slightly.
"That bad?"
He recovered slowly.
"You are very rude for a diplomatic guest."
"And you avoided my question."
Kaelith exhaled quietly.
"I slept poorly."
"That tends to happen after cities catch fire."
Her expression softened immediately afterward.
"And after nearly collapsing inside burning warehouses."
Kaelith leaned lightly against the stone arch beside her.
"I survived."
"Yes," she said carefully. "That appears to be your favorite argument."
He almost smiled.
Almost.
The morning breeze drifted through the garden arches carrying the scent of wet roses from below.
For one brief moment—
the palace felt peaceful again.
Aryamila studied him quietly.
Then lowered her voice slightly.
"The court is watching us now."
Not accusation.
Warning.
Kaelith looked toward the distant corridors.
Several servants immediately pretended not to observe them.
Too late.
"They were already watching."
"That was before."
She hesitated briefly.
"Now they suspect."
Suspect.
Not merely political alliance anymore.
Something personal.
Kaelith looked back toward her slowly.
"And are they wrong?"
Aryamila's breath caught softly.
The question settled between them like dangerous warmth.
Neither looked away.
Then footsteps echoed sharply from the upper corridor.
The moment broke instantly.
Lady Seraphine approached with two attendants following behind her.
Elegant.
Poised.
And visibly displeased the moment she noticed how closely Kaelith and Aryamila stood together.
Kaelith straightened immediately.
Seraphine bowed gracefully.
"Your Highness."
Then toward Aryamila:
"Princess."
Every syllable perfectly polite.
Which somehow felt worse.
Aryamila smiled with equal diplomacy.
"Lady Seraphine."
Tension threaded invisibly through the archway.
Seraphine's gaze briefly settled upon the mantle clasp still hanging from Aryamila's shoulder.
Kaelith's mantle.
Ah.
That explained the sharpened silence.
Seraphine looked back toward the prince carefully.
"The king requests your presence in the western audience hall."
Kaelith frowned slightly.
"Now?"
"Yes."
A pause.
"He seemed… concerned."
That immediately shifted Kaelith's attention.
The king rarely summoned anyone personally during unstable court sessions unless the matter was serious.
He pushed away from the archway.
"I'll go immediately."
Seraphine stepped aside gracefully.
But before Kaelith could leave—
Aryamila spoke softly behind him.
"Will I see you later?"
The question was simple.
Yet the entire corridor seemed to go still around it.
Seraphine noticed.
So did the servants.
Kaelith turned back toward Aryamila.
And forgot every court rule in existence for one dangerous second.
Because she looked genuinely uncertain asking it.
As though she was no longer sure he would come back to her once politics reclaimed him.
His answer came quieter than intended.
"Yes."
The single word warmed her face immediately.
And Kaelith knew then—
completely, hopelessly—
that he would spend the rest of this war trying to protect that smile.
The Princess in the Rose Garden
Kaelith found his father waiting alone inside the western audience hall.
That alone unsettled him immediately.
The chamber was usually crowded with ministers, military advisors, or petitioners from the lower city.
Today—
silence.
Only morning light spilling through high stained-glass windows and the faint scent of burning cedar from the wall braziers.
The king stood beside the balcony overlooking Riverhold.
His hands clasped behind his back.
He looked older this morning.
Not weak.
Just tired in the way rulers became tired when kingdoms began slipping beyond control.
Kaelith bowed briefly.
"You wished to see me."
The king did not turn immediately.
Instead, he watched the city below for several moments before speaking.
"The eastern district spent the entire night rebuilding damaged homes."
Kaelith remained silent.
"The southern district spent the entire night blaming them for the fires."
A bitter truth.
The king finally looked toward his son.
"And somewhere between those two realities, Riverhold is beginning to fracture."
Kaelith stepped closer slowly.
"Elric confirmed the riots were planned."
"I know."
That stopped him.
The king's expression darkened faintly.
"I received reports before dawn."
Kaelith frowned.
"Then why has Varos not been arrested?"
A humorless smile touched the king's mouth.
"Because suspicion is not proof."
Frustration sharpened inside Kaelith instantly.
"He is manipulating the court openly now."
"Yes."
"And you still allow him command of the military."
The king's gaze hardened slightly.
"Because removing the most powerful general in the kingdom without undeniable evidence could divide the army overnight."
Silence.
Kaelith hated that his father was right.
Varos had spent years building loyalty among military houses and border commanders.
If the king moved too soon—
Riverhold could collapse from inside before any war even began.
The king sighed quietly.
"You think leadership means acting quickly."
Kaelith met his gaze.
"And you think it means waiting too long."
For a moment the old tension between father and son returned sharply.
Not hatred.
Grief.
Two men trying to save the same kingdom through different instincts.
The king looked away first.
Then, unexpectedly, his expression softened.
"She matters to you."
Kaelith froze.
The words landed too directly to avoid.
His father continued calmly:
"The eastern princess."
Kaelith forced himself steady.
"She is central to the negotiations."
The king gave him a deeply unimpressed look.
"You inherited your mother's terrible ability to lie only when emotions are involved."
Gods.
Kaelith looked toward the balcony arches instead.
Because denial suddenly felt pointless.
The king watched him carefully for several long moments.
Then quietly asked:
"How serious is this?"
Kaelith should have answered cautiously.
Should have spoken about diplomacy.
Alliance.
Political necessity.
Instead he heard himself say:
"I don't know how it happened."
The honesty surprised both of them.
The king's face gentled slightly with something dangerously close to sympathy.
"That serious, then."
Kaelith dragged one hand through his dark hair in frustration.
"She makes me forget myself."
A soft laugh escaped the king before he could stop it.
Kaelith blinked in surprise.
"When your mother first arrived in Riverhold," the king said quietly, "I walked directly into a palace fountain while staring at her."
Kaelith stared.
"You?"
"Yes, thank you for your judgment."
The image was so absurd Kaelith almost smiled.
Almost.
The king's expression softened further at the reaction.
"For the first time in months," he murmured, "you look your age again."
The words struck unexpectedly deep.
Kaelith looked away.
Because he suddenly understood what his father truly meant.
Aryamila had brought life back into parts of him long buried beneath duty.
That frightened him.
The king's voice turned quieter.
"Love is dangerous for rulers."
Kaelith looked back sharply.
Not warning.
Experience.
The king walked slowly toward the balcony rail.
"Not because it weakens us."
Sunlight illuminated drifting smoke above the city below.
"But because it gives our enemies something they can wound."
The truth settled heavily between them.
Aryamila was no longer merely a princess from another kingdom.
She had become Kaelith's vulnerability.
And if Varos discovered how deeply the prince cared—
he would use it.
Kaelith already knew that.
Still—
the knowledge changed nothing.
Because loving her no longer felt optional.
A servant entered quietly several moments later carrying new reports from the lower city.
The king accepted them with visible exhaustion.
"You should go."
Kaelith bowed slightly.
But before leaving—
the king spoke once more.
"Kaelith."
He turned.
The older man studied him carefully.
"If you truly care for her…"
A pause.
"…then protect her from this court before it teaches her what kingdoms do to love."
The words followed Kaelith long after he left the audience hall.
By midday, the palace gardens had become the only place in Riverhold still touched by peace.
The storm had washed the roses clean.
Sunlight spilled through flowering archways while fountains shimmered quietly beneath pale blue skies.
Aryamila sat beneath a climbing ivy trellis near the southern pond reading reports from the eastern delegation.
Or trying to.
In truth—
she had reread the same paragraph six times without understanding a single word.
Because she kept remembering his face in the corridor that morning.
The way he answered yes as though the thought of not seeing her again unsettled him too.
Gods.
This was becoming dangerous.
A shadow crossed the garden path.
Aryamila looked up immediately.
And there he was.
Kaelith descended the marble garden steps dressed in dark royal blue, sunlight catching against the silver clasp at his collar.
The sight of him alone was becoming unfair.
Aryamila lowered her report slowly.
"You came back."
Kaelith's expression softened almost imperceptibly at the words.
"I said I would."
He moved beneath the ivy shade beside her.
And for one suspended moment—
neither spoke.
Because somehow the simple act of seeing each other again already felt like relief.
The Things They Did Not Say
The garden smelled of roses warmed beneath afternoon sunlight.
A fountain murmured softly nearby while pale petals drifted across the pond with the breeze.
For the first time since the riots—
Riverhold almost felt gentle again.
Kaelith sat across from Aryamila beneath the ivy trellis, one arm resting lightly against the stone bench behind him.
And despite everything waiting beyond the garden walls—
court tensions,
political conspiracies,
the possibility of war—
he could think only one absurd thing.
She looked beautiful in sunlight.
Not the ceremonial beauty expected of princesses.
Not polished court perfection.
Real beauty.
The kind that revealed itself slowly in expressions and quiet moments.
Aryamila noticed him staring again over the edge of her report.
"You're doing it once more."
Kaelith did not even pretend innocence anymore.
"I'm beginning to think you enjoy mentioning it."
"That depends."
"On what?"
"Whether it makes you stop."
"It does not."
Her lips twitched immediately.
Gods.
That tiny smile alone could ruin him.
Aryamila folded the unread reports beside her at last.
"I should probably be working."
"And yet you haven't turned a page in several minutes."
She narrowed her eyes faintly.
"You noticed that too?"
"I notice many things."
"That sounds ominous."
"It was intended to."
The warmth between them settled naturally now.
No longer uncertain.
No longer fragile.
And perhaps that frightened Aryamila most of all.
Because it felt effortless.
As though somehow they had already learned how to exist beside one another.
Kaelith glanced toward the reports stacked beside her.
"Bad news?"
"Mostly frightened nobles writing frightened letters to other frightened nobles."
"That does sound exhausting."
"One eastern minister suggested I return home immediately before Riverhold becomes dangerous."
Kaelith's expression changed instantly.
Subtle.
But unmistakable.
Aryamila noticed at once.
"You dislike that idea."
"No."
A pause.
"I hate it."
The honesty warmed her far too quickly.
Kaelith looked toward the pond instead.
"The roads are unstable now. Leaving the capital could place you directly in danger."
Aryamila tilted her head slightly.
"That sounded suspiciously like concern."
"It was political concern."
"Of course."
He almost smiled again.
Almost.
The sunlight filtering through ivy leaves painted shifting shadows across his face.
Aryamila watched him quietly for a long moment before speaking again.
"You look less tired here."
Kaelith leaned back slightly against the bench.
"This garden belonged to my mother."
Aryamila's expression softened immediately.
"She planted the white roses herself."
He gestured toward the climbing blooms surrounding the pond.
"She claimed southern winters were too cold and needed softer colors."
Aryamila touched one of the petals gently beside her.
"They're beautiful."
"She bullied half the palace gardeners into agreeing."
That earned a quiet laugh from her.
Kaelith's chest tightened painfully at the sound.
Because he was becoming addicted to making her laugh.
Aryamila looked around the secluded garden carefully.
"No wonder you hide here."
"I do not hide."
"You disappear mysteriously into private gardens whenever court life becomes unbearable."
"That is refined royal strategy."
"That is hiding with flowers."
Kaelith finally laughed properly.
The sound startled birds from nearby ivy branches.
Aryamila stared at him openly now.
Not teasing anymore.
Simply watching.
Kaelith noticed after several moments.
"What?"
Her gaze softened slightly.
"You really are different here."
The words quieted him immediately.
Different.
Not crown prince.
Not future king.
Just Kaelith.
He looked toward the pond again.
"There are days I think the palace only remembers the crown."
Aryamila listened silently.
"Not the person wearing it."
The vulnerability in his voice made something ache inside her chest.
Carefully, she set the reports aside completely.
Then moved slightly closer along the stone bench.
Not enough to scandalize anyone.
Enough.
"The eastern court is similar," she admitted softly.
Kaelith glanced toward her.
"My tutors used to tell me princesses belonged to diplomacy before they belonged to themselves."
A bitter smile touched her lips.
"I was fourteen when the first marriage proposal arrived from the western coast."
Kaelith frowned faintly.
"You were fourteen."
"Yes."
"That man was nearly fifty."
Kaelith's expression darkened instantly.
Aryamila blinked in surprise at the visible irritation.
"He eventually married someone else," she added quickly.
"Good."
The answer came far too sharply.
Aryamila stared at him.
Then suddenly laughed under her breath.
"You sound jealous of a man you have never met."
Kaelith realized his mistake immediately.
"I am judging his terrible timing."
"Mm."
"That is a perfectly reasonable diplomatic position."
"Mm."
Gods.
She was enjoying this far too much.
The breeze shifted softly through the roses around them.
Then Aryamila asked quietly:
"Have there been many proposals for you?"
Kaelith leaned his head back against the stone arch.
"Too many."
"And?"
"And what?"
"Did you like any of them?"
The question sounded casual.
It was not.
Kaelith turned toward her slowly.
The sunlight caught gold in her dark eyes.
"No."
Her heartbeat betrayed her relief instantly.
Kaelith noticed.
Of course he noticed.
His voice lowered slightly.
"Should I ask the same question?"
Aryamila looked away toward the pond.
"That would depend."
"On what?"
"Whether you plan to become insufferably arrogant if I answer honestly."
Kaelith shifted closer now too.
Close enough that their shoulders nearly touched.
"I make no promises."
Aryamila swallowed once before meeting his gaze again.
"No," she admitted softly.
"No one?"
"No one."
The quiet confession settled between them like sunlight.
Warm.
Dangerous.
Because suddenly neither of them could pretend this was one-sided anymore.
The world beyond the garden still threatened to fall apart.
War still waited beyond the palace walls.
But beneath the ivy shade and drifting rose petals—
a prince and princess were beginning to fall hopelessly in love.
A Dangerous Kind of Happiness
For a long while after their confessions—
neither spoke.
The silence between them no longer felt uncertain.
It felt full.
Heavy with things both understood now without needing to say aloud.
No one else.
The realization lingered warmly beneath Aryamila's ribs.
Kaelith had never cared for another woman.
Not truly.
And somehow that mattered more than it should have.
Across the pond, white swans drifted lazily through reflected sunlight while palace gardeners trimmed roses along the lower paths.
The ordinary beauty of the afternoon felt strangely intimate.
As though the world itself had softened around them for a little while.
Kaelith broke the silence first.
"You are smiling again."
Aryamila immediately looked away.
"I am not."
"You are."
"That sounds like a false accusation."
"It sounds like evidence."
She shook her head lightly.
"You become unbearable when pleased with yourself."
"And yet you continue speaking to me."
"Unfortunately."
Kaelith smiled.
Not the controlled diplomatic smile he used during court sessions.
A real one.
The kind that transformed his entire face.
Aryamila noticed too intensely and quickly looked toward the fountain again before he caught her staring.
Too late.
"You looked away very quickly just now."
"I was admiring the garden."
"The garden does not blush when observed."
Her eyes widened slightly.
Then narrowed.
"You are impossible."
"I've heard that before."
"Frequently, I imagine."
"Mostly from ministers."
That earned another laugh from her.
Gods.
Kaelith would willingly start wars for that sound.
No.
Absolutely not the correct thought.
He rubbed one hand across his jaw as if physically removing the idea from his mind.
Aryamila watched him curiously.
"What was that expression?"
"Regret."
"About what?"
"Several things."
"Such as?"
"You asking too many questions."
She smiled triumphantly.
"So there were several things."
Kaelith realized too late he had trapped himself.
Aryamila looked entirely too pleased about it.
The afternoon sunlight shifted gradually warmer through the ivy canopy above them.
Neither seemed interested in leaving.
Which itself felt dangerous.
Because every additional moment together deepened this impossible thing between them.
Kaelith looked toward the palace towers visible above the roses.
"The court will begin inventing stories soon."
"They already have."
His gaze returned to her sharply.
"You've heard them?"
Aryamila nodded once.
"A servant this morning informed another servant that I apparently bewitched the crown prince beside the river."
Kaelith blinked.
"Bewitched."
"Yes."
"How dramatic."
"Riverhold appears committed to its poetry."
He laughed softly again.
Then his expression gentled.
"I'm sorry."
The sincerity in his voice surprised her.
"For what?"
"For dragging you into this."
Aryamila stared at him quietly.
"You think I regret being here?"
"Aryamila—"
"You didn't create the unrest in this kingdom."
"No," he admitted darkly. "But my family rules it."
The sadness beneath the words settled heavily between them.
Aryamila understood suddenly—
Kaelith carried responsibility for everything around him.
Every riot.
Every frightened citizen.
Every political fracture.
Even things beyond his control became personal burdens.
Carefully—
very carefully—
she reached across the stone bench and touched his hand.
Just lightly.
Yet Kaelith went completely still beneath the contact.
"You cannot bleed for an entire kingdom alone," she said softly.
The warmth of her fingers against his nearly destroyed his ability to think.
No one touched him gently anymore.
Not in court.
Not in politics.
Not in the life shaped around his crown.
But Aryamila always touched him like he was human first.
He looked down at their hands briefly.
Then slowly turned his palm upward beneath hers.
Their fingers intertwined naturally.
As though they had done this before.
No.
Not before.
Never before.
And perhaps that made it even more dangerous.
Aryamila's breath caught softly at the feeling of his hand holding hers fully now.
Warm.
Steady.
Real.
Neither spoke.
The world beyond the garden faded again.
Kaelith traced his thumb lightly across the side of her hand without realizing he was doing it.
Aryamila nearly forgot how breathing worked.
Gods.
This was becoming impossible.
A distant palace bell echoed across the gardens.
Late afternoon already.
Still neither moved apart.
Finally Kaelith spoke quietly.
"When this is over…"
He stopped.
Because he did not know how to finish the sentence safely.
When this is over—
what?
Would peace even survive?
Would their kingdoms?
Would this?
Aryamila watched him carefully.
"When what is over?"
Kaelith looked toward the city walls beyond the gardens.
"The unrest."
His voice lowered.
"The court suspicion. The negotiations. All of it."
A long pause.
Then, more quietly still:
"What happens to us?"
There it was.
The question both had been avoiding.
Not whether they cared for one another anymore.
That answer already existed.
The real question was whether love could survive politics powerful enough to destroy kingdoms.
Aryamila's fingers tightened slightly around his.
"I don't know."
Honest.
Painfully honest.
Kaelith nodded faintly.
Because neither of them did.
Yet even now—
with uncertainty standing between them—
neither let go.
The Dance They Should Not Have Shared
The sun had begun sinking toward the western towers by the time they finally left the garden.
Golden light stretched across Riverhold Palace, turning marble corridors amber and soft with evening glow.
Kaelith and Aryamila walked slowly beneath the covered archways overlooking the lower courtyards.
Still too close.
Still holding a silence full of unfinished thoughts.
Neither had answered his question completely.
What happens to us?
Because neither of them knew how.
A prince and a foreign princess did not belong to themselves.
They belonged to treaties.
Borders.
Kingdoms.
Yet every instinct inside Aryamila rebelled against that truth whenever Kaelith looked at her the way he did now.
As though she mattered more than duty.
A servant hurried toward them from the upper hall and bowed deeply.
"Your Highness."
Kaelith straightened slightly.
"The king requests your presence at tonight's royal gathering."
His expression dimmed immediately.
Aryamila noticed.
"That bad?"
"The western ministers arrived early this afternoon."
"That sounds like a yes."
Kaelith sighed quietly.
"The court plans to pretend Riverhold is not slowly collapsing by hosting music and wine."
Aryamila smiled faintly.
"A very royal solution."
"The most royal."
The servant hesitated awkwardly before adding:
"The eastern delegation has also been invited, Princess."
Of course they had.
Nothing soothed political unrest like forcing diplomats to smile publicly beside one another.
Aryamila thanked the servant gently before he departed down the corridor.
Then she looked toward Kaelith.
"You hate these gatherings."
"I would rather face another warehouse fire."
"That seems dramatic."
"It is perfectly accurate."
She laughed softly again.
Gods.
He loved that sound too much already.
They reached the eastern staircase where the palace corridors divided toward their separate chambers.
This time the pause between them came naturally.
Reluctantly.
Kaelith glanced toward the fading sunlight spilling through the high windows.
"You should rest before tonight."
Aryamila tilted her head slightly.
"Was that concern again?"
"It was survival instinct."
"For who?"
He met her gaze quietly.
"Myself."
The warmth that crossed her face nearly undid him.
Kaelith took one slow step closer before caution returned.
Barely enough distance remained between them now for propriety.
Aryamila's pulse visibly quickened beneath her throat.
Kaelith noticed immediately.
Gods help him.
He wanted to touch her again.
Not carefully this time.
Not politely.
Dangerous thought.
Very dangerous.
Aryamila lowered her voice softly.
"You're staring again."
His answer came rougher than intended.
"You make it difficult not to."
The breath caught in her chest audibly this time.
Neither moved.
The corridor around them had gone completely quiet.
Kaelith's gaze dropped briefly toward her lips before he forced himself back under control.
Barely.
Then footsteps echoed distantly from the lower stairwell.
Reality returned sharply.
Kaelith stepped back first.
A mistake.
Necessary.
"I'll see you tonight."
Aryamila nodded slowly.
"Yes."
But the way she looked at him afterward made the single word feel far more intimate than it should have.
That evening, Riverhold Palace glowed like fire beneath the night sky.
Crystal chandeliers illuminated the grand western ballroom while musicians played along the marble balconies above.
Nobles in silver, sapphire, and black filled the hall with carefully practiced laughter.
To outsiders—
the kingdom looked magnificent.
Stable.
Untouched by unrest.
A lie.
Kaelith stood near the western archway enduring conversations with ministers he barely tolerated.
Trade agreements.
Border security.
Military positioning.
Every discussion hidden beneath polished smiles and wine glasses.
Exhausting.
He answered automatically while scanning the ballroom for one person.
Then finally—
he saw her.
Aryamila descended the eastern staircase beside members of her delegation.
And Kaelith forgot the rest of the room existed.
Gods.
She wore deep midnight blue tonight threaded with silver embroidery that caught the chandelier light like stars across water.
Her dark hair fell loosely over one shoulder adorned only with delicate moonstone pins.
Elegant.
Graceful.
Beautiful enough to stop his heartbeat entirely.
Several nearby nobles noticed the prince staring immediately.
Too openly.
Kaelith did not care.
Aryamila spotted him moments later across the crowded ballroom.
And the expression that softened across her face when their eyes met nearly destroyed whatever composure he still possessed.
She looked relieved to see him.
Happy.
The realization warmed him with terrifying force.
One of the western duchesses stepped closer beside Kaelith.
"You seem distracted tonight, Your Highness."
He answered without taking his eyes off Aryamila.
"Very."
Across the ballroom, Aryamila smiled faintly as if she somehow heard the response anyway.
Then the musicians shifted into a slower orchestral piece.
Couples began moving toward the center floor.
Kaelith should have remained where he was.
He knew that.
Every noble house already watched them carefully.
One dance together would ignite rumors across the entire court by morning.
Still—
his feet were already moving before reason could intervene.
Aryamila saw him crossing the ballroom toward her.
Her breathing changed instantly.
Kaelith stopped before her beneath the chandelier light.
The entire room seemed to notice at once.
Neither of them cared enough to stop.
He bowed slightly.
Not formal.
Personal.
"Princess Aryamila."
Her pulse fluttered visibly again.
"Your Highness."
Kaelith held out his hand quietly.
"Dance with me."
Not a request.
Not quite an order either.
Something far more dangerous.
Aryamila looked at his hand for one suspended heartbeat.
Then slowly placed hers in it.
And somewhere across the ballroom—
half the royal court realized the crown prince of Riverhold was already falling hopelessly in love.
The Way He Looked at Her
The ballroom seemed to fall silent around them.
Not truly silent.
The musicians still played.
Glasses still clinked softly beneath crystal chandeliers.
Nobles still whispered behind jeweled fans and polished smiles.
Yet for Aryamila—
everything blurred the moment Kaelith's hand closed around hers.
Warm.
Steady.
Dangerously familiar already.
He guided her toward the center of the ballroom floor with calm royal grace.
As though this meant nothing.
As though he had not just handed the entire court a scandal wrapped in silk and moonlight.
Aryamila leaned closer slightly as they reached the dancers.
"You realize everyone is staring at us."
Kaelith's hand settled carefully at her waist.
"I was hoping they might develop better manners."
The touch sent warmth through her instantly.
Gods.
This was unfair.
The music slowed around them into something soft and hauntingly elegant.
Kaelith guided her into the first turn of the dance effortlessly.
Aryamila blinked in surprise.
"You dance well."
"That sounded reluctant."
"I'm disappointed."
"In what?"
"I was hoping you would step on my feet at least once."
Kaelith looked genuinely offended.
"I am the crown prince of Riverhold."
"That does not protect you from clumsiness."
"It should."
Aryamila laughed quietly.
Several nearby nobles immediately glanced toward them again.
Noticing.
Always noticing.
But Kaelith barely spared the court another thought.
Because Aryamila kept looking at him like that.
Like she saw the man beneath the crown.
The dance carried them slowly across the marble floor beneath rivers of golden chandelier light.
Her hand rested lightly against his shoulder.
His gloved fingers remained warm against the small of her back.
Too close.
Not close enough.
Dangerous thought.
Very dangerous thought.
Kaelith lowered his voice slightly.
"You're nervous."
Aryamila met his gaze steadily.
"You invited me into the center of a royal scandal."
"I invited you to dance."
"In front of every powerful family in the south."
"That part was unfortunate timing."
She smiled despite herself.
Gods.
He had become impossible to resist when he looked amused.
The orchestra swelled softly around them.
Kaelith guided her through another turn.
This time her body moved closer against his for one brief suspended moment before the dance separated them again.
Both felt it instantly.
Aryamila's breath caught.
Kaelith's composure nearly fractured entirely.
The prince looked away briefly toward the musicians as though recovering from battle.
Aryamila noticed immediately.
"You seem troubled, Your Highness."
"You moved closer."
"That tends to happen during dancing."
"You should stop doing it."
"Why?"
Because I already want you too much.
But he could not say that aloud in the middle of the royal ballroom.
So instead:
"It distracts me."
Aryamila's cheeks warmed beautifully beneath the chandelier light.
And Kaelith realized with sudden dangerous clarity—
she liked affecting him this way.
The thought nearly ruined him.
At the edge of the ballroom, Lady Seraphine watched them in silence beside a cluster of western nobles.
Her expression remained composed.
But the tightness around her eyes betrayed disappointment she was too proud to voice.
Nearby ministers whispered behind jeweled cups.
The crown prince had danced before.
Of course he had.
But never like this.
Never looking at someone as though the entire room disappeared around her.
And Kaelith truly was looking at Aryamila that way now.
Unaware.
Unprotected.
Hopelessly.
The dance slowed further into its final movement.
Aryamila suddenly became painfully aware of how little distance remained between them.
Kaelith's thumb moved unconsciously against the fabric at her waist.
The smallest motion.
Yet it sent heat racing through her chest.
His gaze dropped briefly toward her lips again.
Not for the first time.
Not the last either.
Aryamila's pulse fluttered wildly beneath her throat.
The music faded softly toward its ending.
Neither moved apart immediately.
A mistake.
Several nobles openly stared now.
Still—
for one reckless heartbeat—
Kaelith did not care.
Aryamila looked up at him quietly beneath the chandelier light.
And softly—
almost teasingly—
she whispered:
"You're staring again."
Kaelith answered before caution could stop him.
"You're beautiful."
The world stopped.
Not metaphorically.
Actually stopped.
Aryamila forgot how to breathe.
Because his voice held no performance.
No polished flirtation.
Only truth.
Raw and devastatingly sincere.
Kaelith seemed to realize too late what he had admitted aloud.
But instead of retreating—
he held her gaze.
And somehow that was even worse.
The music ended.
Applause rose lightly through the ballroom around them.
Neither heard it.
Because for one suspended moment beneath crystal light and royal whispers—
a prince and a princess stood at the beginning of a love powerful enough to ruin them both.
The Balcony Beyond the Music
Applause faded gradually through the ballroom.
Couples separated.
Musicians prepared for the next arrangement.
Conversation resumed in elegant waves beneath the chandeliers.
Yet Kaelith and Aryamila remained standing far too close in the center of the floor.
Still caught inside the aftermath of his words.
You're beautiful.
Gods.
Kaelith almost never lost control of his speech.
Years of court training had made restraint instinctive.
But around her—
every carefully built wall inside him kept failing.
Aryamila's cheeks still carried faint warmth beneath the ballroom light.
The honesty in his voice had undone her completely.
Not because he called her beautiful.
Many men had said that before.
But none had looked at her as though the truth surprised even them.
Kaelith finally stepped back slightly.
Necessary.
Difficult.
He bowed with formal precision this time.
"Thank you for the dance, Princess."
Aryamila recognized the return of royal composure immediately.
The prince was retreating behind duty again.
And strangely—
she disliked it.
Still, she curtsied gracefully.
"Thank you for the scandal, Your Highness."
A flicker of amusement touched his eyes despite himself.
Then a western duke approached Kaelith from the edge of the ballroom with obvious political urgency.
Perfect timing.
Kaelith visibly resisted the urge to look irritated.
Aryamila noticed and nearly smiled.
The duke bowed quickly.
"Your Highness, the border ministers request a moment regarding the eastern patrol routes."
Of course they did.
Kaelith glanced toward Aryamila briefly.
A silent apology.
She answered with the smallest reassuring nod.
Go.
Duty first.
The prince straightened reluctantly.
"I won't be long."
The fact that he said it aloud nearly made nearby nobles choke on their wine.
Aryamila noticed immediately.
Gods.
The court truly was watching everything now.
Kaelith disappeared reluctantly into a gathering of ministers near the western pillars.
Almost instantly, conversation swallowed him.
Maps.
Reports.
Military concerns.
Yet despite the discussion surrounding him—
his eyes kept drifting across the ballroom toward Aryamila.
Always returning to her.
The eastern princess moved toward the balcony arches overlooking the moonlit gardens beyond the hall.
She needed air.
Needed distance from the heat gathering beneath her skin every time Kaelith looked at her that way.
The cool night breeze outside felt like relief against her flushed cheeks.
Moonlight silvered the palace balconies and the distant river beyond the city walls.
Below, Riverhold glowed softly beneath lantern-lit streets recovering from unrest.
Aryamila rested her hands lightly against the marble railing.
And immediately thought of him again.
Hopeless.
Absolutely hopeless.
The ballroom doors opened quietly behind her several moments later.
She knew who it was before turning.
Kaelith stepped onto the balcony alone.
Still dressed in dark royal blue.
Still unfairly beautiful beneath moonlight.
Aryamila smiled faintly.
"You escaped quickly."
"Border ministers become less interesting after the first twenty threats of war."
"That sounds exhausting."
"It was."
He moved beside her at the balcony railing.
Close enough that their sleeves brushed lightly in the night wind.
Neither commented on it.
Below them, fountains shimmered in the palace gardens while distant music drifted softly through the open ballroom windows behind them.
For a while neither spoke.
The silence felt peaceful.
Comfortable.
Then Kaelith exhaled quietly.
"I should not have said that."
Aryamila looked toward him slowly.
"You regret it?"
His answer came instantly.
"No."
The honesty sent warmth through her chest again.
Kaelith stared out toward the city lights.
"But the court heard me."
"And?"
He turned toward her fully now.
"And loving the wrong person has destroyed kingdoms before."
The words settled heavily between them.
Not dramatic.
True.
Aryamila looked back toward the moonlit river beyond the palace.
"Am I the wrong person?"
Kaelith went very still.
Gods.
How was he supposed to answer that?
Because politically—
yes.
An eastern princess during rising unrest was the worst possible person for the crown prince to love.
Yet personally—
she felt terrifyingly right.
Kaelith's voice lowered softly.
"You are the person I cannot stop thinking about."
Aryamila's heartbeat stumbled painfully.
He continued before caution could silence him again.
"I wake up wondering whether you slept safely."
The night breeze shifted softly around them.
"I walk into council meetings searching for you first."
Aryamila forgot the ballroom existed.
Forgot the palace.
Forgot everything except the prince standing beside her speaking like a man losing a battle against his own heart.
Kaelith looked away briefly toward the city lights.
"And when you smile at me," he admitted quietly, "I forget every reasonable decision I have ever made."
The confession shattered something inside her completely.
Because no one had ever spoken to her like this.
Not as a princess.
Not as a diplomatic asset.
As a woman.
As someone loved.
Aryamila stepped closer without realizing she moved.
Kaelith's breath caught immediately.
Moonlight silvered the edges of her dark hair while music drifted softly behind them from the ballroom.
"You make me forget things too," she whispered.
His gaze lifted to hers slowly.
"What things?"
Aryamila's pulse fluttered wildly beneath his attention.
"Borders."
One word.
Yet it nearly undid him completely.
Because that was the tragedy of it.
Their kingdoms had spent generations teaching people to fear one another.
Yet somehow—
against every political expectation—
a southern prince and an eastern princess had begun falling in love beneath moonlight and music anyway.
The Space Between Them
The music from the ballroom drifted softly through the open balcony doors behind them.
Elegant.
Distant.
Almost unreal compared to the silence now standing between Kaelith and Aryamila.
Neither moved away.
Moonlight silvered the marble balcony while the river shimmered far beyond the palace gardens.
Kaelith still looked at her as though she had said something impossible.
Borders.
One word—
yet it carried the weight of entire kingdoms.
Aryamila suddenly became very aware of how close they stood.
Close enough to hear each other breathe.
Close enough that if she lifted her hand—
she could touch his face.
Dangerous thought.
Very dangerous.
Kaelith's voice lowered carefully.
"You should not say things like that to me."
Aryamila tilted her head slightly.
"Why?"
Because I already want too much from you.
But he answered differently.
"Because I might start believing impossible things."
Her heartbeat quickened again.
The honesty in him always arrived unexpectedly.
Like cracks appearing in carefully carved stone.
Aryamila looked toward the moonlit gardens below.
"When I was younger," she said softly, "I thought princes would be easier to understand."
Kaelith leaned one arm against the balcony railing beside her.
"That was your first mistake."
"You are very complicated."
"I am deeply simple."
She laughed quietly under her breath.
"There is nothing simple about you."
The words settled gently between them.
Kaelith studied her profile in the moonlight.
The soft curve of her mouth.
The shadows beneath her lashes.
The way the night breeze moved strands of dark hair across her cheek.
Gods.
He was losing this battle completely.
Inside the ballroom, nobles continued dancing beneath gold chandeliers while politics quietly sharpened around them.
Yet out here—
for a few stolen moments—
they could almost pretend they belonged only to themselves.
Almost.
Aryamila finally looked back toward him.
"You've been quiet."
Kaelith smiled faintly.
"That is because I am thinking."
"That sounds dangerous."
"It usually becomes dangerous around you."
The warmth returning to her face nearly undid his remaining restraint.
He looked away briefly toward the river.
Necessary.
Otherwise he might actually kiss her.
And if that happened—
the entire court would know before midnight.
Aryamila watched him carefully now.
Then softly asked:
"What are you afraid of?"
The question caught him off guard.
Not war.
Not politics.
Him.
Kaelith exhaled slowly through his nose.
"You ask difficult questions."
"You avoid easy ones."
Fair.
He considered lying.
Instead—
quietly—
he answered truthfully.
"I'm afraid this kingdom will force us to become enemies."
The words hurt more aloud.
Aryamila's expression gentled immediately.
"Kaelith—"
"My council already blames the east for the riots."
His voice lowered further.
"Varos wants conflict. The nobles want someone to fear. And every day this unrest grows worse."
Moonlight flickered across the balcony marble around them.
Kaelith looked directly at her now.
"And somehow in the middle of all of that…"
A pause.
"…I met you."
Aryamila's chest tightened painfully.
Because the tragedy of it existed already.
Not in lost lifetimes.
Not destiny.
Simply timing.
Two people meeting at the worst possible moment and caring anyway.
She stepped closer before thinking.
This time neither pretended not to notice.
Kaelith's pulse visibly shifted beneath his throat.
Aryamila lowered her voice almost to a whisper.
"Then maybe we stop letting everyone else decide what we become."
Gods.
He looked at her like she had just handed him hope.
And perhaps she had.
The ballroom doors opened suddenly behind them.
Both stepped apart instinctively.
A palace servant bowed nervously near the entrance.
"Your Highness."
Kaelith straightened immediately.
"The king requests your presence in the western council chamber."
Of course he did.
Duty returning once again to interrupt whatever this was becoming.
Kaelith closed his eyes briefly in frustration before recovering.
"I'll come shortly."
The servant bowed and disappeared back inside.
Silence returned to the balcony.
Aryamila smiled softly.
"The kingdom keeps stealing you away."
Kaelith looked at her for a long moment.
Then quietly said:
"It's not the kingdom I mind leaving with."
The meaning struck her instantly.
He did not mind duty.
He minded leaving her.
Aryamila's heart betrayed her completely.
Kaelith stepped backward reluctantly toward the ballroom doors.
But before entering—
he stopped.
Turned back.
And for one reckless second beneath silver moonlight—
the crown prince forgot politics entirely.
"Stay after the gathering ends," he said softly.
Aryamila blinked once.
"Why?"
Kaelith's gaze held hers steadily.
"Because I'm beginning to hate goodbyes from you."
After the Music Ends
Aryamila remained on the balcony long after Kaelith disappeared back into the ballroom.
The night breeze cooled her flushed cheeks, but not the warmth gathering endlessly beneath her ribs.
I'm beginning to hate goodbyes from you.
Gods.
How was she supposed to survive a man who spoke like that?
Below the balcony, the palace gardens shimmered silver beneath moonlight while fountains whispered through the dark.
The kingdom beyond the palace walls still trembled from unrest.
Yet somehow the thing frightening Aryamila most tonight was not politics.
It was how quickly Kaelith had become important to her.
Dangerously important.
Inside the ballroom, another song began.
Soft violins.
Elegant laughter.
The sound felt distant now.
Almost unreal.
Aryamila finally returned inside several minutes later.
The moment she entered, conversation subtly shifted around her.
Not openly.
Court nobles were too polished for obvious staring.
But she noticed the glances.
The whispers behind jeweled fans.
The way conversations paused when she passed.
The prince had danced with her.
Not ceremonially.
Personally.
And royal courts fed upon details like starving creatures.
Lady Seraphine intercepted Aryamila near the eastern wine table.
Graceful as always.
Perfectly composed.
"Princess."
Aryamila smiled politely.
"Lady Seraphine."
For a moment neither woman spoke.
The tension between them remained elegant enough to pass as diplomacy.
Barely.
Seraphine lifted her wine glass slightly.
"You seem to have captured Riverhold's attention tonight."
Aryamila recognized the careful phrasing immediately.
Not accusation.
Warning disguised as observation.
She answered calmly.
"The ballroom appears easily distracted."
A faint smile touched Seraphine's lips despite herself.
"You learn quickly."
Aryamila studied her carefully now.
Seraphine was beautiful.
Refined.
Intelligent enough to survive Riverhold's vicious court for years.
And suddenly Aryamila understood something uncomfortable.
This woman cared about Kaelith too.
Perhaps not as deeply as rumors suggested.
But enough.
Enough for disappointment to sharpen behind her calm expression tonight.
Seraphine glanced toward the western side of the ballroom where Kaelith stood surrounded by ministers again.
"He looks happier lately."
The quiet honesty caught Aryamila off guard.
Seraphine continued softly:
"I had almost forgotten he could smile without forcing it."
Aryamila looked toward him too.
Even from across the crowded hall, she could recognize the exhaustion hidden beneath his composure.
The loneliness.
And the warmth that only appeared when their eyes met.
Because they did meet again almost immediately.
Kaelith looked across the ballroom—
and found her instantly.
As though he had been searching unconsciously the entire time.
The moment his gaze settled on Aryamila, something in his expression softened.
Small.
Nearly invisible.
Yet undeniable.
Seraphine noticed too.
Of course she did.
A quiet sadness flickered across her face before disappearing beneath graceful poise once more.
Then she surprised Aryamila completely.
"Protect his heart carefully, Princess."
Aryamila blinked softly.
Seraphine's gaze remained fixed on the ballroom crowd.
"This kingdom asks too much from him already."
The words carried no bitterness.
Only truth.
Before Aryamila could answer, Seraphine inclined her head politely and disappeared back into the crowd.
Leaving Aryamila standing very still beside the wine table.
Protect his heart.
As though she already held it.
The thought frightened her.
Because perhaps she did.
Hours later, the royal gathering finally began to thin.
Nobles departed beneath lantern-lit corridors while servants extinguished lower chandeliers one by one.
The music softened into quieter arrangements.
Midnight approached.
Aryamila stood near the eastern archway watching the ballroom gradually empty.
And despite herself—
she waited for him.
A dangerous habit already forming.
Kaelith finally emerged from another cluster of ministers looking exhausted enough to declare war on diplomacy itself.
The moment he spotted her still waiting near the archway—
something warm crossed his face.
Relief.
Gods.
Aryamila's chest tightened painfully at the sight.
He crossed the ballroom toward her without hesitation now.
No caution.
No pretense.
As though seeing her at the end of the night had become instinctive already.
"You stayed."
His voice carried quiet surprise beneath the exhaustion.
Aryamila smiled softly.
"You asked me to."
The answer affected him immediately.
She could see it.
Kaelith stopped before her beneath the dim remaining chandelier light.
The ballroom around them had nearly emptied now.
Only distant servants and scattered nobles remained.
Still—
this was reckless.
Neither cared enough anymore.
Kaelith lowered his voice.
"I thought the court might frighten you away first."
Aryamila tilted her head slightly.
"Should it?"
"Probably."
"But you're still here."
His gaze held hers steadily.
"Yes."
One word.
Yet it carried something dangerously close to devotion.
The silence between them deepened.
Warm.
Intimate.
Then Kaelith glanced toward the open balcony doors at the far end of the hall.
Moonlight spilled silver across the marble floor beyond them.
He looked back toward her slowly.
"Walk with me?"
Aryamila's pulse betrayed her instantly.
Still—
she answered softly:
"Yes."
The Hour After Midnight
The palace corridors had fallen quiet by the time they left the ballroom.
Most nobles had already retired to their chambers.
Servants moved softly through distant halls extinguishing lanterns one by one while moonlight poured silver through the high arched windows.
Kaelith walked beside Aryamila through the sleeping palace with one dangerous awareness repeating endlessly inside him:
She stayed.
Not because diplomacy required it.
Not because court etiquette demanded politeness.
She stayed because he asked.
Gods.
That simple truth alone nearly undid him.
Neither spoke immediately.
The silence between them felt too full already.
At the far end of the eastern corridor, Kaelith pushed open a narrow carved door leading onto one of the smaller upper terraces overlooking Riverhold.
Cool night air swept around them instantly.
The city stretched beneath the cliffs in scattered gold lanterns and drifting river mist.
Far below, the black river wound through the capital like a ribbon of moonlight.
Aryamila stepped slowly toward the terrace railing.
"It's beautiful."
Kaelith watched her instead of the view.
"Yes."
The answer slipped out before he could stop it.
Aryamila turned toward him immediately.
Realizing too late what he meant—
Kaelith exhaled softly through his nose.
"You make it difficult to behave like a prince."
A smile touched her lips.
"That sounds very serious."
"It is destroying years of royal training."
"That tragic?"
"You have no idea."
She laughed quietly beneath the moonlight.
And once again Kaelith felt the strange ache of wanting to keep that sound forever.
Dangerous thought.
Very dangerous thought.
Aryamila rested both hands lightly against the marble railing overlooking the city.
The breeze moved softly through her dark hair.
Kaelith joined her beside the terrace edge, close enough that their shoulders nearly touched.
Below them, Riverhold finally seemed peaceful again.
But only from a distance.
Both knew unrest still waited beneath the surface.
Aryamila spoke softly into the night.
"When I was little, I used to imagine what love would feel like."
Kaelith's pulse shifted immediately.
He turned toward her carefully.
"And?"
A faint smile appeared at the corner of her mouth.
"I thought it would be grander."
He frowned slightly.
"Grander?"
"Poetry. Thunderstorms. Dramatic declarations beneath palace windows."
"That sounds exhausting."
"It does now."
Kaelith smiled faintly.
Aryamila looked out toward the river again.
"I didn't think it would feel quiet."
The words settled between them softly.
Honest.
Kaelith understood instantly.
Because this thing growing between them did not feel loud or reckless.
It felt natural.
Like relief.
Like finding someone who understood parts of you the world usually ignored.
His voice lowered.
"I never imagined it at all."
Aryamila glanced toward him curiously.
"You never thought about it?"
Kaelith leaned lightly against the stone railing.
"My life was scheduled before I learned how to hold a sword."
Moonlight caught the tiredness hidden behind his expression.
"Kings do not raise heirs to dream romantically."
Something painful tightened inside Aryamila's chest.
"Kaelith…"
He shook his head faintly.
"I knew there would eventually be a political marriage."
His gaze drifted toward the city below.
"A suitable alliance. A respectable queen."
Then slowly—
very slowly—
he looked back at her.
"I just never expected to care first."
Aryamila's breath caught softly.
Because there it was again.
That honesty capable of breaking her apart completely.
Kaelith took one slow step closer.
Neither pretended not to notice anymore.
The moonlight between them felt fragile now.
Intimate.
Dangerous.
"You should know something," he said quietly.
Aryamila's pulse quickened.
"What?"
"When I asked you to dance tonight…"
His gaze held hers steadily.
"…I forgot the court existed."
Gods.
She could not survive this man.
Aryamila looked down briefly, smiling helplessly despite herself.
Kaelith's expression softened instantly at the sight.
"You do that often lately."
"Do what?"
"Smile when looking at me."
"That sounds like confidence."
"It sounds like observation."
She laughed softly again.
Then suddenly stopped—
because Kaelith had reached up gently toward her face.
Slowly.
Carefully enough to give her time to move away.
She did not.
His fingers brushed one loose strand of hair behind her ear.
Such a small touch.
Yet Aryamila felt it everywhere.
Kaelith's hand lingered briefly near her cheek before lowering again.
Both of them breathing slightly unevenly now.
The distance between them had become impossibly small.
Aryamila's voice barely rose above a whisper.
"You look at me like you're trying very hard not to kiss me."
Kaelith closed his eyes once.
Briefly.
As though the sentence physically wounded him.
When he looked at her again, his restraint was hanging by threads.
"That," he said quietly, "is because I am."