I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself. “Because… about a million different reasons. The first of which being you’re my disciple, and you’re under my protection. I can’t cross that line, Eira. Not when there are a thousand dangers out there waiting for you. And… you deserve better than... this. Better than me. You deserve all the things you want. I can’t… be the things you just said you needed in a man. Although I wish I could.” My voice softens, but the tension remains, simmering just beneath the surface. “Not to mention, you wouldn’t remember it even if it happened. And that would be a damn shame.”
“Well, that’s too bad. I think I would’ve liked doing all those things you just said,” she says with a pout, though it’s hard to tell how serious she is with the wine making her playful, uninhibited. “I told you, you’re no fun. Kissing me… fucking me doesn’t have anything to do with being my husband,” she says with a wink, and I think I’m almost about to give in again. “Think how much easier life could be if you could just let go, Prince Rylan?” Her words slur even more, as if my confession is already far from her mind.
Thank fuck. What was I thinking saying those things? “I never claimed to be easy, Eira.”
She nudges me playfully, and I can’t help but smile. “No. You didn’t. You’re not easy at all. But I lied.” She pokes me in the chest. “You’re much more fun than I expected. Surprisingly.”
Her head falls heavily against my shoulder, and I let it stay there, savouring the warmth of her closeness. “You’ve surprised me too, Eira,” I admit quietly, remembering saying those words to her in the courtyard. “In ways I didn’t think were possible.” The tenderness in her gaze stirs something deep and dormant inside me. But I push it down. “You’re exhausted. And very, very drunk,” I say, my voice soft. “Get some rest.”
She rolls her eyes but smiles. “You’re bossy, you know that?”
“I do, it’s my job,” I say, smirking as I brush my fingers along her arm. “And right now, my job is also to make sure you’re taken care of, my sweet disciple. You did well today.” I pull the picnic blanket up over the both of us.
Her smile softens, and her head drops lower, against my chest, her body relaxing against mine. “You’re not so bad yourself,” she mumbles sleepily, her voice slurred with wine. “Not easy, but handsome. Too serious but also funny. Terrifying but also kind. I don’t know what to make of you at all, Rylan. Not at all. But I wish you’d let me. I wish that so much.”
I smile down at her, running my fingers gently through her hair. “Shhh, get some sleep, Eira.” The warmth of her, the feel of her so close... it’s too much, but I don’t move. If it could be so, I’d never move from this spot ever again.
“Yes, Your Highness. And I’ll try not to drool this time,” she sleepily murmurs. As her breathing slows and her body relaxes against mine, I feel the weight of everything seemingly disappearing. The crown, the kingdom, the rebellion… here, with her, it all fades.
“And Eira? You already know me better than most,” I whisper, my lips brushing her forehead. And for just a moment, I let myself imagine what it would be like to have this—really have this. To let her in, to let myself have her, even for just a moment.
The city streetsare quiet tonight, but not in the way that puts you at ease. It’s the kind of quiet that feels heavy, like a storm waiting to break. I lead the patrol with Mathis and Grellor at my sides, their footfalls matching mine as we weave through the narrow streets, the cobblestones slick underfoot. The lanterns flicker in the night breeze, casting long shadows against the walls.
There’s a tension in the air, something we’ve all felt for weeks now. The people are restless, murmurs of rebellion louder than they’ve ever been. The King’s Guard has tried to keep control, to stay ahead of it, but it’s like holding back a flood with a sprinkling of sand.
“Enjoy your little picnic this morning?” Mathis teases me to lighten the mood.
I just throw him a glare. I’d had to tell him where I was so that half the King’s Guard hadn’t combed the castle looking for me while I’d wanted some privacy with Eirabella. As the Captain of the Guard, he’d done a good job protecting me. But as my best friend, he’d done an even better job of being a right pain in my ass.
“Shut up about that, already. I just wanted to give her a treat.” He rolls his eyes but doesn’t continue the conversation. I take the chance to ask him something else. “Have you heard from Yosef?”
He shakes his head, his expression tight. “Not since last week. He was supposed to check in yesterday, but nothing yet. Could be he’s just lying low.”
I nod, though the knot in my gut tightens. Lying low isn’t like Yosef. He’s sneaky and cunning. And very good at his job.If he hasn’t had a chance to report in, there must be a good reason. And that’s what worried me.
Before I can press further, the sound of breaking wood snaps through the air, followed by a chorus of panicked cries. My pulse spikes.
“Trouble,” I mutter, picking up the pace, my hand already gripping the hilt of my sword.
We push through the narrow alley that opens into the square, and the scene hits me like a punch to the gut. People are shouting, running, pushing past one another as chaos unfolds in front of us. There’s a group of men at the centre, armed with makeshift weapons, clashing with townsfolk and guards alike.
The shouts grow louder, cutting through the night air like jagged glass. I feel the palpable fear crackle through me as we near the crowd, and I know this has the potential to get ugly fast. Mathis and Grellor flank me, ready, my pulse racing as the first blow is struck—a heavy crash of weapons falling, and a scream that rips through the noise.
We rush forward, swords drawn. The crowd is seemingly turning on itself, but I know better. There are instigators mixed in with the innocent townsfolk, pushing, fighting, inciting the violence against the growing storm of bodies and chaos. I shove through the crowd, my focus narrowing. I won’t let this get out of hand. Not while I’m here.
“Split up!” I bark to Mathis and Grellor, and we expertly rush forward to take our places, our blades drawn. The rest of the guards take up their places around the square.
Then, as if on cue, mayhem explodes around us. A man charges toward me, a crude blade in his hand. His eyes are wild, desperate, as are his movements. I parry easily, my sword meeting his with a ringing clash of steel. The sheer force of the blow knocks him back, and before he can recover, I twist, knocking the weapon from his hand with a swift strike.
“Stay down,” I growl at him in warning, but there’s no time to wait—another attacker comes at me from the side. I twist, avoiding the strike, and slam the hilt of my sword into his gut. He crumples, wheezing, and I move on.
Mathis is already in the thick of it to my left, his sword flashing as he takes down another attacker. Grellor is several feet from him, his brute strength overpowering two men who try to rush him.
I feel the heat building inside me, the magic stirring, but I hold it back, waiting. Fire is dangerous in a crowd like this—too many innocent people could get hurt, water too hard to control for close targets. But the moment I spot one of the instigators raising a flaming torch, ready to hurl it into a nearby stall, I react without thinking.
I flick my wrist, and water surges from the nearby fountain, dousing the torch and the man holding it. He stumbles back, gasping as the wave slams into him, knocking him off balance. I twist my hand, and the water follows my command, swirling around his legs and binding him in place.
“Stay down, if you don’t want to get hurt worse,” I shout at him as I turn to face the next threat.
