Auren hesitated only a moment, then leaned in as though he hadn’t been certain I would allow it. Did I have the choice to deny him this after all we had done? Even if yes, I could not imagine finishing in any other manner.
I lifted my head, my hair matted with sweat, and kissed him on the lips.
Auren didn’t kiss me back. Not right away. He tensed, eyes fluttering open.
I wanted to shrink into a pebble when his surprised gaze swept over my face.
“Forgive me.” The words welled to the surface. I almost said them, but for the crushing blow of his mouth against mine that imbued me with new heat, with life itself. He kissed me hungrily, thrusting his tongue into my mouth and running his fingers through my sweat-drenched locks.
And when he pulled back, there was no reservation left in his glowing blue eyes.
Auren’s mouth brushed mine again—gentler this time, a question instead of a command. And I answered without speaking, without thinking. Just a sigh, just a shift, just the way my body tilted to meet his as we moved.
Together.
Bound.
And utterly undone.
Chapter
Six
CALLIS
The palace changed on the walk back.
It wasn’t the corridors themselves—they were still lined in cool marble, still bathed in the amber hush of lanternlight—but something in how they opened before us. We didn’t pass through the servant halls or outer courts. We turned inward. Up. Toward a wing that shimmered with old wealth and the hush of closed doors. I recognized none of it.
Auren walked beside me but didn’t speak much. His gait was smooth, measured. No longer the boy from the stream, no longer the lover from the altar. Just poised. Distant. As though every movement had been polished in advance.
He led me through an arched corridor of rose-tinted stone where the floor gleamed like honey. The air smelled of jasmine and a finer kind of incense, more resinous, more rare. A pair of robed attendants waited outside a carved wooden door with brassinlays, and when Auren nodded, they stepped forward to open it for us.
The moment we crossed the threshold, the hush deepened.
It was unlike any space I had ever seen.
Soft light poured from the moonstones. The chambers weren’t just rooms; they were arrangements. A sunken lounge with velvet seats and brass-lipped tables. A domed bathing alcove tiled in blues and golds. A writing desk, curved and gleaming, tucked beneath a high window overlooking the southern cliffs. And in the center of it all, a bed, low, broad, and crowned in silks so fine they looked like mist. Everything glowed.
My chest tightened.
“This is yours now,” Auren said, not looking at me. “Our rooms. Your chest is there.”
He gestured toward a lacquered trunk near the lounge. I spotted my things stacked neatly inside: the tunic I’d arrived in, my half-finished copy of the poems of Virelan, a small bundle of notes, temple scrolls, and a clean change of robes. Folded by unfamiliar hands. Touched by strangers. Still, it anchored me.
“I didn’t expect all of this,” I said quietly.
Auren gave a small shrug. “It’s common for those bonded beneath full rites.”
I stepped further into the room, letting my fingers graze a velvet armrest. It was impossibly soft, like touching the inside of a peach. The silk canopy above the bed caught a breeze from the open window andstirred like breath.
Auren walked ahead of me and poured water into a pair of glasses from a sculpted pitcher near the bed. He handed me one without meeting my gaze.
“Meals are held on the hour in the inner refectory. You can eat in the chambers if you prefer. The schedule will be brought tomorrow. Most days begin with the dawn bell, followed by morning devotion, then instruction or assigned duties. The bathhouse is yours to use at will. The western pool is quieter.”
I listened, but the words barely registered. My mind was caught on the way he stood, shoulders tense, neck stiff. His voice had no edge, no cruelty. But it was cool. Measured. As though the warmth of before had been part of the ritual and not the man.
I looked at him.
