Chapter 9
427 Words
The door creaked open, and Ava stepped into the West Hall again.
Kaelen was already there, leaning one arm across the back of his chair, golden wine untouched before him. Tonight, the firelight caught in the bronze edges of his tunic, casting sharp shadows across his jawline.
He looked up as she entered.
For a moment, Ava forgot how to breathe.
It wasn’t just the way he looked — though he wore command like it was sewn into his skin. Broad shoulders, sun-browned skin, forearms marked with old blade scars, and dark hair tied back just enough to reveal eyes like storm-washed steel.
He wasn’t handsome in the way court painters tried to soften kings. He was handsome like a sword left in fire — all edge and heat, made to be dangerous.
And he was looking at her like she was no less armed.
“You’re late,” he said softly.
“I was considering not coming at all,” Ava replied, walking forward in a gown the color of dusk — soft, flowing, and chosen deliberately. Not to please. To disarm.
She caught the faint twitch at the corner of his mouth.
“You would’ve missed the roast duck,” he said, gesturing to the seat beside him this time. Not across from him, like last night.
Ava hesitated… then sat.
They ate in silence for a while. The scent of rosemary and slow-baked spices filled the room, but Ava tasted little. Her focus remained fixed — half on him, half on the space between them.
She could feel his warmth. He hadn’t touched her, but his presence carried weight. His sleeves were rolled up slightly, revealing veins and calloused hands made for war, not wine.
He caught her glance. “Is there something on my face?”
“No,” she said evenly. “Just wondering what kind of king eats in silence every night.”
“One who’s spent too long listening to vipers.”
He set down his goblet. “You, at least, strike when you mean it.”
A pause passed. Ava turned toward him more fully.
“And you?” she asked. “Do you always hide fire behind silence?”
Kaelen studied her.
“You’re beautiful when you’re angry,” he said, voice low and deliberate.
Ava blinked, expression unreadable.
“And you’re predictable when you’re trying to be disarming,” she replied, sipping her wine.
That got a real smile from him — not the practiced mask of royalty, but something that curled at the edge of mischief.
- Writer
