The chains were no longer tight. The guards had been careless, or perhaps too distracted by the Queen’s fall and the chaos that followed. Either way, I sat in silence, breathing in her scent that still lingered in the air—floral, wild, potent.
Magic swirled around me.
Soft fingers—familiar fingers—brushed against my chest. I didn’t have to look. I knew the scent, the rhythm of her breath, the curve of her jealousy.
Eira.
My fiancée.
She didn’t speak at first. She traced my skin like she was memorizing it again—the way her hands grazed over my n*****s, glided down to my abs, then up to my jaw. Her nails danced like whispers, but her chuckle was venom sweet.
“You’ve gotten thinner... but stronger.”
I stayed quiet. Still.
Her voice dropped to a sultry whisper, and she circled me like
