Chapter 20: One More Day

Alaric

They arrived under gray skies.

The kind of morning that swallowed light before it reached the ground. It suited them. The Elders never came with the sun behind their backs.

Twelve cloaked figures dismounted at the gates with the same grace they always carried—lethal, regal, and slow. Deliberate. The guards bowed low. The castle bowed lower. And I stood waiting in the Great Hall, expression carved from ice, because it was the only way to meet monsters like them.

Council.

Family.

Judges draped in old blood and older law.

“Your Majesty,” Vasilis said as he entered first, his cloak still dusted from travel. His tone, as always, was polished. Empty. “We trust all is well in your kingdom.”

“As well as can be,” I replied. “You’ll find nothing has changed.”

That was a lie, of course.

Everything had changed.

Their purpose here had nothing to do with Annora. Not yet.

A border skirmish in the East. Whispers of human interference in noble territories. A missing shipment of forged bloodstones from the Obsidian mines.

Matters that mattered.

But not to me.

Not when I was still thinking about the sound she made when I touched her, the tremble in her hands, and the way her scent, gods, still lingered in the corners of my chambers like a promise I had no right to claim.

And so, I had kept her away.

An order passed down in silence: The girl does not leave her wing.

Not until Edric finished applying the healing oil to the mark I left. Not until her scent dulled enough to avoid notice.

I needed time.

Just one more day.

We sat around the long table in the Eastern Council Room, where the stained glass windows painted color across stone and shadow. Reports were shared, borders discussed, and resolutions drafted.

I said little. Listened. Watched.

Until my mother’s voice broke the rhythm.

“Where is the servant girl?”

The question hung in the air like smoke. She didn’t look at me when she said it. Didn’t have to. The tone alone turned every Elder’s attention toward me.

“The one people whisper about,” she added softly. “The one they say is always near your side.”

A breathless silence followed.

I met her gaze slowly. Let it stretch. Let the quiet build until it was almost unbearable.

Then I smiled.

“Ah. You mean the one who brings me tea?” I said mildly. “I suppose I should be concerned how scandalous kindness has become in this court.”

One of the younger councilors let out a sharp breath, half laugh, half tension. No one else spoke.

My father leaned forward, his voice low. “We’d like to meet her.”

“In due time,” I replied smoothly, already standing. “She’s busy at the moment.”

The lie was silk over a sword.

She was in her chambers. Resting. Healing. Hidden.

But no one challenged me.

Not yet.

That night, I didn’t sleep.

I stared at the flames in the hearth until they guttered low, restless with need I could no longer ignore. I told myself I wouldn’t go to her. That staying away was protection. That my control would return if I simply waited it out.

It didn’t.

It only got worse.

And so, just before midnight, I left my chambers without a word. The halls were quiet. The guards stationed near the servant wing pretended not to see me.

I didn’t knock loud.

Just once. Soft. Intentional.

Her voice came like breath through the door. “Come in.”

I stepped inside.

The chamber was dim, lit only by the low flame of a single candle on the bedside table. She was seated by the window in a simple linen shift, her curls loose down her back, her bare feet tucked beneath her.

And when her eyes met mine…

That pull returned, sharp as ever. Familiar. Dangerous.

She stood, slowly.

“Your Majesty,” she said.

Her voice didn’t tremble. But everything else did.

So did I.

I shut the door behind me, locking it with more than just the latch.

The space between us was small.

The silence was smaller.

And still, I waited.

Because if I moved too fast…

If I gave in again…

I wouldn’t stop.

Not this time.

She didn’t speak.

Not right away.

She watched me instead, those wide, dark eyes catching the flicker of candlelight, the curve of her throat still hidden behind the collar of her nightdress. Her fingers twitched at her sides, like she didn’t know whether to reach for me or run.

And still, she didn’t move.

Neither did I.

Because I was too busy memorizing the sight of her like this. Bare. Barefoot. Unarmed.

And yet I was the one at a disadvantage.

“I shouldn’t be here,” I said at last.

She blinked. Slowly. “Then why are you?”

I let out a breath that sounded too much like a curse.

“Because I can't stop thinking about you.”

Her lips parted just slightly, but she didn’t answer.

Didn’t need to.

I crossed the room in two steps, slow enough for her to stop me, fast enough for her to feel the weight of what I wanted. She didn’t step back. Just looked up at me with a stillness that struck somewhere deeper than hunger.

Closer now, I could hear her heartbeat.

I could feel the pulse of it beneath her skin, too near the place I had already tasted.

Her scent was fainter than before. Edric’s oil was working, but it still curled around me like smoke, sweet, warm, and tempting.

I reached up, brushing a strand of hair from her cheek, and her breath caught.

So did mine.

“You’re healing,” I said softly.

Her eyes searched mine. “Will they know?”

“Not if I keep my distance.”

“And if you don’t?”

I didn’t answer.

Because we both already knew the truth.

She exhaled shakily. “You lied today.”

“Yes.”

“They asked about me.”

Edric was so talkative these days.

“Yes.”

“And you said I was busy.”

“You were.” I let my hand fall to her waist, not quite touching, just hovering above the linen. “Too busy being hidden.”

Annora swallowed. “They’ll find out.”

“I won’t let them.”

Her hand finally moved, rising slowly, carefully until her fingertips brushed the front of my shirt.

“Why did you bite me?” she whispered.

I could have lied. Said I lost control. Said it was the heat of the moment.

But I didn’t.

“Because I wanted to know if you’d taste the way you look,” I murmured, voice low. “Because I wanted something of you… inside me. Even if I couldn’t have the rest.”

She stared at me, unmoving, unreadable.

“You’re dangerous,” she whispered.

I leaned in, close enough to feel her breath. “So are you.”

She didn’t push me away.

She tilted her chin instead, just slightly. Barely.

But enough.

My mouth hovered just above hers. Not touching. Not yet. My hand rose to the nape of her neck, fingers brushing the edge of the bandage hidden beneath her collar.

She didn’t flinch.

“Annora,” I said, her name more prayer than warning.

Her eyes fluttered shut. “Yes.”

I kissed her.

This time slower.

Because I meant it.

It was heat and hunger and something softer buried underneath, something we didn’t speak of, something we couldn’t afford. Her fingers curled into my shirt, and I felt myself unraveling.

The taste of her still lingered in my memory. Sweet, rich, and unforgettable.

And I wanted more.

I deepened the kiss, let my hand slide over her waist, her back, until I could feel the shape of her spine through the thin linen. Her body arched instinctively into mine.

But I didn’t bite.

Gods help me, I wanted to.

But I didn’t.

Instead, I barely pulled back. My lips still brushing hers, my voice ragged.

“If I stay,” I said, “I won’t be able to stop.”

She didn’t open her eyes. Just whispered, “Then don’t stay.”

That almost broke me.

But I did stop.

Because one more day, just one, was all I needed to keep her safe. To keep her alive.

So I stepped away slowly, like a man removing his own dagger

I left the room without another word.

But her taste stayed with me long after the door shut.

And I knew no matter how many days I bought us, no matter how much distance I tried to put between us…

There would never be enough.