Chapter 83
Lila
90%
The ache was dull today. Manageable.
It nestled behind my ribs like something leftover from a bad dream–present, but fading. I sat propped against a stack of pillows, the sun filtering through the high infirmary windows in long gold slants.
Outside, I could hear faint voices in the hall, the occasional creak of boots and armor. Inside, only the crackle of the hearth.
My body was healing. My thoughts weren’t far behind.
I stared at the selection folder I’d asked to have brought to my bedside—untouched so far, its ribbon still tied. A few weeks ago, it had felt like a cage. Now, it looked more like a key.
I’d spent so long being I was a pawn in someone else’s game–my father’s, Elena’s, the council’s. Maybe I still was. But if I had to play, I wanted to choose my own moves. Just like Asher suggested.
I wasn’t staying for Henry anymore.
The door opened quietly, and I didn’t need to look up to know it was Damon.
He didn’t knock. He never did, but not out of arrogance. It was… familiarity. Like he belonged here, beyond it being his Palace, that is.
He carried a tray and set it on the small table beside my bed without a word. I caught the scent of rosemary, baked bread, and honey.
“You brought lunch,” I said.
“I brought peace offerings,” he replied, taking the chair across from me. “The palace kitchen tried to send broth again. I overruled them.”
I glanced at the tray: roasted root vegetables, warm rolls, and what looked suspiciously like honey cakes. “And the books?”
He nodded toward the small stack in his other hand. “One has wolves in it. One has scandal. One has both.”
I smiled despite myself. “You really are trying.”
He met my eyes. “You really deserve to be tried for.”
The words hit somewhere low in my chest. Like a stone dropped into a still pool. He placed the books down, straightened the edge of the tray like it needed to be just so to please me.
I studied the lines of his face–the cut of his jaw, the faint shadow beneath his eyes. He looked tired. Softer around the edges. But not worn down. Just…
burdened.
“I’m going back,” I said finally.
He looked up, an edge to his eyes that said he thought I was leaving.
“To the selection,” I clarified. “To my rooms. To… this.”
His brow lifted slightly, but his shoulder relaxed.“You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”
“I know.” I smoothed a fold in the blanket over my lap. “But I do. Want to.”
Damon didn’t answer right away. He just watched me, something unreadable flickering behind his gaze. Not doubt. Not worry. Something closer to awe. Or maybe restraint.
1/A
Chapter 83
“Tomorrow, then,” he said. “I’ll walk you back.”
The idea of him beside me—public, present was more grounding than I expected.
“I’ll need help with the stairs,” I added, lips curving.
“I’ll carry you.”
“Please don’t. The gossip will keep me from
His eyes crinkled. “As you wish.”
esting,”
A silence settled between us again. Comfortable. Full.
He didn’t linger much longer. Just snoothed the spine of one of the books, nodded once, and slipped out with that same quiet grace. No demand. No
pressure.
Just space.
I reached for the tray. And then the folder.
And for the first time since I’d arrived at the palace, I opened it because I wanted to.
By evening I was feeling well enough to wander.
The words on the page stayed with me, though–lines about poise, diplomacy, performance. Once they’d felt like shackles. Now they read more like questions.
Could I do this? Did I want to? For once, the answer didn’t come from fear.
The room felt too small after that. Too full of waiting. So I dressed slowly, wrapped a shawl around my shoulders, and slipped out before I could change my mind. I didn’t know where I was going. I just knew I couldn’t sit still any longer.
Moonlight spilled across the stone paths in silver sheets, turning hedges into shadows and marble into bone.
I hadn’t planned on coming out here specifically, but something in me was restless, and I followed it down the hallways until the air turned cool and the world opened wide.
Damon stood near the far edge of the terrace, his back to me, a hand resting against the low stone wall. He wasn’t wearing his usual layers–just a black tunic, sleeves pushed to the elbow, collar open.
His hair was slightly mussed, like he’d been running his hands through it. He looked… beautiful. Tired. Unarmored.
He didn’t turn as I approached, just said, “Couldn’t sleep?”
“Not really.” I stopped beside him, not quite touching. “You?”
“Not since I found you.”
That made something tighten in my throat. I looked ahead, following his gaze into the dark stretch of hedgerows and roses.
Somewhere beyond the trees, water trickled through a stone fountain. A breeze stirred through the vines. The world didn’t feel so heavy out here.
“You didn’t have to stay so close,” I said softly.
“I did,” he answered without hesitation. “I needed to.”
We stood like that for a while. Quiet. Still. And then, without looking at me, Damon spoke again.
2/1
Wed, 4 JUNI
JUZI
Chapter 83
“I haven’t stopped thinking about what you told me. About your father. About who you are.”
I tensed, but didn’t speak. He turned toward me then, slow and deliberate. “I keep wondering how someone could survive so much and still look at the world the way you do.”
“Like I’m waiting for the next blow?”
“Like you’re still hoping it won’t come.”
I let out a breath that wasn’t quite a laugh. “I’m not that hopeful.”
“You are,” he said. “Even if it scares you.”
My fingers curled at my sides. “I’m not afraid of you.”
“I didn’t say you were.” His voice was gentle. “But I think you’re afraid of being happy. Like it might be another lie.”
I looked away. “It usually is.”
“I don’t want this to be,” he said.
I felt hi swords in the hollow places I didn’t like to admit were still there.
“I’m still guarded,” I admitted. “I don’t know how not to be.”
He nodded. “Then I’ll meet you where you are.”
I turned to face him fully. The garden stretched around us like a secret, but he was the only thing in focus.
“I’m tired of lying,” I said. “From keeping things from everyone, from you.”
His hand reached out–not to pull me, not to claim me. Just a quiet offer, palm up, waiting.
I placed mine in his.
He stepped closer, slowly, his eyes never leaving mine. There was no question in them, only a quiet certainty–like he already knew my answer.
His free hand lifted to brush a loose strand of hair behind my ear, fingertips grazing my cheek. I didn’t look away. I couldn’t.
Then, with the same care he’d shown me since the moment I returned, Damon leane
Chapter 83
Lila
90%
The ache was dull today. Manageable.
It nestled behind my ribs like something leftover from a bad dream–present, but fading. I sat propped against a stack of pillows, the sun filtering through the high infirmary windows in long gold slants.
Outside, I could hear faint voices in the hall, the occasional creak of boots and armor. Inside, only the crackle of the hearth.
My body was healing. My thoughts weren’t far behind.
I stared at the selection folder I’d asked to have brought to my bedside—untouched so far, its ribbon still tied. A few weeks ago, it had felt like a cage. Now, it looked more like a key.
I’d spent so long being I was a pawn in someone else’s game–my father’s, Elena’s, the council’s. Maybe I still was. But if I had to play, I wanted to choose my own moves. Just like Asher suggested.
I wasn’t staying for Henry anymore.
The door opened quietly, and I didn’t need to look up to know it was Damon.
He didn’t knock. He never did, but not out of arrogance. It was… familiarity. Like he belonged here, beyond it being his Palace, that is.
He carried a tray and set it on the small table beside my bed without a word. I caught the scent of rosemary, baked bread, and honey.
“You brought lunch,” I said.
“I brought peace offerings,” he replied, taking the chair across from me. “The palace kitchen tried to send broth again. I overruled them.”
I glanced at the tray: roasted root vegetables, warm rolls, and what looked suspiciously like honey cakes. “And the books?”
He nodded toward the small stack in his other hand. “One has wolves in it. One has scandal. One has both.”
I smiled despite myself. “You really are trying.”
He met my eyes. “You really deserve to be tried for.”
The words hit somewhere low in my chest. Like a stone dropped into a still pool. He placed the books down, straightened the edge of the tray like it needed to be just so to please me.
I studied the lines of his face–the cut of his jaw, the faint shadow beneath his eyes. He looked tired. Softer around the edges. But not worn down. Just…
burdened.
“I’m going back,” I said finally.
He looked up, an edge to his eyes that said he thought I was leaving.
“To the selection,” I clarified. “To my rooms. To… this.”
His brow lifted slightly, but his shoulder relaxed.“You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”
“I know.” I smoothed a fold in the blanket over my lap. “But I do. Want to.”
Damon didn’t answer right away. He just watched me, something unreadable flickering behind his gaze. Not doubt. Not worry. Something closer to awe. Or maybe restraint.
1/A
Chapter 83
“Tomorrow, then,” he said. “I’ll walk you back.”
The idea of him beside me—public, present was more grounding than I expected.
“I’ll need help with the stairs,” I added, lips curving.
“I’ll carry you.”
“Please don’t. The gossip will keep me from
His eyes crinkled. “As you wish.”
esting,”
A silence settled between us again. Comfortable. Full.
He didn’t linger much longer. Just snoothed the spine of one of the books, nodded once, and slipped out with that same quiet grace. No demand. No
pressure.
Just space.
I reached for the tray. And then the folder.
And for the first time since I’d arrived at the palace, I opened it because I wanted to.
By evening I was feeling well enough to wander.
The words on the page stayed with me, though–lines about poise, diplomacy, performance. Once they’d felt like shackles. Now they read more like questions.
Could I do this? Did I want to? For once, the answer didn’t come from fear.
The room felt too small after that. Too full of waiting. So I dressed slowly, wrapped a shawl around my shoulders, and slipped out before I could change my mind. I didn’t know where I was going. I just knew I couldn’t sit still any longer.
Moonlight spilled across the stone paths in silver sheets, turning hedges into shadows and marble into bone.
I hadn’t planned on coming out here specifically, but something in me was restless, and I followed it down the hallways until the air turned cool and the world opened wide.
Damon stood near the far edge of the terrace, his back to me, a hand resting against the low stone wall. He wasn’t wearing his usual layers–just a black tunic, sleeves pushed to the elbow, collar open.
His hair was slightly mussed, like he’d been running his hands through it. He looked… beautiful. Tired. Unarmored.
He didn’t turn as I approached, just said, “Couldn’t sleep?”
“Not really.” I stopped beside him, not quite touching. “You?”
“Not since I found you.”
That made something tighten in my throat. I looked ahead, following his gaze into the dark stretch of hedgerows and roses.
Somewhere beyond the trees, water trickled through a stone fountain. A breeze stirred through the vines. The world didn’t feel so heavy out here.
“You didn’t have to stay so close,” I said softly.
“I did,” he answered without hesitation. “I needed to.”
We stood like that for a while. Quiet. Still. And then, without looking at me, Damon spoke again.
2/1
Wed, 4 JUNI
JUZI
Chapter 83
“I haven’t stopped thinking about what you told me. About your father. About who you are.”
I tensed, but didn’t speak. He turned toward me then, slow and deliberate. “I keep wondering how someone could survive so much and still look at the world the way you do.”
“Like I’m waiting for the next blow?”
“Like you’re still hoping it won’t come.”
I let out a breath that wasn’t quite a laugh. “I’m not that hopeful.”
“You are,” he said. “Even if it scares you.”
My fingers curled at my sides. “I’m not afraid of you.”
“I didn’t say you were.” His voice was gentle. “But I think you’re afraid of being happy. Like it might be another lie.”
I looked away. “It usually is.”
“I don’t want this to be,” he said.
I felt hi swords in the hollow places I didn’t like to admit were still there.
“I’m still guarded,” I admitted. “I don’t know how not to be.”
He nodded. “Then I’ll meet you where you are.”
I turned to face him fully. The garden stretched around us like a secret, but he was the only thing in focus.
“I’m tired of lying,” I said. “From keeping things from everyone, from you.”
His hand reached out–not to pull me, not to claim me. Just a quiet offer, palm up, waiting.
I placed mine in his.
He stepped closer, slowly, his eyes never leaving mine. There was no question in them, only a quiet certainty–like he already knew my answer.
His free hand lifted to brush a loose strand of hair behind my ear, fingertips grazing my cheek. I didn’t look away. I couldn’t.
Then, with the same care he’d shown me since the moment I returned, Damon leaned in–slow and steady–giving me every chance to stop him. I didn’t.
The kiss was slow. Sweet. Nothing like the fire and hunger I’d always imagined a mark would bring. This wasn’t about claiming or proving. It wasn’t about being strong or surviving.
It was about stillness. About choosing.
His other hand came to my cheek, fingers feather–light, My eyes fluttered shut.
I let myself breathe.
When we parted, there was no need to say anything. The silence between us had changed shape again.
Damon laced our fingers together and didn’t let go.
d in–slow and steady–giving me every chance to stop him. I didn’t.
The kiss was slow. Sweet. Nothing like the fire and hunger I’d always imagined a mark would bring. This wasn’t about claiming or proving. It wasn’t about being strong or surviving.
It was about stillness. About choosing.
His other hand came to my cheek, fingers feather–light, My eyes fluttered shut.
I let myself breathe.
When we parted, there was no need to say anything. The silence between us had changed shape again.
Damon laced our fingers together and didn’t let go.
