Chapter 118
Chapter 118
Damon
The scent of sweat and oil hit me before I opened the door.
The royal training hall was half–lit, the overhead lanterns casting long shadows across the stone floor. Weapons lined the walls–blunted swords, spears, and staff. The air was thick with the sharp metallic tang of old blood and the raw musk of exertion.
Asher was already there.
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as he drove a punishing series of strikes into a battered practice dummy.
He moved with loose precision, shirt hanging open, skin gleaming with His fists moved fast, disciplined.
But there was no focus in it. Just release.
He didn’t see me at first.
I closed the door behind me, the sound was loud in the cavernous space. Ash holding a bottle of wine instead of gearing for an argument.
“Well,” he said, breathless and smiling faintly. “Didn’t think I rated a personal
I walked toward him, unhurried. “This isn’t a visit.”
paused mid–swing and turned his head, brows arching as if I’d shown up
“Ah,” he said, rolling his shoulders as he stepped back from the dummy. ”
O you do know.”
His smirk tightened into something smug, but I didn’t stop until we stood face to face. I could feel the heat rolling off him. His eyes danced. Mine did not.
“Stay away from her.”
He tilted his head, letting the sweat drip from his temple. “You’ll have to be more specific, cousin. Physically? Politically? Emotionally? Or do you want a contract written in blood?”
“All of it.”
He chuckled. “Not very generous of you.”
“This isn’t a negotiation.”
“No,” he said, circling slightly, eyes scanning me like we were already sparring, “It’s a declaration. You’re finally claiming what you’ve spent months
pretending not to want.”
Jdidn’t answer. He kept circling. “You’re scared shitless, Damon. Not just that I want her–but that she might choose me over you.”
My jaw tightened.
“Because I see her,” he went on. “Not just the symbol. The woman. You’ve spent so long treating her like a risk assessment, or a Goddess–damned ghost, I’m amazed she even looks at you.”
I moved before I consciously decided to.
My fist connected with his jaw, snapping his head to the side. He stumbled a half–step and caught himself on the wall, laughing low as he straightened.
“Finally,” he muttered, rubbing his mouth. “Something honest.”
Then he shoved me. Hard.
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Chapter 118
I caught his wrist, twisted, and slammed him against the hearest support pillar. Not enough to bruise–but enough to make a point. The stone behin him cracked slightly. His breath came fast, his grin sharpening even as I pinned him.
“You’re charming,” I said quietly. “But don’t mistake proximity for power.”
His smirk faltered. Just for a breath.
“Then fully claim her,” he hissed. “If you’re brave enough to stop pretending.”
I held him there one moment longer, our forearms trembling with the restrained force between us.
Then I let go.
Asher straightened his collar with theatrical grace, masking whatever nerve I’d struck. “This is going to get messy,” he muttered. “For both of us.”
I didn’t respond. I turned and walked out, the weight of his presence still clinging to my shoulders like ash.
The door slammed behind me. But it didn’t help.
I should’ve gone to the war room. Or my quarters. Or the Council chamber where work waited like a noose.
Instead, my feet turned toward the eastern wing. Toward shadowed corridors, heavy silence, and the one room that still offered more questions than
answers.
The library.
If she was anywhere tonight, it would be there. I needed to see her.
The library was nearly dark when I entered, lit only by the dying glow of a few wall sconces and the silver wash of moonlight spilling through the arched windows.
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Silence hung like a living thing here. Thick. A hush that didn’t welcome noise so much as punish it. The scent of parchment and wax mingled with something faintly floral. Familiar.
I moved through the main aisle slowly, my boots quiet on the velvet runner. The towering shelves loomed above me, endless rows of order and forgotten thought. I didn’t have to search long.
Lila was there.
Tucked into the corner alcove. Curled into one of the velvet armchairs like she belonged there more than any book ever had. Her legs were folded beneath her, one slipper discarded at her feet. A book lay open in her lap, its pages tilted toward the light of a single, flickering lamp.
She didn’t look up at first. But I knew she heard me. Her shoulders stiffened–not in alarm, but recognition.
stopped just outside the circle of light, unsure why I hadn’t spoken.
Finally, she lifted her gaze. Her eyes met mine across the low space, steady. Quiet. A flicker of something unreadable passed between us.
“Should I leave?” I asked.
“No,” she said, voice soft. “It’s your library, and you look like you aren’t here by accident.”
I crossed the space and sat down across from her. The silence settled again.
I stared at the spine of the book in her lap. Some old volume on territorial rites. It didn’t seem like she had been reading it long.
“I told Asher to stay away from you.”
Her expression didn’t change. But her fingers closed around the edges of the book. “That wasn’t your decision.”
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Chapter 118
“I know. But I hate that he’s getting closer to you.”
She said nothing.
1 forced the next words out, even though they tasted bitter. “It wasn’t about jealousy. Not entirely. He’s dangerous when he wants something Arthu doesn’t understand how to lose well.”
Lila tilted her head slightly. “And you do?”
Hooked at her then. Really looked.
Moonlight kissed her jaw, her cheekbone, the hollow of her throat where her pulse beat steady and strong. She was still. Coiled like a question.
“No,” I admitted. “But I’m trying to learn.”
She folded the book closed slowly and set it on the side table. Her hand lingered there for a moment, fingers brushing the worn leather
“You keep treating me like I’m either going to run or break,” she said. And she just looked… tired of this game. “Like I’m something you’re afraid to touch in case it breaks.”
“I’m not afraid of you breaking,” I said. “I’m afraid of what I’ll do if you do.”
“I’m not something to protect yourself from, Damon.”
I leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on my knees, voice low. “What do you see when you look at me?”
Lila met my gaze. “A man who hasn’t figured out if wanting something makes him weak.”
That struck something I couldn’t name. I exhaled and reached out. Just my fingers–slow, cautious. I brushed the back of her hand with mine, craving the
contact.
She didn’t move away. Her skin was warm and soft.
The storm didn’t break between us. It just pressed closer.
And in the quiet of the library, where the court couldn’t touch us and time dared not interrupt, we sat in silence, and I kissed the delicate skin of her wrist. A silent promise that I just needed time.
AD
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