Tenebrarum turned away, pulling up his pants and zipping them shut before reaching for his shirt.
"I see through you," she said, rising slowly from the floor. "Even with that hard shell you carry. No matter what you do… I don't know why, but I can't hate you." She lifted a hand, slowly licking the remnants from her fingers, then her lips, her violet eyes never leaving his back. "I think I love you."
The words hit him like a blow. Love. He'd heard that before—from other lips, in other rooms. It meant nothing. She meant nothing.
Aurelia took a soft, deep breath, the truth settling into her bones. More clearly now, she said it again:
"I love you."
He stilled—then remembered: his tunic was stained with blood, a dark bloom against the linen. A grim reminder of a world far removed from this chamber.
"Unfortunately for you," he said, his voice like winter marble, "I do not care. Love is but an underthing, a petty indulgence for humans. It is not meant for the likes of me."
"Tenebr—"
"Silence." The word sliced the air between them. "Whatever you believe passed between us is ash. And I thought I warned you—never speak my name. Know your place. You are nothing to me."
Her eyes changed—sharp, bewildered. Ash?
"Forgive me, Master, if my words offend. I believed… we had shared something."
"We shared nothing." Tenebrarum turned, his movements sharp as he drew a black coat from a carved cabinet—a heavy, caped garment that fell like a shadow. He fastened it over his bared chest with cold precision. "You are of no importance to me."
Aurelia parted, but no sound came. Tears welled along her lower lashes unwilling to fall. They had just joined bodies, shared breath and heat and release—and this was his epitaph for it.
She did not understand why the pain cut so deeply. Perhaps because she had taken so long to admit, even to herself, that she loved him—only to have the confession met with a blade of ice.
She had loved him for a long time.
Since the first moment she saw him—amidst the clatter of a hundred bronze in bags.
Since the first time she heard his voice—low, commanding, cutting through the din of merchants and slaves as though he owned the very air.
She had carried that love like a hidden amulet, a secret warmth against the chill of her days. Now, it lay shattered between them, as worthless as scattered coin.
Without another glance, he moved toward the door, his cape sweeping the marble like a final curtain falling between them.
"When you are done, close the door."
He turned the handle.
A soft click echoed through the chamber.
Then—silence.
The door was shut. He was gone. She was alone, his taste lingering on her lips like a bitter sacrament.
Aurelia fell broke—her legs gave way, and her bare body met the cold marble with a soundless thud. Her hair spilled like a pale curtain around her as she crumpled.
You're a fool… a fool.
The words echoed in the hollow of her mind. How could she have let Tenebrarum touch her? How could she have offered her throat to the very shadows she was raised to fear?
Tears fell without end, hot and silent. Her shoulders shook with the force of a sob she could not stifle, no matter how she tried to hold herself together.
A memory surfaced—sharp and tender: her father, lifting her small form into his arms, running through torchlit halls, his voice a desperate shield against the dark creatures that prowled the night.
And now here she lay, naked and broken, hopelessly in love with their crown prince.
"Breathe in. Out."
Aurelia whispered the words like a prayer, her chest rising and falling to their rhythm. Slowly, she rose, her gaze falling upon the purple gown pooled on the marble floor like a discarded dream. She lifted it as though it were made of ash and memory, sliding the cool fabric over her skin.
Her hands trembled as she attempted to fasten the corset, fingers fumbling with laces that refused to tighten. No matter how she strained, it would not close—as if her body had changed, or the garment remembered a different shape. After a long and fruitless struggle, she let her hands fall, surrendering to the loose drape of silk.
Then she saw it—her undergarment, torn and scattered on the cold stone. In that moment, she remembered: Tenebrarum tearing it from her, the sound of linen rending, his hands and her breath and the dark hunger beneath his mask. She had not simply undressed; she had been unwoven.
She snatched it from the floor, her fingers curling into a tight fist around the torn fabric.
I will forget you Tenebrarum. And one day, I will kill you.
Aurelia's eyes swept the room—a gallery of blades, spears, and shields glinting in the thin morning light. Then her gaze fell.
She pulled on her boots, the leather cool and familiar, and rose to her full height. At the door, she paused—one hand on the bronze handle, the other still clutching the torn linen. The small motion of pushing it open felt like the first step of an escape.
Calvus promised our escape would be this week.
Outside the chamber, she froze. She didn't recognize the hallway—high-ceilinged, torchlit, lined with mosaics she had no memory of seeing. She must still be within the palace, but nothing looked familiar. Her eyes had been fixed on him when he brought her here, on the gold of his mask and the dark promise in his stance.
Her legs trembled as if they were about to give way.
She feels pain from her waist down to her thighs and legs, all hurting due to the recent event.
Carefully, she tucked the torn undergarment deep into the folds of her gown, her knuckles pale with tension. Her eyes darted down the corridor—left, then right.
This was the second time she had been lost.
She looked a mess—hair loose, gown hastily fastened, eyes still glazed with the aftermath of him. If only she knew the path to her own chamber, she could slip back unseen.
"Are you lost… again?"
The voice was low, smooth—a sound that slid through the torchlit hall like a blade through silk.
She knew that voice.
Kaelen.
-----------------------------
To be continued...