Third Arc (Fallen Heart) - 416. Goodnight, My King
He slowly brought his arms around her, finally, carefully. As if afraid he might crush her if he held too tightly.
She didn't pull back.
Didn't flinch.
Her voice barely rose above a whisper. "I won't hate you. Not for the power. Not for your past. Not for whatever curse people think you carry."
He didn't answer.
He didn't need to.
Because that was the moment his breathing finally slowed.
And the darkness… for once… stayed still.
They stood there for another beat. Arms wrapped around each other in a silence that didn't demand anything. No questions. No reassurances. No lies.
Just being.
And for Angel, that was rare.
Eventually, he pulled back just enough to look at her. The soft shadows of the chamber played across her face—moonlight sneaking in through the half-drawn curtain, brushing her skin in silver and shadow.
He let out a slow breath, voice quieter than before. "Let's sleep. I'm tired."
Rose tilted her head. Her gaze lingered on his face—not in judgment, not even concern. Just watching. Like she knew he didn't mean it. Not fully. But she didn't call him out on it.
She just nodded. "Alright."
Angel turned toward the bed. The sheets had been turned down earlier by the servant, but the room still carried that slight chill—the kind that crept up from the stone floors, even through thick rugs and long curtains. He unbuckled his belt and draped it neatly on the nearby bench.
Each movement was slow. Methodical.
It wasn't tiredness.
It was delay.
He didn't want to admit his thoughts were still racing.
Rose moved toward the wardrobe in silence, grabbing one of her light nightgowns—dark blue, silky, and simple. She didn't make a sound as she changed, turning slightly away from him out of habit, even though there was no modesty left between them.
She joined him in bed only a few minutes later, sliding beneath the covers with practiced ease. Her side was always warmer, somehow. Even in winter. Even when his magic swirled cold at the edges.
She didn't reach for him.
She just lay beside him.
Silent.
But her eyes didn't close.
She watched him.
Or at least... what she thought was him sleeping.
He had turned toward the window, one arm under the pillow, the other resting over his stomach. His breathing was calm, steady. His face unreadable.
But no.
Angel wasn't asleep.
He was pretending.
It was easier than letting her see the restlessness still clawing at the back of his skull.
The bracelet's weight had long since left his hand, tucked safely in the drawer. But the sensation lingered. Like a phantom touch. Like the memory embedded in its curve was still whispering just behind his ear.
I don't want to become his vessel.
I'm a human.
I want freedom.
I'm not a revenge tool.
Angel closed his eyes tighter.
It wasn't his voice. It never had been.
But it sounded too much like something he would've said once.
A long time ago.
When he still thought he had a choice.
A shift in the bed. He felt it. Rose leaned forward.
Then her breath close, warm—she kissed his forehead. Soft. Deliberate. A declaration more than a gesture.
"Goodnight," she whispered, barely audible. "My king."
He didn't move. Didn't open his eyes.
Just let the words linger in the space between them.
Like a promise.
Like an apology.
She eventually turned, settled into her side of the bed. Her breathing slowed. Sleep, or something close to it, finally wrapped around her.
But Angel…
Angel stared through the darkness.
Mind racing.
Heart quieter than it should be.
'I need to go to Erebus Mountain.'
The thought surfaced, sharp and unshakable.
Not for duty.
Not because of what Silvan had said.
But because something inside him—something older, buried, maybe not even his—was pulling him back there.
Angel turned his head slightly, just enough to look at Rose's back.
She was sleeping soundly now. Or at least… not faking it like him.
He wanted to touch her. Just a hand against her waist, her shoulder, her hair. Anything.
But he didn't.
Soon he'd have to go to Erebus.
Alone.
Because whatever was waiting for him there... whoever that woman was... he couldn't afford to bring Rose into that part of his past.
Not until he knew whether the thing he carried inside him… was really his at all.
Book Three END
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