The fire crackled softly in the hearth.
Aelia sat curled in the corner of Kael's private chamber, a velvet blanket draped over her legs, her eyes half-focused on the flames. She hadn't planned to be here. She'd come to ask him something — a simple question about the roses, about the mirror, about the room that remembered her.
But then the storm rolled in.
Rain hit the palace like thrown stones, loud and sharp. Thunder shook the sky, and something in the Hollow Realm — something buried deep — howled with it. Whatever it was, it wasn't wind.
Kael had opened the door before she even knocked. As if he had known she would come.
Now, he sat a few feet away from her, his long frame relaxed but alert, like a lion resting with one eye open. His black tunic was unfastened at the collar, revealing the edge of a scar that slashed down toward his chest.
He hadn't spoken since she sat down.
Neither had she.
But something in the silence felt full.
Alive.
---
"I don't like storms," she said finally, not looking at him.
Kael's voice was quiet. "The Hollow Realm doesn't either."
"What was that sound?"
His gaze flicked toward the window, the curtains swaying. "The past. Trying to get back in."
Aelia glanced at him. "That's cryptic, even for you."
He allowed a small smile. Not enough to soften him — just enough to remind her that somewhere inside the immortal king, a man still lived.
"You still ask questions," he said. "Most don't, after the first night."
"I'm not most."
"No," he said. "You're not."
The way he said it made her heart pause.
---
She pulled the blanket tighter, suddenly aware of how cold the room had become. The fire only lit the space directly in front of it; the rest faded into shadow.
"You don't sleep," she said.
"No."
"Do you dream while awake?"
He looked at her then. Really looked.
"Only when you're in the room."
Aelia's breath caught — just a small thing, a shift in her chest — but he noticed.
He always noticed.
---
Kael rose and walked toward the hearth. The firelight caught his features — sharp lines and soft weariness. He picked up a decanter of amber liquid and poured it into two small crystal cups.
He handed one to her, careful not to brush her fingers.
She took it anyway, brushing his fingers on purpose.
"You're afraid to touch me," she said.
"No," he said. "I'm afraid to want to."
---
She sipped the drink. It was warm and bitter, like memory. She wasn't used to strong spirits, but she didn't flinch.
Kael watched her, still standing. Still cautious.
"Sit," she said softly. "Please."
He hesitated only a moment before lowering himself onto the couch beside her. Not too close. But close enough that the heat between them was real.
"You should know," he said, "the palace listens to everything. The walls have voices. The floors remember footsteps."
"Let them listen."
"Aelia—"
She turned to face him, eyes calm, serious. "You said the realm is dying. But you're not."
He looked away. "Not yet."
"What if I don't want to be a symbol or a sacrifice?" she asked. "What if I just want to be a woman in a room with a man who looks at me like I'm sunlight in a world of shadows?"
Kael's breath left him slowly.
He closed his eyes.
And then, without warning, he reached out and touched her face.
His fingertips were calloused, but his touch was careful. Reverent. Like she might vanish if he blinked.
"Don't do that," she whispered.
"Do what?"
"Touch me like I'm a memory."
He opened his eyes.
And then he leaned forward.
---
It wasn't a fierce kiss. It wasn't rushed or hungry or desperate.
It was gentle. A whisper of a thing. His lips brushing hers like a secret too sacred to speak aloud. One hand on her cheek, the other on the back of her neck, pulling her into him as if gravity had finally found its way between them.
Aelia exhaled against his mouth.
She kissed him back — slowly, deeply, letting herself fall into that strange quiet warmth she hadn't expected to find in a cursed king.
The kiss lingered.
When they pulled apart, the room felt heavier. Charged.
Kael looked at her, his voice low and rough: "You don't know what you're doing to me."
She rested her forehead against his. "Maybe I do."
---
Outside, the storm began to ease.
Inside, two hearts thundered like it never ended.
---