Seraya arrived early this time.
She told herself it was only because she needed air, not because she wanted to see him again. Not because she'd spent half the night replaying their conversation and wondering why someone so frustratingly smug made her feel… almost human again.
The garden was just as wild and quiet as before, but he wasn't there yet.
She sat on the stone wall, fingers plucking at a sprig of rosemary, heart annoyingly light.
He arrived a few minutes later, sauntering in like he hadn't been the one waiting yesterday. Sword still strapped across his back. Same dark training gear. Same stupidly unfair smile.
"Trying to impress me with punctuality?" he asked.
"I wanted silence before you started talking."
He gave a low chuckle. "Brutal. You wound me."
"Good."
He walked over and sat beside her, closer than yesterday, but not too close. His presence was warm—like the sun filtered through clouds. And annoying.
Definitely still annoying.
"You keep coming back," he said after a moment.
"You keep showing up."
He looked at her, one brow raised. "So… do you flirt with all the palace guards, or just me?"
She smirked. "Don't you think the King would be mad if he caught me flirting with a guard?"
"Terribly. I've heard he's very possessive."
"Well, then," she said, turning to him with mock sweetness, "it's a good thing he has dozens of children from a dozen other concubines. I doubt he'd care about one more."
There was a flicker in his expression—gone so fast she almost missed it.
"You think he'd overlook it?" he asked.
She shrugged. "Why not? He wouldn't want me anyway. I'm not one of his simpering sycophants. I don't bow. I don't worship. I barely even smile."
He leaned forward, voice low. "I wouldn't be too sure."
The way he said it—like it meant something more—sent a ripple down her spine.
Seraya pulled back slightly, throat dry. "You talk like you know what he wants."
"Maybe I do."
She narrowed her eyes. "And maybe you're just another arrogant soldier trying to amuse himself."
His grin returned, soft and infuriating. "Maybe."
They sat in silence for a few beats, tension crackling like static between them.
His eyes lingered on her lips and she could almost feel like what they would be like against hers. She held her breath as he leaned forward.
"Same time tomorrow?" he asked, plucking a rose from the bush beside her, and offering the pink bloom.
She hesitated.
Then nodded.
"Yes."
She didn't take the rose, though his eyes seemed to sparkle from amusement. The slight rejection seemed only to intrigue him more.
She didn't know what to make of that.