The room is dark.
Too dark.
Not the hush of nightfall, but a smothering blackness—thick, suffocating, unnatural.
I try to move. My limbs are heavy, like they've been weighed down with chains I can't see. The air reeks—damp, metallic, tinged with rot. Like old blood soaked into cold stone.
Something moves.
A creak, slow and deliberate, like someone pressing down on a loose floorboard.
Then—silence.
My breath catches. I strain to listen, heart hammering in my chest. Another sound: the soft slap of bare feet across the wooden floor. Closer. Closer still. Each step echoes like a war drum in my ears.
I try to scream—but my voice is gone, strangled by dread. My body won't obey. I'm paralyzed. Pinned down by fear—or something far worse.
The footsteps stop.
Right beside me.
I squeeze my eyes shut.
I can feel it—them—looming. A presence thick enough to taste. The air shifts around me, disturbed by weight, by heat. A breath ghosts across my cheek. It's hot, foul, and wrong.
Then—hands.
One clamps down over my mouth.
The other grips my wrist like iron.
I thrash, panic exploding through me. My legs kick wildly beneath the sheets, a scream stabbing in my throat like broken glass.
The grip tightens.
I'm going to die. I can't breathe. I can't—
"Nyriane!"
The world shatters.
Light slashes through the dark like a blade. A voice—a real one, desperate and familiar—cuts through the nightmare. I jolt upright with a gasp, drenched in sweat, the sheets wrapped around me like a noose. My chest heaves. My skin burns cold.
The room is real. Solid. Bathed in the soft, forgiving moonlight. No shadows. No phantom hands. Just—
Kaelen.
At my side.
His chest rises fast beneath his shir, dark hair tousled, eyes wild and searching. One hand hovers inches from my shoulder, shaking slightly. The other is clenched tight at his side, knuckles white.
"You were dreaming," he says, voice low and raw. "Just a dream."
I blink hard, the memory still vivid—so vivid it scorches.
"It… it felt real," I whisper.
"I heard you scream. From the hall." He swallows hard. "You said someone was in here."
I nod. My lips tremble. "They grabbed me. I couldn't move. I couldn't breathe…"
Kaelen doesn't speak right away. He sits on the edge of the bed instead, his gaze scanning the corners of the room like he expects the shadow to return. When he finally speaks, his voice is quieter, almost reluctant.
"There's no one. You're safe now." he says cupping my face with both hands
But I don't feel safe. Not even close.
I bury my face in my hands, the echo of that breath on my skin making me shiver.
A pause.
Then, gently: "Has this happened before?"
"No," I murmur, shaking my head. "Not like this."
Kaelen rises. The light catches the tension in his jaw as he turns toward the door.
"I'll post guards directly outside your chambers. I'll finish my work on a timely manner so you aren't sleeping alone."
I look up sharply, throat tight. "You think it was more than a nightmare?"
He doesn't answer right away. His eyes flick to mine, dark and unreadable.
"I think…" he begins, then stops. "Sometimes the mind knows things before we do."
He doesn't elaborate.
He doesn't need to.
Kaelen lays down besides me, tugging at my sleeve he pulls me down besides him. He caresses my cheek and moves the hair away from my face.
"I'm here, don't worry, go back to sleep"
---
In the afternoon, he keeps his promise.
Kaelen takes me to the shore just before dusk. The sky is painted in violets and fire, the wind gentle, the sand cool beneath our boots. We walk in silence, side by side, the crashing waves filling the quiet like music.
I glance at him, his expression carved from stone.
"It's Saelow, isn't it?" I finally say.
Kaelen's brow tightens.
"He threatened me."
His lips part, then press into a thin line. "Not exactly," he mutters. "But our agents… we've heard whispers."
"Whispers," I repeat bitterly. "That he's coming for me."
Kaelen nods once. It's all the confirmation I need.
I stop walking. "Why? What could he possibly want with me now? I'm no longer a pawn he can marry off. I'm not a title he can trade. He has already disowned me"
"It's not about you," Kaelen says, stepping closer. "It's about me."
I blink. "What?"
"You've become exactly what Craven warned me about," he says, looking out at the sea. The wind pulls at his coat. "You've become my weakness."
My heart stutters.
"Kaelen, what are you saying?"
He turns to me. The storm in his eyes is palpable, fierce.
"I'm saying that if Saelow lays a hand on you—if he manages hurts you—I don't know what I'd do first." His jaw clenches. "Kill him… or myself."
I gasp. My hands fly to my mouth.
"Kaelen…"
Tears prick my eyes, and I don't know whether it's from fear or from something else swelling in my chest. I reach for him, my palm pressing against his chest—over his heart.
He covers my hand with his own. His voice is low, steady.
"This is just how I feel, Nyriane. I'm not asking for anything in return. I don't expect a reply. You don't owe me your heart just because I've lost mine to you."
He releases my hand gently.
"We should head back. Before it gets dark."
The walk back is long. Silent. The wind whistles through the cliffside path. Neither of us speaks. But our hands brush occasionally. And each time they do, my pulse skips.
At the estate steps, we part without a word. I climb toward the grand staircase. Kaelen turns toward the corridor, likely heading to the library.
But I stop him.
I reach out and catch his arm.
He freezes.
I pull him back toward me, silently leading him upstairs. His footsteps follow mine—uncertain but willing. Our hands remain clasped.
When we reach our shared chamber door, I turn to face him. The hallway is bathed in fading gold. The world seems to hold its breath.
"I want you to make me yours tonight."