For a moment, Kaelen says nothing.
He just looks at me.
The dim corridor light turns his eyes to shadowed gold. His chest rises slowly, like he's bracing for impact—but not the kind that wounds. The kind that changes everything.
"Nyriane," he breathes, my name like a vow.
I don't move. I don't speak again.
I simply take his hand and guide him inside.
The room is quiet. Moonlight spills across the bed, across the floor where my slippers lie forgotten. The air feels different—thicker, charged. Not with fear, but with something softer. Braver.
Kaelen stands in the doorway, hesitating.
"You don't have to—" he starts.
"I know," I whisper, stepping closer. "But I want to."
He lifts a hand and brushes the back of his fingers across my cheek. His touch is reverent, like I'm something fragile. Slowly, he leans in, pressing his forehead to mine.
His voice is hoarse. "Tell me to stop, and I will."
"I won't," I say, fingers curling into the fabric of his coat. "Not tonight."
His lips crash into mine like waves breaking against the shore we stood on only moments ago.
Yet his kiss is careful—achingly so. One hand cradles the back of my neck; the other finds my waist, anchoring me.
I undress slowly, silently. Kaelen watches me, his breath shallow, before removing his coat and beginning to unbutton his shirt—each movement deliberate, almost torturous in its restraint.
My gown slips to the floor with a whisper. His shirt joins it. I stand in only my undergarments, and he remains in his trousers, suspenders hanging loose at his sides.
When he lifts me into his arms and carries me to the bed, I don't look away.
I meet his gaze and let him see everything: the fear, the longing, the ache I've buried so deeply I nearly forgot it was there.
He lays me down with a gentleness that feels like a promise.
And when we come together, it isn't conquest—it's surrender.
Not to each other, but with each other.
We move slowly, like learning a language neither of us believed we'd ever speak. His hand grips mine tightly in the dark.
I whimper beneath his touch. Bit by bit, what remains of our clothing is shed. I let myself follow his rhythm, letting it carry me away. He is gentle, yet I feel the urgency beneath his restraint—something held back for too long.
Until it doesn't.
I lose myself in him, and his name becomes the only word I remember how to say.
When it's over, we lie tangled in silence.
His fingers trace the length of my spine—up and down, again and again. My head rests against his shoulder. I can hear his heartbeat beneath my cheek—steady. Certain.
I turn slightly, pressing a kiss to the edge of his jaw. He shifts, lowering his head until it rests in the crook of my neck.
"I'm not sure when my heart became yours," I murmur. "But I know that even if Saelow used every ounce of his strength, he couldn't destroy what we've become."
I shift again, facing him, my hand finding his cheek. Kaelen studies me, curious, quiet.
"Prove Craven wrong," I whisper. "Make me your strength… not your weakness."