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The soft murmur of early morning filtered into Alara’s room, faint light breaking through the heavy curtains. She lay cocooned in the thin blanket, her breath steady, her body finally at rest after days of relentless tension. The world outside seemed distant, muffled, like a dream she wasn’t quite ready to wake from.
A faint creak shattered the silence.
Her eyes fluttered but didn’t open. Maybe it was just her imagination. The sound came again, this time sharper, accompanied by the quiet rustle of movement. Alara’s eyes snapped open, her heart lurching. The first thing she saw was a figure near her bed—a man.
She sat bolt upright, clutching the blanket tightly against her chest. “What—” Her voice cracked, still thick with sleep. “Who—?”
The man stepped closer, his features becoming clear in the dim light. Rufus. Of course, it was Rufus.
Her voice sharpened as her confusion turned to indignation. “What are you doing here?” she hissed, glancing wildly toward the door. “How did you—”
“The window,” he cut in smoothly, gesturing over his shoulder. A flicker of a smile played on his lips, entirely too casual for the circumstances. “You really should lock it.”
Her mouth opened, then closed. She didn’t even know how to respond to that. “The window?” she repeated incredulously. “Why—why are you here?”
“Relax,” Rufus said, crouching slightly so they were eye level. “I didn’t come to cause trouble. I came because we’re out of time.”
Out of time? Her heart sank at his words. Of course, he was here to talk about Rasa. He always had some plan, some scheme. She pulled the blanket tighter, as though it might shield her from the weight of whatever he was about to ask. “What are you talking about?”
“We’ve got a chance to get her out,” he said, his voice soft but insistent. “But I need you, Alara.”
Her stomach twisted. “Me?” Her voice rose slightly, and she forced herself to lower it. “Why me? What could I possibly do that you can’t?”
“You’re Du’lan’s assistant,” he replied simply, as though that answered everything. “You have access, trust—well, more trust than the rest of us could ever dream of. You can go places no one else can.”
She shook her head, disbelief flooding her thoughts. “That’s insane. If I get caught—”
“You won’t,” Rufus interrupted, his voice quiet but firm. He moved closer, his expression softening as his eyes locked onto hers. “I wouldn’t ask this of you if I thought there was any other way. But this is it, Alara. This is our only chance.”
Her breath hitched. The intensity in his gaze unsettled her, made her pulse race in a way that had nothing to do with fear. “What’s the plan?” she asked, her voice barely more than a whisper.
“I’ll create a distraction,” he said. “Something big enough to pull the guards away from the dungeons. In the chaos, you use your position to get to Rasa and get her out. I’ve got a safehouse nearby. We’ll meet there.”
She stared at him, her heart pounding. It sounded so simple when he said it, like he wasn’t asking her to risk everything. “And if it goes wrong?” she asked quietly. “What happens to me then?”
His voice softened further, his words almost a murmur. “Then I’ll make sure it doesn’t fall on you. I’ll take the blame. You matter too much to lose, Alara.”
Her breath caught at his words. You matter. The way he said it, like it was the most natural thing in the world, sent warmth blooming in her chest. But she couldn’t let herself believe it. Not now.
“Why do I feel like this is about more than just Rasa?” she asked, her voice trembling slightly.
Rufus hesitated, and for the first time, she saw his usual confidence crack. He reached up, his hand hovering near her face as if seeking permission. When his fingers brushed her cheek, it was the faintest touch, but it sent a jolt through her. Her first instinct was to pull away, but she didn’t. She couldn’t.
“Because it is,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “You’re more than just part of this plan, Alara. You’re—” He broke off, his jaw tightening as though he was fighting against himself. “You’re everything.”
Everything.
Her heart stuttered, her thoughts a chaotic swirl of confusion, fear, and something she couldn’t name. No one had ever looked at her like this. No one had ever said words like that to her. She felt exposed, vulnerable, and yet… drawn to him. Against her better judgment, against every warning whispering in the back of her mind, she stayed.
He leaned in slowly, his gaze dropping to her lips, giving her every chance to stop him. She didn’t. His lips brushed hers, soft and hesitant, a question rather than a demand. For a moment, she froze. Then, as if something deep within her broke free, she leaned into him.
The kiss was unlike anything she had imagined—if she had ever dared imagine it at all. There was no perfect grace to it, no scripted moment. It was clumsy and raw, filled with too many emotions to name. But it was real. Her first kiss.
When he pulled away, his forehead rested lightly against hers. His breath was warm, uneven, mingling with hers in the quiet space between them. “I need you to trust me,” he whispered, his voice breaking through the haze that had settled over her. “Just this once.”
Her lips still tingled, her heart hammering so hard she thought it might break free. She tried to gather her thoughts, tried to pull herself back to reality. “Rasa comes first,” she murmured, her voice shaking but resolute. “This… it has to wait.”
A faint smile touched his lips, though his eyes remained heavy with something unspoken. “You said that last time,” he said softly, his hand brushing her cheek one last time before he pulled away.
He rose smoothly, the moment slipping through her fingers like sand. “Rest while you can,” he said, his voice lighter now, though it carried a weight she couldn’t ignore. “Tonight, we change everything.”
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And just like that, he was gone, slipping back through the window and into the world beyond. Alara sat frozen, her fingers brushing her lips as if to confirm the kiss had been real. Her first kiss. A kiss that left her shaken and unsure of everything she thought she knew.
As the faint chill of dawn crept into the room, she pulled the blanket tighter around herself. But no matter how she tried, she couldn’t shake the warmth of his touch—or the echo of his words.
You’re everything.
What did that even mean?
A sharp knock at the door jolted her from her thoughts.
She froze, her pulse quickening. Had Rufus come back? No—this knock was too brisk, too deliberate. Du’lan. Of course, it would be him. “Coming!” she called out, her voice a bit higher-pitched than she’d intended.
Scrambling out of bed, she hurried to grab her clothes, heat rushing to her face as she realized how exposed she’d been when Rufus was here. Did he see—? She groaned inwardly, trying to push the thought away. It wasn’t as though she could change it now.
Quickly, she pulled her clothes on over her undergarments, her movements rushed and clumsy. The room still felt far too small, stifling with the lingering memory of Rufus’s presence. Shaking her head to clear her thoughts, she straightened her tunic and hurried to the door, her cheeks still warm.
She opened it, expecting to find Du’lan’s stern yet familiar face, only to feel her breath catch in her throat. It wasn’t Du’lan.
Dal’akar stood there, his ice-blue eyes sharp and unreadable as they met hers. For a moment, the world seemed to tilt. Déjà vu gripped her, and her mind flitted back to that other door at the library, the one she’d been surprised to find him standing behind.
“Good morning,” he said smoothly, his deep voice breaking the silence.
She forced herself to recover, gripping the edge of the door to steady herself. “Your Highness,” she said, her voice even despite her racing thoughts. “I—I thought Du’lan—”
“Has gone ahead with Captain Lockridge,” Dal’akar interrupted, tilting his head slightly. “They’re already looking into the wine barrels. I thought I might walk with you to join them.”
Her chest tightened. Being alone with him was the last thing she’d expected—or prepared for. “Of course,” she managed after a moment, stepping aside to let him enter.
As he moved inside, his gaze swept the room, lingering for a fraction of a second on the open window. His brow lifted, his expression unreadable. “You have an… unconventional way of airing out a room,” he remarked lightly.
Alara’s breath hitched, and heat crept up her neck. She rushed over to the window, fumbling to pull it shut. “I—I must’ve forgotten to lock it last night,” she stammered, her voice rushed and uneven. “I’ll be more careful.”
Dal’akar’s lips twitched as though he was suppressing a smile, but he said nothing further. The silence stretched as she straightened and turned back to him, her fingers still trembling slightly. “Shall we?” she asked quickly, desperate to move past the moment.
He nodded, gesturing for her to lead the way.
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The halls of the fortress were quiet as they walked side by side. The tension in Alara’s chest eased slightly as the cool air brushed her face, but the silence between them was heavy, filled with unspoken questions.
“How are you settling in here in Vernan?” Dal’akar asked at last, his voice calm but tinged with curiosity.
She hesitated, unsure how much truth to offer. “It’s been… an adjustment,” she said finally. “I didn’t expect to see you here when I arrived.”
Dal’akar raised an eyebrow, his expression faintly amused. “Oh? You didn’t mean to come to my coronation?”
Her chest tightened, but she shook her head. “No. I was just… looking for work. I thought you’d still be in Valmira. I didn’t expect you to leave the capital.”
For a moment, he studied her, his gaze thoughtful. Then he looked ahead, his steps slow and deliberate. “I almost didn’t,” he admitted. “I grew up in Valmira. It was all I knew. But I couldn’t stand the thought of holding my coronation there, surrounded by nobles who care more about appearances than truth. Here, at Vernan, it felt different. Less like playing a role.”
His words caught her off guard, a spark of familiarity striking deep in her chest. Her thoughts drifted back to the banquet at the temple in Eldralore—the stares of the nobles, their eyes heavy with expectations she could never meet. A short laugh escaped her before she could stop it.
Dal’akar turned to her, his brow furrowed. “What’s so funny?”
She shook her head, her lips twitching into a faint smile. “I just… I never expected you to be so relatable.”
A glimmer of surprise flashed in his eyes before it softened into something warmer. “Relatable,” he repeated, a faint smile curving his lips. “I’m not sure if that’s a compliment or an insult.”
“It’s a compliment,” she said quickly, her cheeks warming. “I just… didn’t think someone like you—someone in your position—could feel that way.”
He stopped walking, turning to face her fully. The faint smile on his lips deepened as his gaze held hers. “You should smile more often,” he said quietly. “It suits you.”
Her breath caught, her chest tightening as his words sank in. “I don’t have much to smile about these days,” she admitted softly, her eyes lowering.
Dal’akar’s expression softened further, a quiet understanding flickering in his gaze. “Perhaps that should change,” he said, his tone light but sincere. “I think the world could use more of your smile.”
Her blush deepened, and she looked away, her heart pounding. She didn’t know how to respond, didn’t trust herself to speak. Instead, she took a breath, forcing herself to keep walking, the weight of his words following her like a shadow.
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Rasa lay on the cold ground, her wrists aching from the iron cuffs that kept her chained. Her body was still, her eyes closed, her breathing slow and steady, as though exhaustion had finally claimed her.
But she was awake. Listening.
Bootsteps echoed down the corridor, deliberate and uneven. The faint murmur of voices followed, growing louder as two figures stopped outside her cell. The dull glow of the torches made their faces hard to discern, but their tones carried clearly through the cold air.
“…don’t see why he cares so much about her,” one guard muttered, his voice gruff with disdain. “If you ask me, we should just let her rot.”
The second guard, quieter and sharper, hissed in response. “Keep your voice down! Her cell’s right here.”
The first guard’s grumble softened, but his irritation remained. “She’s out cold,” he said dismissively, his tone lowering but still carrying an edge. “It’s not like she’s gonna hear.”
“Doesn’t matter,” the second guard snapped. “Check if you’re so sure.”
Rasa heard the soft scuff of boots as one of them moved closer. She willed her body to remain slack, her breathing slow and even, as though she were in a deep, untroubled sleep. The sound of the guard’s movements stopped just outside the bars, the weight of his gaze pressing on her like a leaden blanket.
“She’s out,” the first guard said after a moment, retreating slightly. “See?”
“Doesn’t mean you can go blabbing,” the second guard muttered, but his voice relaxed just enough to betray his relief. “Let’s just get moving. We don’t want to get caught down here.”
As the two guards resumed their quiet conversation, their voices dropped just enough to be harder to follow. “…not about her,” the second guard murmured. “…Rufus needs it convincing…”
“Convincing for who?” the first guard shot back, louder than before. “She’s not walking out of here alive, is she?”
A pause stretched between them, long and weighted.
“That’s not for us to worry about,” the second guard said at last, his voice clipped. “Just keep your mouth shut and do your job. Rufus has it under control.”
Rasa’s heart raced as their footsteps began to fade down the corridor, but she stayed completely still, her breathing steady, her face slack. She couldn’t risk even the smallest sign that she’d heard them. If she revealed her awareness now, it would ruin everything.
As the echoes of their voices disappeared, Rasa slowly turned her head, resting it against the cold stone. Her chest burned with the effort of remaining motionless, but she forced herself to hold the facade.
Rufus.
The name churned in her mind, sharp and cutting. He thought she was a pawn, something to be used and discarded. She had known better than to trust him, but hearing it confirmed so bluntly struck like a blow. Still, she would not crumble. Not now.
She had survived worse, and she would survive this.