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surielstea · 4 days ago

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Dancing With Fate pt.11

Read part one here.

Pairing: Nyx Archeron x TamlinsDaughter!Reader

Summary: Reader and Nyx meet again, this time exploring Velaris—and much more about their fates are revealed.

Warnings: Minor conflict, protective parents, forbidden love, and some kissing 👀

A.Note: I haven’t posted since last yearrr I am so sorry to all of you, but part two is finally here!! I hope you guys enjoy, it’s a little bit more fast paced but I wanted to speed it along so I could get to the actual good stuff. Make sure you read part one prior to this!

Word count: 7.1k

I was in my bedroom, rereading a book for the sixth time. It was the least favorite on my shelf, worn only from idle desperation rather than love. Father didn't often take me out to buy new books; when he did, it was always after much coaxing. I could go without him, but only with a sentry trailing me. And I hated inconveniencing them with what he called my "silly hobby." So, I waited until my father needed something from the town, and then I'd quietly slip a purchase into our errands.

It had been a week—exactly seven days—since the ball at the Dawn Court. Since I'd talked with a stranger until sunrise. It was strange, missing someone whose name I didn't even know. But I did. I missed the way he teased me, the way I could be me with him—unguarded and, for once, unjudged. My chest ached at the memory, yet I forced my attention back to the book in my lap, pretending not to notice how hollow the words felt tonight.

"I could take you to the bookstore, you know."

I jolted upright at the sudden intrusion in my mind, my breath catching at the unfamiliar—yet eerily familiar—cool tone.

"Who's there?" My whispered words sounded absurd even to me, as I scanned my empty room for a presence that couldn't possibly be real. My pulse thundered, but no one appeared.

"In your head, princess," the voice replied smoothly, amusement curling through every syllable.

My breath hitched. That voice... his voice.

"How are you doing that?" I whispered, my grip tightening on the book.

"Daemati powers," he answered, as though it were the simplest thing in the world.

Daemati. My thoughts raced. Only a few could wield that kind of power, and even fewer had the skill to enter a mind from such a distance, wherever he was. The realization sent a shiver down my spine. "Get out of my head."

"Let me take you to the bookstore, and I will."

"I can't go out." The words came out sharp, though I wasn't sure whether I was speaking to him or to myself. "My father would—"

"Your father isn't home, is he?" he interrupted, his voice dipping into a dry hum. "Come now, are there wards locking you in?"

"No," I admitted, frowning, disliking that he already knew that fact.

"Chains on your doors or windows?"

"No, but—"

"Then you can leave."

"It's not that simple," I snapped, then clamped my mouth shut, wincing at my own volume.

A quiet pause. Then, softly, "What happened to the girl I met at the ball? The one who wasn't afraid to sneak away and stay out until dawn?"

"This is manipulation," I grumbled, though my chest fluttered at the memory of that night.

"Is it working?" he purred, smug.

"Yes," I muttered under my breath, hating the warmth that pooled in my stomach.

"Good. Meet me at the Spring and Summer border."

Before I could argue, the connection snapped, leaving me alone in the quiet, moonlit room. I stared at the book in my lap, then closed it with a sharp thud and tossed it onto the bed.

I shouldn't do this. I couldn't do this.

And yet, I was already moving—slipping into boots, shrugging on my satchel, and inching my window open with careful fingers. The night air kissed my skin as I hoisted myself onto the sill, every creak of the frame sending a thrill of nervous energy through me as my feet planted on the roof below me.

The climb down the flower-covered lattice was agonizingly slow, the wooden structure groaning beneath my weight as I scaled the two-story descent. By the time my feet touched the ground, my heart was racing. I pressed myself into the shadows, my movements silent as I made my way past the lingering, half-awake sentries and through the edge of the wards.

Once outside, I winnowed. The magic tugged at my ribs, spinning me through space until I landed at the Spring and Summer border.

It wasn't hard to spot him. He was already there, leaning casually against a sunstone pillar, his wings catching the moonlight like black silk. Shadows played along the sharp lines of his face, accentuating the curve of his mouth as he smiled—a sharp, knowing thing that made my steps falter.

"Evening, princess," he drawled, pushing off the pillar with an ease that made everything about him look so effortless.

"You know my title, but I still don't know your name," I replied, crossing my arms in a poor attempt to mask the way my heart stumbled at the sight of him.

His grin widened, a wicked glint in his eyes. "Let's keep it that way for now. Mystery suits us, don't you think?"

I rolled my eyes, but before I could retort, his hand shot out, plucking something from my hair. He held it up between two fingers—a small, pale pink rose. "You've got a knack for dramatic entrances," he said, twirling the flower.

"Must've fallen when I climbed down the lattice," I muttered, taking the rose from his hand, though my fingers brushed his for a beat longer than necessary.

His brow arched in mock surprise. "You mean to tell me flowers don't just grow from your hair? And here I thought you were a goddess in disguise."

"Don't be ridiculous." I snorted, very un-goddess-like. "This, however, I can do." I cupped the rose in my palm, letting a sliver of my magic flow into it.

The transformation was instant. Vines sprouted from the stem, curling down my wrist in an intricate dance, tiny buds blooming along their length. The rose gleamed in the moonlight, glowing faintly with the life I'd breathed into it.

His smirk faltered, replaced by wide-eyed wonder. The silver light of the moon reflected in his gaze as he leaned closer, studying the vines with an intensity that made heat crawl up my neck. "Impressive," he murmured, his voice softer now. "What else can you do?"

I met his gaze, a grin tugging at my lips. "I'll tell you when you explain how you're able to read my thoughts."

The corner of his mouth twitched. "Touché," he said, the smirk returning as he straightened. He extended a hand toward me, his wings shifting slightly as if preparing for flight. "Shall we?"

"Go where?" I asked, tilting my head.

"To the bookstore, of course."

"At midnight?" My disbelieving laugh echoed in the quiet night. "They're all closed."

"Not in the Night Court." His grin turned wolfish, his wings flaring just enough to cast long shadows. "Come on, I'll show you."

I froze, my stomach twisting at the mention of his court. My voice dropped to a whisper. "The Night Court? I'm not allowed to go there. My father forbade it."

"Well," he said with a pointed glance at my boots, "he also forbade sneaking out, and yet, here we are."

His smile was the very definition of trouble, but it faltered when he caught the hesitation in my eyes. The sharp edges of his expression softened. "We don't have to. If you want, I'll winnow you right back to Spring. No harm done."

My lips parted to refuse. To tell him I couldn't, I shouldn't. But the way he watched me, that glint of challenge in his gaze, made something reckless and wild spark to life in my chest. Against every ounce of better judgment, I stepped forward and slipped my hand into his.

"No," I said softly. "I want to."

His fingers tightened around mine, warmth spreading up my arm. "Just one question before we go," I said, my voice light but curious.

"Anything," he replied, his tone low and almost teasing.

"Are there monsters in the libraries there? Creatures made of nightmares?"

His chuckle was deep and smooth, like a shadow curling around the edges of my thoughts. "Bryaxis?" He grinned. "They're a friend."

I stared at him, horrified and awed all at once. "You made friends with a nightmare?"

He tugged me closer, a wicked gleam lighting his face. "Oh, princess," he murmured, his voice dipping into something darker, more thrilling. "You have no idea the company I keep."

Before I could say another word, the world dissolved into darkness.

—

The Night court wasn't the stories my father had told me as a child at all. Tales of monsters crawling from the shadows and winged creatures coming to steal me away. Rather, it was breathtaking, even at first glance. The scent of night-blooming jasmine filled the air, mingling with the soft hum of laughter and music drifting from nearby streets. Lanterns hung in the air like suspended stars, casting a warm, golden glow over the cobblestone paths and vibrant market stalls.

I stumbled slightly as we landed, but Nyx's hand tightened around mine, steadying me. "Easy there, princess," he murmured, the warmth of his voice grounding me.

I glanced at our joined hands, but he made no move to let go, so I didn't pull away.

"This... this is the Night Court?" I whispered, my voice a mix of awe and disbelief.

"Velaris," he corrected softly, his gaze flicking over the streets like it was a lover's touch. "The City of Starlight."

I didn't know where to look first. Everything was alive, vibrant, yet somehow soothing, like the city itself was breathing. The Night Market stretched out before us, a kaleidoscope of colors and sounds. Vendors called out to passing patrons, their stalls brimming with everything from exotic spices to delicate jewelry and hand-woven silk.

"You live here?" I asked, glancing up at him.

"Sometimes," he said vaguely, a shadow of a smirk tugging at his lips.

We began to walk, and almost immediately, heads started to turn. A merchant at a nearby stall beamed when she saw him. "Haven't seen you in weeks, boy!" she called, waving a hand towards us.

He shot the vendor a look, though it wasn't unkind. "Evening, Mrs. Fowley," he said quickly, guiding me forward before I could ask more questions.

But then another vendor spotted him. And another. Each one greeted him like an old friend, their faces lighting up as if his presence alone had brightened their evening.

"Back again, lad?" one called.

"Nyx, come here," Their voice cut through the chatter of the market. His steps faltered, his head turning toward the sound.

"Nyx?" I asked, my curiosity piqued as he guided me toward the voice, his hand still warm and steady in mine.

His eyes flicked down to meet mine, a grin tugging at his lips. "Cat's out of the bag, I suppose."

"Bat's out of the bag," I quipped, gesturing to the wings folded neatly behind him.

He let out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. "Well, aren't you clever," he said dryly, though the corners of his mouth twitched, betraying his amusement.

"Who's this pretty girl?" a female asked as we approached, the same one who had called him over. She held a tray of pastries, her expression kind and curious.

He—Nyx—looked at me then, really looked, with an intensity that made my cheeks warm. Before he could answer, a group of giggling girls stumbled down the path, one of them brushing past me and bumping me forward into his chest.

"My girlfriend," he said smoothly, his arm curling around my waist, pulling me closer.

I blinked up at him, startled by his words, but as I caught the wide-eyed, dismayed looks from the group of girls, understanding dawned.

"Ah, careful with this one, love. Just like his father with the ladies," the baker teased her tone light and amused as she gave me a playful wink. Nyx's arm tightened slightly around my waist at her words.

"Here, take a sweet. For whatever trouble he puts you through," she said, plucking a chocolate-covered croissant from her tray with a pair of tongs and holding it out to me.

I hesitated for a moment before accepting the pastry, a blush creeping up my cheeks. "Thank you, Miss," I said softly, my fingers brushing hers as I took the treat.

She waved me off with a warm smile. "Call me Ressina. I run this stand for his aunt's bakery, and I have a feeling I'll be seeing more of you."

I nodded, smiling. "I hope so," I said sincerely, her kindness making the bustling market feel a little less overwhelming.

"Go on, then," she said, shooing us away. "Don't let me keep you."

Nyx didn't need to be told twice. His hand remained firm at my waist as he steered me back down the path, away from the stand.

I glanced up at him, raising a brow as I bit into the croissant. The pastry was perfect—flaky, buttery, and rich with chocolate that melted on my tongue. I made a quiet, appreciative sound before speaking. "You're popular, aren't you?"

He cleared his throat, quickening his pace as though trying to escape the conversation. "They're just friendly here."

"Friendly?" I teased, a mischievous lilt in my voice. "You must be their favorite customer—or maybe something more. Should I be jealous?"

His wings twitched, and a faint blush crept up his neck. "Are you jealous, princess?"

I scoffed, shaking my head. "Hardly," I grumbled before taking another large bite of the delectable pastry.

"The baker is a family friend," he admitted, his voice quieter now. "She seemed to like you."

"Plenty seem to like you," I muttered under my breath, finishing the last bite of the pastry. "Boyfriend?"

He cringed slightly, his expression sheepish. "Sorry. Those girls have been following me for weeks. I didn't want you to have to deal with them."

I grinned, delighting in his discomfort. "You know, if you wanted to keep a low profile, you're not doing a very good job of it," I mumble, finishing off the croissant and debating licking my fingers since it was so delicious.

He shot me a sidelong glance, his smirk returning with a wicked edge. "Jealousy looks good on you, princess."

I rolled my eyes, but the warmth spreading across my cheeks betrayed me.

We turned a corner, the bustle of the market fading behind us as we approached a cozier part of the street. Nyx slowed his pace, guiding me toward a small building nestled between two larger shops. A golden sign hung above the door, marking it as a bookshop.

I paused, taking in the sight. The windows glowed softly, and through the glass, I could see shelves upon shelves of books, their spines glinting like hidden treasures. My heart swelled at the sight.

Nyx pulled the door open, motioning for me to step inside. "After you."

The scent of parchment and ink greeted me like an old friend, mingling with the faint aroma of spiced tea. The warmth of the shop wrapped around me, inviting and comforting, as though it had been waiting just for us.

I turned to him, my lips parting to thank him, but he spoke first. "Go on. Find something you like."

His voice was softer now, the teasing edge replaced by something gentler. I hesitated for only a moment before stepping further in, my fingers trailing over the spines of books as I wandered through the aisles.

Nyx followed at a distance, his hands tucked into his pockets, his gaze steady on me.

"You brought me all this way for a book," I said over my shoulder, smiling. "You're either very kind or very strange."

"Can't I be both?" he replied, his smirk resurfacing as he leaned casually against a nearby shelf.

I shook my head, letting myself get lost in the rows of stories, their endless possibilities calling to me.

I let my fingers dance along the spines of the books, tracing gilded titles and worn leather bindings. Each shelf seemed to hum with stories waiting to be told. A soft sigh escaped me, my heart swelling with quiet contentment.

Behind me, Nyx's footsteps were faint, his presence unobtrusive but unmistakable. I could feel his gaze, watchful and steady, as I explored.

"Find something?" he asked after a while, his voice softer now, almost reverent in the quiet of the shop.

"Not yet," I admitted, my fingers pausing on a particularly beautiful hardback, still pristine and painted gold along its edges. I tilted my head, reading the title.

A smile tugged at my lips. "This seems interesting."

Nyx stepped closer, his warmth brushing against my back as he peered over my shoulder. "Good choice," he murmured, his breath stirring the hair near my temple.

I turned slightly, catching his gaze. "Do you read?"

"Of course," he said, mock offense coloring his tone. "What, do I not seem the type?"

I bit back a grin, holding the book against my chest. "You seem like the type to skim for interesting bits and skip the rest."

His grin turned wicked. "What can I say? I’ve never been one for small talk,"

I rolled my eyes and turned back to the shelves, but his laughter followed me.

"Here," he said after a moment, reaching past me. His arm brushed mine as he plucked a slim, leather-bound book from the shelf. He held it out, his eyes gleaming.

I took it from him, studying the worn cover. Lost Letters Between Lovers. I shot him a look, heat creeping into my cheeks.

His smirk deepened. "Thought it might be useful for you. In case you needed inspiration."

"For what exactly?" I asked, raising a brow.

"Winning me over," he said smoothly, his wings giving a small flick.

I laughed, shaking my head. "You've got it all wrong. I'm the one who needs convincing."

"Is that right?" he drawled, his voice low and amused.

I turned back to the shelves, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of seeing the flush that had spread down my neck.

After a few more moments of browsing, I found another book that caught my eye. I tucked it under my arm, satisfied.

"Done?" Nyx asked, his tone deceptively casual.

"For now," I said, turning to him. He tilted his head toward the counter, gesturing for me to follow.

The shopkeeper, an elderly male with spectacles perched on the end of his nose, greeted us warmly. "Nyx, my boy. Bringing someone special to the shop, I see."

I froze, suddenly hyperaware of Nyx standing beside me. His hand brushed against mine as he reached into his pocket, pulling out a few coins.

"Just passing through, Mr. Tylan," he said smoothly, though there was a faint pink tinge to his cheeks.

Mr. Tylan chuckled knowingly. "Well, it's about time you brought a girl around, the missus and I were beginning to grow doubtful you’d ever meet the one.” He breathes through his nose as he speaks, expert hands wrapping the books in brown paper. “She has excellent taste."

Nyx handed over the payment before I could even think to rummage through my bag, his voice a touch gruff as he replied, "She does."

I glanced at him, startled by the sincerity in his tone. He didn't meet my gaze, instead picking up the small stack of books and tucking them under his arm.

"Come on," he said, inclining his head toward the door.

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Tylan,” I say with a soft smile as Nyx ushers me out the door.

“See you around, dear,” He gives me a simple wave.

It was odd, how anxious Nyx seemed in a place as welcoming as this. Everyone was friendly, and everyone knew him, perhaps he was afraid we’d run into the wrong set of people.

The cool night air greeted us as we stepped outside, the lively sounds of the market drifting faintly in the distance. Nyx fell into step beside me, the books still cradled in one arm.

"You didn't have to buy these for me," I said softly as he held them out to me, though he seemed more than willing to continue carrying them for me.

He shrugged, his wings shifting slightly as I took them and stuffed them into my bag. "I wanted to."

I studied him for a moment, the quiet confidence in his stride, the way the moonlight danced across his features. "You're not as insufferable as you pretend to be," I said, smiling.

His lips twitched. "Don't let it go to your head, princess."

We walked in comfortable silence for a while, the books pressing against my side with a comforting weight. Finally, I glanced at him, curiosity tugging at me.

"Why did you bring me here?"

He hesitated, his steps faltering for just a moment before he recovered. "You seemed like the type who'd like it. Thought it might make you smile."

I stared at him, warmth blooming in my chest. "You thought right."

His smirk softened into something gentler, something more real. "Good."

As we reached the edge of the market, I found myself wishing the night didn't have to end.

"Nyx," I called softly, stopping in my tracks.

He turned, dark brows lifting in question, the moonlight catching in his vibrant blue eyes.

"Thank you. For tonight," I said, the words carrying more weight than I expected.

His gaze held mine, something unspoken flickering between us. Then he smiled, and it felt as if the stars themselves had leaned in to listen.

"You think it's over already?" he asked, a teasing lilt in his voice.

I tilted my head, curiosity piqued. "What else could you possibly have planned?"

He glanced skyward, his expression unreadable. Then, without warning, he slid his hand into mine, his grip warm and steady, and winnowed us away.

The world shifted. The cool night air nipped at my skin, sharper here, and I realized we were higher—much higher. Thin air filled my lungs as I took in our new surroundings.

"Where are we?" I asked, turning in place. Encircling us were jagged rock formations, a barren beauty carved by time.

"Look up," he said simply.

I frowned but obeyed, tipping my head back. My breath hitched as the heavens unfolded above me, brighter and closer than I'd ever seen them. The stars weren't merely distant pinpricks of light—they blazed like fireflies caught in an eternal dance, constellations shimmering with unmatched clarity.

"Beautiful," I whispered, unaware the word had even left me.

"Indeed," he murmured.

I turned to him, startled to find him already staring at me. His gaze held the same reverence I felt for the stars, and my heart skipped.

I managed a soft smile, then let my eyes drift back upward, unable to tear myself away from the galaxy stretched endlessly above.

"Come here," he said gently, tugging my hand.

Only then did I realize we were still connected, his touch grounding me even as my mind reeled at the beauty around us. He led me to a rocky outcropping, the path winding into a shallow cave. For a moment, the stars disappeared behind the jagged stone ceiling, and I frowned.

But then we emerged into an open chamber, a perfect circle carved into the roof. It was as though someone had reached into the earth and torn a hole, desperate to preserve this view of the night sky. The chamber's walls cradled us, offering shelter without stealing the stars.

Nyx guided me to a makeshift bench—a cluster of smooth, square stones—and sat. I followed, still entranced, my gaze drawn skyward as if bewitched.

"I used to come here when I was younger," he said after a moment of quiet. His voice was low, intimate in the stillness. "I'd forgotten about it until tonight. You reminded me it existed."

I tore my eyes from the sky to glance at him, curiosity tugging at me. "How could anyone forget a place like this?"

He smiled faintly. "It was my escape from, everything. My family. Expectations. I needed somewhere I could breathe."

I nodded, turning my attention back to the stars. "I get the feeling."

He bumped his shoulder against mine, drawing my gaze once more. "No one else knows about it. But I thought maybe you'd need a place like this, too."

Warmth bloomed in my chest, his words wrapping around me like a soft blanket. I glanced at him, and again, he was already staring at me.

I arched a brow. "You have a staring problem, you know."

His lips curved into a smirk. "Do I? I hadn't noticed."

I rolled my eyes, chuckling as I leaned my head against his shoulder.

Together, we gazed upward. He traced the constellations with his words, his voice soft and steady, while his thumb brushed gentle circles over the back of my hand. Each star above felt like it had been hung there just for us, as if the universe had paused to watch this quiet moment unfold.

For the first time in a long time, I felt peace.

"Nyx?" I asked softly after a few beats of silence.

He tensed ever so slightly at the sound of his name, a shiver rolling through him. I told myself it was because of the chill in the air.

"Hmm?"

"Who are you, really?"

His breathing slowed at my question, as if he were recalibrating, regaining control of a situation he hadn't anticipated losing.

"I have a feeling," I began, "that the power you used to peek into my head knows my lineage. It's only fair I know who you are, too."

He glanced at me, a cocky, almost childish smirk playing on his lips—a look that said, I'm not telling.

"Come on," I groaned, throwing my free hand out in frustration. His other hand still held mine, warm and steadfast. He hadn't let go, and I didn't want to, either.

"Don't you like a bit of mystery?" he teased.

"It's not a mystery when you already know who I am," I countered, arching a brow.

"Fair point, Princess."

Heat crept up my neck at the nickname, one he'd used since the beginning—since before he'd seen into my thoughts.

"You knew," I murmured, realization dawning. My voice wavered, the words trembling like brittle leaves in the wind. "You've known I'm a High Lord's daughter all along. That's why you're entertaining this, isn't it?"

I pulled my hand from his and stood abruptly, my heart hammering in my chest.

His brows furrowed as he looked up at me, confusion—and something like hurt—flashing in his eyes. "What?"

"Don't play clueless now." My voice rose, a mixture of anger and humiliation bubbling to the surface. "You've known exactly who I am. That's why you're showing me the stars, why you're charming me. You're trying to secure a seat on my father's throne."

"You think I'm charming?" he quipped, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

I spluttered, words dying on my tongue. "That's not the point—"

"Look," he cut in, his tone steady but laced with urgency. "Yes, I've known who you were from the start. I won't deny that. But, Princess, believe me when I say the last thing I want is your father's throne."

"Why should I believe you?" I snapped, crossing my arms. "You've done nothing but lie to me since we met. Why should I trust anything you say now?"

"Because I didn't want you to see me differently," he admitted, his voice quieter now, raw. "Because of who I am."

I froze, my anger wavering. My voice softened. "And who, exactly, is that?"

"The heir to the Night Court," he said, the words falling from his lips like a confession he'd carried for too long.

The ground seemed to slip out from under me. My vision blurred for a heartbeat, but I blinked hard, willing myself to stay rooted in the moment.

My father had warned me relentlessly about the Lord of Night—engraved the warning into my mind until it became part of me. The Night Court was treacherous. Its people were dangerous.

But he lied about the court. About its beauty.

Perhaps he lied about its people, too.

"Gods, I’m sure a fool.” I sighed, putting everything together. “Nyx Archeron," I said slowly, his name foreign and familiar on my tongue.

He nodded, watching me intently. "When I approached you on the balcony, I didn't know who you were. I swear it. But as we talked, I got comfortable, let my power stretch a bit further. Halfway through the night, I realized who you were. But I... I didn't want to ruin it. I didn't want our parents' feud to dictate—this."

"This?" I asked faintly, though I didn't need clarification.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I didn't want you to find out like this. I can take you home, if you'd prefer."

Disappointment weighed in his tone, a stark contrast to the teasing arrogance I'd grown used to.

I wasn't mad at him for his lineage—he had no control over that. I wasn't even mad he'd lied. I was mad he hadn't told me sooner. Mad that it cast a shadow over everything we'd shared tonight, turning our conversations into something that felt artificial.

My shoulders slumped, the fight leaving me as quickly as it had arrived. I lowered myself back onto the bench beside him.

"I want to start over," I said, my voice hesitant but firm.

Relief washed over his features, and he relaxed slightly, though he kept a cautious distance. "I'm sorry for lying," he said, his words softer now, more earnest. "I was, nervous."

Something told me that wasn't an emotion he felt often.

"I know," I said, surprising myself with how much I meant it. Perhaps I was the only person who could.

Taking a steadying breath, I turned to him. "It's nice to meet you, officially, Nyx," I said, a tentative smile tugging at my lips.

"Likewise, Princess," he replied, mirroring my smile.

And in the silence that followed, we both silently agreed to leave the past behind us, if only for tonight.

Nyx leaned back, resting his arms on the bench as he looked up at the stars. "You know, I've never interacted with someone who’s an heir too. Should I be bowing?"

I smirked, tilting my head as I looked at him. "Oh, absolutely. A bow is essential. Maybe even throw in a grand speech. Something like, It is my great honor to meet the Princess of the Spring Court."

"That's a tall order," he said, his lips curving into that infuriatingly smug grin. "Would a wink and a smile suffice?"

I scoffed, leaning forward and propping my chin on my hand. "You'd probably trip over your own feet if you tried to bow."

"Is that a challenge?" he asked, one brow arching in amusement.

"It's an educated guess," I shot back, crossing my arms.

He leaned in, his voice lowering conspiratorially. "You know, for someone who called me charming earlier, you're being awfully cruel."

Heat flooded my cheeks, but I refused to look away. "I said no such thing."

"Oh, you definitely did." He grinned, leaning even closer. "You think I'm charming. Admit it."

"Nyx—"

"Say it, Princess."

I narrowed my eyes, pretending to deliberate. "You know what? Fine. I think you're charming, in the same way a stray cat is charming when it's begging for food. Annoying, persistent, but kind of hard to ignore."

He chuckled, his shoulders relaxing fully, the tension leaving the both of us. "Fair enough. But if I'm a stray cat you're certainly a rabbit."

I blinked, caught off guard. "A rabbit?"

He nodded, his grin widening. "Cute, curious, and way too confident for your own good."

"Confident?" I repeated, laughing. "This coming from you? The heir of the Night Court who decided to winnow me across Prythian on a whim?"

"That was a calculated risk," he said smoothly, though the glint in his eyes gave him away.

"Calculated risk, my ass." I shook my head, unable to hide my grin. "You're lucky I haven't punched you yet."

"Oh, Princess," he drawled, leaning closer, his voice dropping to a low, teasing murmur. "If you wanted an excuse to get your hands on me, you could've just asked."

I opened my mouth to retort, but the words caught in my throat. His proximity was... distracting.

The air shifted, the playful banter giving way to something quieter, heavier. His gaze locked on mine, and I swore the world shrank to just the two of us, the stars above fading into the background.

I cleared my throat, trying to ignore the way my heart was suddenly racing. "You're ridiculous."

"I offered to take you home," he said softly, his thumb brushing idly over the back of my hand and I wasn’t sure when they intertwined again, "and yet here we are." His tone was teasing, but there was something else beneath it. Something real.

I didn't answer, my throat suddenly tight. He was too close now, his presence overwhelming in a way that wasn't entirely unwelcome.

Before I could overthink it, his hand moved, brushing a strand of hair away from my face. His fingers lingered at my temple, his touch featherlight.

"Nyx..." I breathed, not even sure what I was about to say.

But he didn't answer—not with words. Instead, he leaned in, his lips brushing mine in the gentlest, softest kiss.

It was tentative, as if he wasn't sure if I'd pull away. But I didn't. I couldn't help but kiss him back. It was foreign, but filling me with a warmth similar to the sun's morning rays.

When he pulled back, his eyes searched mine, his expression unreadable. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

I shook my head, my thoughts a tangle of emotions. "We can't," I blurted, though my voice betrayed me with its lack of conviction.

"I know," he replied, his voice heavy with something that felt like regret—but also determination.

Our eyes remained locked, mere inches apart. We really couldn't, not with who we were, not with who our parents were.

Neither of us seemed to care at that moment, and I don't know if it was me or him who moved first, but suddenly his soft lips were back on mine.

This time, there was no hesitation. His hand cupped my jaw, pulling me closer as his lips claimed mine. It wasn't soft or shy anymore—it was raw, urgent, as though the world might end if he didn't kiss me harder.

I felt myself melt into it, my hands tangling in his hair as he deepened the kiss, his free hand moving to my waist to hold me steady. The air around us seemed to shift, thickening, crackling with an energy I couldn't place.

Then it happened.

A snap, like a tether locking into place.

I gasped against his lips but didn't move away, the sensation overwhelming as something warm and ancient bloomed deep in my chest, spreading through me like wildfire. It was hard to put into words, but suddenly I felt connected to the male against me, connected to his emotions, his thoughts, his very soul. Tethered. Bound.

Nyx pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against mine as his breath came in quick, uneven bursts. His eyes were wide, filled with equal parts wonder and disbelief.

"You felt that too," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

I could only nod, my own breath shaking as I tried to process what had just happened.

The mating bond.

The realization settled between us like a living, breathing thing, as though it had been waiting for this exact moment to make itself known.

"Nyx," I began again, but he silenced me with a small, disbelieving chuckle.

He leaned in again, kissing me softly, the smile on his lips brushing against mine like a whispered secret. It was almost as if he couldn't stop himself, as if the bond was drawing him closer with every passing second. When he pulled back, his amusement lingered in his expression, though his eyes were heavy with the weight of what we'd just discovered.

"The gods have a cruel way of amusing themselves," he murmured, his voice laced with irony.

I sighed, our noses brushing as we remained impossibly close. "What are we supposed to do?"

"We'll figure it out," he reassured, his tone soft but certain. His hands, strong and steady, cradled my face, grounding me amidst the whirlwind of emotions coursing through me. "It doesn't have to change anything."

"But it will," I argued, my voice trembling.

"Yeah," he said quietly, his thumb tracing a soothing pattern against my cheek. "I know."

The ache in my chest was something new and raw, a longing that pulsed in time with the bond, an unspoken promise tying us together. It was overwhelming and comforting all at once. My eyes fluttered shut as I tried to sift through the torrent of thoughts crashing over me.

After a moment, his demeanor grew more serious, though his thumb continued its soothing path along my cheek. “We’ll need somewhere safe to be when we accept the bond.”

I tilted my head, my eyes fluttering open as I frowned at him

In confusion. “Safe?”

His lips quirked, a knowing look in his eyes. “I’ve heard stories of what happens to couples during The Frenzy. It’s, intense.”

A shiver ran through me at his words, not from the cold, but from the vivid images that his tone—and my imagination—conjured.

Nyx raised a brow, clearly catching the direction of my thoughts, but I quickly stammered, “Just cold.”

“Cold?” His smirk returned, though it was softer this time, laced with something tender. “Here.”

Without another word, he shrugged off his jacket and draped it over my shoulders. The warmth of it enveloped me immediately, carrying his scent—fresh air, cedarwood, and something uniquely him.

“Better?” he asked, his voice low as his hands lingered for a moment, making sure the jacket sat snugly around me.

I nodded, biting the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling too widely. “Thank you.”

“Anytime, Princess,” he murmured, his gaze lingering on me for a beat longer than necessary before he settled back, his hand casually brushing against mine.

And just like that, the air between us shifted again—lighter, easier, yet still charged with something deeper.

“We’ll figure this out,” Nyx said softly, his confidence unwavering.

Looking at him now, his jacket around my shoulders and a small, reassuring smile on his lips, I knew he meant it.

And then, as if he couldn't resist, he kissed me again.

This one was gentle, hesitant, but filled with so much care it nearly unraveled me. His lips lingered on mine, soft and warm, making it impossibly hard to focus.

"Lucien," I blurted out, pulling back suddenly.

Nyx blinked, his brows furrowing at my abrupt shift. "What about him?"

An idea began to form, one I clung to like a lifeline. "Lucien—you know him, don't you?"

"He's married to my aunt," Nyx said cautiously, his tone laced with curiosity.

I nodded slowly, the pieces falling into place in my mind. "My father lets me visit the Day Court now that Lucien is ruling there. Maybe... maybe I can convince him to let me stay with Lucien for a while. You could find a reason to be there too."

His lips pressed into a thin line, his mind clearly racing through the implications. "And when you have to return to the Spring Court?" he asked, his voice measured.

"We'll figure it out then," I said, shaking my head. The thought of leaving him made my chest tighten painfully, but I pushed through the discomfort. "I just... I want this. I want us."

His answer was immediate, the conviction in his voice struck a chord deep within me. "I do too."

"Good," I said, a small, tentative smile forming on my lips. "Then tomorrow, I'll talk to my father. In the meantime, you can talk to me using your Daemati powers. Can't you?"

He nodded, his sapphire eyes softening as they roamed over my face.

"We'll be fine," I said, my voice steadier now, the words carrying a newfound determination.

Nyx mirrored my smile, and for a moment, it felt as though the world narrowed to just the two of us. This male—who had teased me, infuriated me, and unraveled me in the span of a week—had somehow wormed his way into my heart. And now, with the bond tying us together, I couldn't imagine life without him.

"Are we okay with Lucien and your aunt knowing?" I asked, my voice dropping to a whisper as the thought hit me.

"They'd be the first people I'd tell out of my entire family," he said without hesitation.

"Me too," I agreed softly.

His thumb brushed against my cheek again, his touch both soothing and electrifying. "We'll be fine," he repeated as if trying to convince us both.

But as he said it, I believed him.

The warmth between us lingered as we sat on the bench, the conversation flowing back into the easy rhythm of banter. He teased me about my lack of subtlety in staring, while I reminded him that he was the one who practically glowed under the moonlight, making it impossible not to.

But the night was growing late, and the weight of reality began to creep in.

"I should get you back to Summer's borders," Nyx finally said, his voice tinged with reluctance.

I sighed, not wanting the night to end, but I nodded. "You're right."

He stood and offered me his hand, which I took without hesitation. "Three days," I said as we began walking out of the cave. "Meet me in Day."

He smiled, a flash of teeth and mischief. "Three days."

—

When we reached the border, the air seemed heavier, more final. I turned to him, feeling the pull of the bond even as I prepared to leave. I shrugged off the jacket he had draped over my shoulders and held it out to him.

"Here," I said. "Take it back. If my father sees it, he'll have questions."

He crossed his arms, smirking. "Keep it."

I frowned. "Nyx—"

"Nope. You keep it. Hide it if you're worried about your father. Or don't. Either way, it gives me an excuse to see you again."

I gave him a flat look, but his smugness only deepened.

"Nyx," I repeated, more firmly this time, shoving the jacket into his chest.

He caught it easily but didn't take it. Instead, he stepped closer, his voice low and teasing. "Princess, if you give it back, I'll have no reason to track you down. And that would be such a shame."

I stared at him, torn between exasperation and amusement. His logic was infuriatingly charming, and the grin he wore told me he knew he was winning.

"Fine," I relented with a dramatic sigh, clutching the jacket back to my chest. "You win."

His smile softened into something warmer as he leaned down, brushing a kiss against my lips. It was quick, light, and left me wanting more.

"Good girl," he murmured, his voice like a caress.

I huffed a laugh, shoving his shoulder lightly. "Don't push it."

But he kissed me again, this time slower, deeper, his hands sliding to my waist as he pulled me closer. I melted into him, my fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as his lips moved against mine.

"Nyx," I whispered against his mouth, the word half a chuckle. "I have to go."

"One more," he murmured, his voice husky with need.

I hesitated, but the bond between us tugged insistently, and I found myself nodding. "Fine."

This time, he kissed me like he wanted me to remember it, to carry the taste of him back with me to Spring. His hands framed my face as his lips claimed mine, the kiss lingering, searing itself into my memory.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against mine, his breathing uneven. "Three days," he whispered.

"Three days," I echoed, my voice soft, but my resolve firm.

With one last lingering glance, I winnowed back to Spring Court Manor, the taste of him still on my lips and his jacket clutched tightly in my hands.

My father was going to kill me.

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