My heart hammers against my ribs. The air thickens between us—charged, heavy, pressing against my skin like a physical weight. Heat floods my cheeks despite the chill radiating from him.
He sits at the edge of my bed now, elbows braced on his knees, hands dangling loose between them. Everything about his posture reads relaxed. Casual.
But the pulsing chains, like physical manifestations of his binding to his contract, flare bright enough to leave afterimages.
"You can't." My voice comes out rougher than intended. "Not yet."
Azrathiel holds my gaze. Doesn't blink. Doesn't look away.
"I grow tired of his continued breathing."
Something warm and dangerous unfurls in my chest. Almost makes me smile—almost.
I shake my head, reaching up to tuck loose strands of hair behind my ear. "The timing needs to be perfect. If you strike now, Vaelra will claim I orchestrated his death. She'll spin it to the settlement council, have me exiled or worse. I need to stay here. This is my father's home. Mine by right."
He rises in one smooth motion. Crosses the space between us faster than I can track.
Stands closer than he ever has before.
Close enough that I feel the heat rolling off him despite the shadows clinging to his frame. Close enough to see the gold flecks in his eyes catch the lamplight.
"Every moment we wait—" His jaw tightens. "—is another moment I watch you suffer."
My breath catches.
But this time I do smile. Small. Grim.
"I'm strong, Azrathiel." I tilt my chin up to meet his eyes properly. "I can handle suffering."
His tension hovers in the space between us for a heartbeat. Two. Then he steps back, breaking the charged silence with movement that feels almost reluctant.
"Perhaps—" He gestures toward my desk. "—this might improve your evening."
I blink. Turn.
A small wooden box sits where I'd thrown my cloak earlier. Carved dark wood, intricate patterns winding across the lid. I hadn't noticed it through the haze of fury when I'd stormed in.
My fingers brush the latch. The lid opens with a soft click.
Inside, nestled against midnight-blue silk, rests a single flower.
"A moonbeam lily?"
The gasp tears from my throat unbidden. I lift the delicate bloom with trembling hands—petals like spun glass, edges glowing soft silver-white in the lamplight. The stem pulses faintly with luminescence, as if holding captured starlight beneath translucent skin.
Azrathiel's voice drifts over my shoulder, warmer than before. "It blooms only in the night. Only when the sun has set."
I turn the flower carefully, watching light dance across the petals. Understanding clicks into place. "Only when you come to see me."
"Yes."
My chest tightens. "It's the most beautiful flower I've ever seen."
He moves closer again—back into that dangerous space where the air feels thin and my pulse thunders in my ears.
"Something you have in common, then." The words roll low and deliberate. "A rare beauty. Only in bloom under the right conditions."
Heat floods my face. My lips part as I draw breath, suddenly aware of how shallow each inhale has become. The flower trembles slightly in my grip.