The stars were already beginning to scatter across the sky like spilled sugar, the last ribbons of daylight soft and violet.

  In a tucked-away corner of the courtyard, far from the noise of the barracks and the rising tempo of war drums, a small table had been set for two. Lanterns hung from nearby trees, glowing like fireflies caught in glass. A bottle of elderflower wine sat uncorked, two goblets already waiting.

  Darius pulled out Imogen’s chair with a slight flourish. “For you.”

  She grinned. “How gallant.”

  He poured the wine, then settled across from her, watching the light dance in her eyes.

  They sat for a long moment in silence, not needing words.

  Then Darius reached across the table, brushing his fingers against hers. “You’re doing more than anyone could ever ask of you. And you’re still you. That’s… rare.”

  Imogen blinked, then smiled slowly. “You keep saying things like that, and I’m going to think you’re in love with me or something.”

  “Oh, I definitely am,” he said, voice low, warm, teasing.

  She blushed, trying, and failing, not to look completely smitten.

  And above them, the stars just kept coming. One by one. Quiet, ancient witnesses to something gentle and growing.

  Imogen swirled her wine slowly, watching the amber liquid catch the lantern light. Her lips curved in a faint smile, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes.

  Darius noticed.

  “Alright,” he said gently, setting down his goblet. “What’s on your mind?”

  She hesitated for a moment, then sighed, leaning forward, elbows braced on the table.

  “Earlier today… at the training grounds,” she started. “Malachite sparred with Jorn, her old partner. You’d have laughed; he told her he thought she’d traded her hammer in for a dress.”

  Darius chuckled low. “Sounds like Jorn.”

  “Yeah, well… he pinned her. She’s still recovering, and she was being cautious. But the timing…” Imogen paused, biting her lip. “Axel walked in right as it happened.”

  That got his full attention. “And?”

  “Elise was with him.”

  Darius leaned back slowly, frowning.

  “Malachite froze when she saw them. Axel did too. And Elise ugh, she made this smug comment about how she wasn’t surprised Malachite lost. Before Axel could say anything, Jorn spoke up, tried to diffuse it, and said it was just sparring. But then he threw his arm around Malachite, super casual… except it wasn’t. He looked Axel right in the eyes while doing it.”

  Darius exhaled sharply. “That man has no idea how dangerous that is.”

  Imogen nodded. “Axel looked ready to break something. Or someone.”

  “And Malachite?”

  “She didn’t say anything. She just stood there. Then, right as Axel and Elise were leaving Jorn called out to her. Told her he’d see her for dinner.”

  Darius groaned softly, running a hand through his hair.

  “That’s not all,” Imogen said, quieter now. “Axel… lost it. Not like screaming. But he snapped. Said something about a cheap necklace Jorn must’ve given her and accused her of pushing him away. It wasn’t fair, not really, but it was honest. He was hurting.”

  Darius’s jaw tightened. “And Malachite?”

  “She fired right back. Told him to get over himself. Called him out for hiding behind Elise. They both said things they didn’t mean, and then…” She sighed. “I tried to step in. And I think Axel thought I was taking her side.”

  “You were taking her side.”

  Imogen met his gaze. “She’s my sister.”

  “I know,” Darius said, reaching across the table to take her hand. “And I love that about you. But Axel’s not used to being vulnerable. Not like this. Especially not when it matters.”

  “He looked wrecked, Darius. Like… like someone had pulled the ground out from under him.”

  Darius nodded slowly, brow furrowed. “I’ll talk to him. But I won’t force them. That’s not how the bond works. She has to want it too.”

  Imogen gave him a tired smile. “You always know exactly what to say.”

  He returned the smile, “I just know what it’s like to love someone and be terrified you’ll lose them before they realize how much they mean to you.”

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  Her breath caught slightly at that, and the air between them warmed in a new, tender way.

  “I’m glad you didn’t give up on me,” she whispered.

  “Never,” he said, lifting her hand to kiss her knuckles. “Not in a thousand lifetimes.”

  The wine was half-forgotten now, the plates barely touched.

  The air had cooled, but not unkindly. It wrapped around them like a soft cloak, scented with honeysuckle and distant woodsmoke. Crickets hummed in the background, and the stars above shimmered brighter than ever as if the heavens themselves had decided to slow down just for them.

  Darius stood first, extending a hand to her with a small, crooked smile.

  “No music,” he said, “but I’d still like this dance.”

  Imogen raised an eyebrow, laughing softly. “You’re just trying to get out of finishing your meal.”

  “Maybe,” he teased. “But mostly, I just want to hold you.”

  She slipped her hand into his, rising to meet him in the center of the courtyard. No grand gestures. No royal formality. Just him. Just her. Two heartbeats in time.

  He pulled her close, one hand at her waist, the other cradling hers and they began to sway in the quiet, the world around them falling away.

  Imogen rested her head against his chest, feeling the slow, steady rhythm of his heart.

  “You’re warm,” she murmured.

  “You’re everything,” he replied.

  They danced for minutes, or maybe hours. The moon climbed higher. The lanterns flickered in the trees. And the courtyard, once echoing with tension and talk of war, was now filled only with the soft sound of boots on stone and two lovers breathing in sync.

  When Darius bent to kiss her, it wasn’t urgent. It was reverent like a vow.

  Imogen kissed him back, arms winding around his neck as the stars blurred behind her lids.

  Whatever came next, whatever the war brought… she had this.

  She had him.

  And in this moment, that was everything.

  The gentle calm of the night was a distant memory as the warm light of the morning dawn streamed through the tall windows of Darius’s study, casting long golden beams across the stone floor but the mood inside was anything but golden.

  Darius stood with his arms crossed behind his back, spine straight, shoulders taut. His expression wasn’t angry. It was something worse.

  Disappointed.

  Axel stood to the left of the room, posture tight, jaw clenched. His arms were crossed, but he wasn’t looking at Darius or anyone else. His eyes were fixed on a crack in the floor.

  Malachite stood across from him, her stance rigid but stubborn. Arms folded, brow low, her gaze flicked between Darius and the wall behind his desk. She was clearly trying not to show how rattled she was. Not quite succeeding.

  “You two,” Darius began, his voice cool and controlled, “are among the most capable warriors in my command. You’ve each bled for this cause. Protected this kingdom. Earned your titles.”

  Neither of them responded.

  He took a step forward, letting the weight of the moment hang heavy.

  “But yesterday, you acted like children. And I cannot afford children on my battlefield. Not now. Not with what’s coming.”

  Axel’s jaw ticked.

  Malachite’s fists clenched tighter.

  “You don’t have to like each other right now,” Darius continued, his tone sharper now. “But you will respect each other. Because if either of you lets your personal drama spill over into a mission, and someone dies for it-” He stopped, nostrils flaring slightly.

  “Then you’ll answer to me. Not as your king. As someone who trusted you. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, Your Majesty,” Malachite said stiffly.

  Axel nodded once, still not looking at her. “Yes.”

  Darius let the silence stretch another moment, just to make sure the message sank in.

  Then, more softly: “You’re both better than this. And whether you see it or not, you care about each other. That’s not a weakness. But letting it fester until it poisons everything around you? That is.”

  He moved toward the door, pausing before opening it. “Now, go cool off. Separately. And when I call you again, I expect two warriors. Not two broken hearts pretending they’re made of stone.”

  He opened the door, not needing to say another word.

  Darius turned as if to leave, but Malachite shifted her weight and lifted her chin.

  “I just wanted to say-”

  He held up a hand.

  “Not now, Malachite.”

  The words were clipped. Cold. Final.

  But it wasn’t the words alone that hit her- it was the way his tone dropped, all warmth gone. It wasn’t Darius, the second son of dragons who once ruffled her hair when she was small. It wasn’t the man who’d bled beside her on the battlefield.

  It was the King.

  And that tone made her feel small. Like a soldier who had stepped too far out of line. Like a problem to be contained, not a person who was hurting.

  Malachite’s throat tightened, her jaw twitching as she looked away quickly.

  Axel’s head snapped up.

  “Hey-” His voice came out harder than intended, almost a growl. “She’s trying to speak. Maybe you should let her.”

  Darius’s gaze turned to him, sharp and unreadable.

  For a breath, it was tense. Three dragons, old wounds, and raw emotion in a room too small to hold it all.

  Then Darius exhaled, stepping fully back into his kingly calm, but the flicker of guilt behind his eyes didn’t go unnoticed.

  “You’re dismissed,” he said, this time softer.

  Malachite turned first, silent as she moved for the door.

  Axel lingered, glaring for a second longer before following.

  And though they left in silence, the air between them was charged with anger, confusion… and something still unspoken.

  The hallway was dim, lit only by the early morning light spilling in through the stained glass along the east wall. Footsteps echoed softly off stone as Malachite walked, a little too fast.

  Axel followed, silent.

  But the silence wasn’t peaceful. It was thick. Tense. The kind of silence that made your thoughts louder than you wanted them to be.

  He caught up to her at the end of the corridor. Didn’t say a word. Just moved to pass her.

  That stung. Gods, that stung.

  Malachite’s breath hitched and before he could take another step, she reached out and caught his hand.

  Her fingers wrapped around his wrist gently, like she wasn’t even sure she had the right to.