Song vibe: Tonight (??) – Jin

  Warning: This chapter contains????????????

  __________

  VALENTINO

  The Rookery, Firestone Castle

  High in the tower above Firestone, Valentino stood in the rookery, winter's cold misting through the open arches and catching on the fine embroidery of his court coat. He stood tall, poised, gold earring glinting in the light—as he checked, once again, for any messages. Half the continent would know of the Ashen Blade's victory. Celestine would know I'm alive. Know to send a letter, like she always has.

  Same as yesterday—none.

  Celestine must be truly furious with me. She’s never left it this long, he sighed, turning from the balcony. When this has all died down, I’ll sneak in. Visit her—whether she’s in Renatus or Lux, I’ll find her. Get closure.

  Still, some foolish part of him clung to hope.

  A flicker of movement caught his eye—a silvark soaring through the sky. Firestone’s birdmaster, Faline, was not there to welcome the creature—but Valentino moved to the receiving perches.

  The bird landed in the rook—larger than a raven, with long ribbon-like tail feathers that shimmered faintly in the light. Its plumage shifted from dusk-blue to black, threaded with veins of silver. Its eyes glowed a deep, intelligent amber. Valentino set down a bowl of water and a neatly folded strip of dried, smoked meat laced with aetherroot.

  As the silvark ate, Valentino opened the skinfold on the creature’s chest and extracted the carefully folded paper.

  He saw Edwin’s sigil and exhaled. Not Celestine. Of course not. Valentino’s heart sank—twice in one glance. And whatever Edwin wrote… it sure as hell wasn’t condolences.

  With ink and feather quill, he noted the letter’s arrival in Faline’s logbook, then turned toward the spiral stairs. Halfway down, he nearly collided with Quintus.

  “I saw a silvark fly in…” the castellan huffed, catching his breath as he leaned against the wall. “You should have… waited for Faline. This is most… outrageous. Lord Nocturne will—”

  “I’ll take it directly to Lord Nocturne,” Valentino said coolly, brushing past him.

  Almighty, that old man’s a walking rulebook. Valentino ran his thumb along the edge of Edwin’s wax seal. Probably tracks how many times I blink a day—and sends Nocturne a full report.

  On his way toward the Lord’s Wing, he passed the apothecary—just in time to glimpse Nocturne carrying a tray of food inside. His eyes were shadowed with exhaustion, movements slow. His shirt was rumpled, sleeves rolled to the forearms, his steps stiff.

  Saphira lay asleep on the bed, and Nocturne paused, watching her for a long moment before gently closing the door behind him.

  He’s been at her side for two days now. Valentino paused—he had heard the news from Aurelian, but seeing it was different. He swallowed hard, heart squeezing in his chest. It’s not a wound you can bleed and be done with, Nox.

  Valentino exhaled. Should I go in? Watch her for a moment so Nox can get some sleep? His grip on Edwin’s letter tightened. If you want to be of use, take the pressure off him.

  Turning on his heels, he continued to Nocturne’s study—where six months’ worth of diplomatic correspondence and reports sat in neat, unopened stacks.

  He set Edwin’s letter on the centre of the desk and reached for the largest of the sealed packets.

  Better me than him, Valentino thought grimly, slicing it open.

  As he read, his thoughts wandered—unbidden—back to the last night he saw her…

  __________

  Six months prior...

  Guest Wing, Renatus Castle

  The rain that had drowned the revelry of Saphira and Nocturne’s wedding feast continued to fall steadily. Water streamed from the castle roof, and the scent of damp stone and beeswax candles lingered in the air. The humidity had broken, and cool air swept through the open window.

  In the shadows of Celestine’s chambers, Valentino sat with his legs stretched out, idly twirling the gold earring in his right earlobe. Not the first time I’ve climbed in. Hopefully not the last. He paused. Nocturne, damn you... by switching with you, going into the bed chambers with Daisy—this may well be the death blow to my relationship with Celestine. He exhaled. Let's see if I can charm my way out of this one...

  The space smelled like her—lilacs, rosewood, and orange blossom, a scent she always mixed herself. Beside her bed, Isolde Ravenshade’s Moonlight and Iron and her travel cloak, tossed aside, were still dusted with dirt from her reckless visit to his tent at Ashen Blade’s camp.

  The corner of Valentino’s mouth twitched. She’s so passionate. He touched the gold earring he wore after she accepted his proposal. By the Almighty, she frustrates me—but no woman has ever made me feel so alive.

  As he waited, a strange sense of loss filled him. I leave for the Shadowlands in the morning, he thought. I don’t know when—or if—I’ll be back.

  Her footsteps pounded up the stairs.

  The door swung open; Celestine stormed in, violet hair damp from the summer downpour. She froze, then hurled an iron cup at his chest.

  Valentino stepped aside, letting the cup fly past and clatter to the floor behind him. “Careful, love. That almost hit my best side.”

  “You lied to me!” she snapped. “Of all the spawnrotting women—Daisy?”

  “I didn’t sleep with her.”

  “So, I’m too stupid to recognise you in Nocturne’s cloak?” She grabbed another cup. "I saw you go into that chamber with her!"

  Valentino caught her wrists and prised the cup from her fingers. “Listen to me—we talked, I left Daisy alone. If I’d betrayed you, would I be sitting here waiting?”

  “Why all the secrets? I’m sick of it.” Her voice cracked. “Why didn’t Nocturne choose me? He was doing it for us—so we could—”

  “Be together?”

  She looked away.

  “What was your plan? Sneak around Firestone? Play pretend with Nocturne?” His tone hardened. “If you want a husband, you know the solution—finally say your vows to me.”

  Her eyes widened. “You can’t just ask me that like it’s nothing.”

  “I meant it the first time, and I mean it now.” Valentino stepped closer, golden flecks in his eyes catching the light. “Come live in the Mountains—as my wife—and we won’t have to keep secrets.” Valentino reached for her hand, steady. "You can’t expect me to keep taking ‘no’ for an answer."

  “Val, you’re a natural-born knight." Celestine stood frozen, tears slipping down her cheeks. "If I marry without Crassus’ blessing, I’ll be a social pariah.”

  “Then why did you accept my proposal? Did you never intend to marry?” He stepped closer, voice low. “Come with me tonight. Before it’s too late. We can start over, on our terms.” His eyes searched hers. "Tell me you still trust me—and I’ll make the rest work.”

  If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

  “I do.” She touched his hand. “Please tell me you don’t plan on killing Golgog.”

  “I gave Nocturne my word.” His pulse hammered. Still, his hands stayed steady as he shut the door and turned the lock. He closed the distance in two strides. His hands found her waist, and he pulled her to him.

  She pushed lightly at his chest. “Val—”

  “If I die in Golgog’s spawnpit, I’d rather your last memory wasn’t you throwing cups at me.”

  She hesitated, eyes flicking over his face—anger still simmering, but softening. Her breathing slowed. For a moment, it looked like she might pull away entirely.

  Then her gaze rose to his mouth. She stood on the tips of her toes, draped her arms on his shoulders, and kissed him.

  She’ll be the death of me. But right now… I’d die for her. Without breaking their kiss, his fingers slid beneath the wet fabric, peeling it away from her skin. The dress fell to the floor.

  She glanced at the locked door, bit her lip, and nodded.

  His fingers trembled as he stripped the last of her clothing, lips trailing over every inch of skin he already knew by heart. She gasped—hands twisting in the sheets—her usual fire melting beneath his touch. His mouth found hers again, their kiss igniting passion.

  “Still angry?” he murmured against her lips, breath hot.

  “Shut up,” she whispered, her fingernails scratching down his back as she bit back a sound.

  “You can’t help it,” he breathed, voice low and wicked. His hands slid lower. “And now… I want to hear you beg.”

  She bit her lip hard, chest rising fast beneath his hands. “I won’t.”

  He grinned, slow and sure. “You always do.”

  She did. Then, she cried out his name, the last of her defiance breaking as he gave her what she wanted—completely, perfectly. Her body trembled beneath his, eyelids fluttered shut, lips parted in a gasp—desperately lost in his embrace. For a breathless second, she was his entirely.

  As she held him tight, still quivering, every instinct in him begged to follow—to lose himself, just this once.

  But the thought cut cold and clean. She trusts me. I can’t leave her with child. Not like this.

  He pulled back just enough, breathing hard, forcing the control back into his body—because if he lost it now, there would be a child binding him to Celestine forever. He moved from her entirely, and then Celestine huffed and dropped to her knees.

  Afterwards, he held her in his arms as they listened to the last of the rain pouring down.

  “You’re beautiful,” he murmured, committing every detail of her to memory as he nestled into her neck. The scent of orange blossoms clung to her skin. He ran a hand through her hair, noticing how the roots were several shades lighter than the vibrant purple trailing to the ends. “Just like that night at Lorenzo’s ball—when I couldn’t stop staring and you pretended not to notice.”

  She pulled back. “I’m scared you won’t return. Don’t go…”

  “I can’t leave my brothers.”

  “You’ll always put them first, won’t you?” She waited for an answer. "You'd rather obey him and jeopardise what we have... just to play tricks on my father?" She tensed. "You can't even tell me why this is all happening. It's some secret between you, Nocturne, the knights...and me and my sister are just collateral."

  The silence lingered. Valentino had no answer to give—there was no point arguing, explaining out the political stakes, the necessity of Nocturne's deception. So, he held her tighter, hoping it would be enough.

  Her brows drew together, tears brimming. “And you wonder why I won't take this next step with you?"

  Of course, this is where it ends up. We’re both starving for more—but pulling in opposite directions. He stared at the ceiling. Stolen moments have got us this far. But we have such different ideas of how to make it work.

  “I love you, Val. But this is getting impossible." She rose, pulling on her silk robe, tying the sash with steady hands. "I’m… going to bathe.”

  Above: “I love you, Val. But this is getting impossible."

  C'mon. Say something. His chest tightened. Salvage this, like you always do.

  “Celeste…” he murmured. “If I survive…I’ll find you.”

  “Don’t hurt me more than you already have.” She left without another word.

  I have to find you. Because if I have nothing to come home to, what’s the point of fighting?

  Distantly, Valentino heard the celebrations carrying on—fistfights, drunken arguing, dancing.

  My time to leave—before it’s too late.

  Dressing quickly, he tidied the room, erasing any trace of his presence. When he stepped into the corridors, he did not need to sneak away—he merged with the drunken revellers spilling out of the castle.

  At the Ashen Blades’ encampment, sleep eluded him. The weight in his chest made lying still unbearable, so he left his tent, wandering through the quiet camp in the hope the crisp night air would clear his thoughts. The breeze carried the scent of damp earth, the evening’s downpour still steaming up from the hot ground.

  On the outskirts, he found August sitting alone, platinum hair silvered further by the moonlight. His simple cotton shirt hung open to the chest, revealing pale scars across his torso. He sat motionless in the humid evening, eyes fixed on the night sky.

  Valentino exhaled and dropped onto the wooden bench beside him, rubbing his temple. His head still ached from the argument.

  “Bad night?” August did not turn, just raised a pale brow.

  “Worse.”

  Without a word, August pulled a bottle of rakia from his knapsack and handed it over. Valentino uncorked it and drank deeply. The sharp burn jolted him, making him cough. “What’s this, fire starter?”

  “It’d work just as well,” August said. “Homebrew. Still perfecting the recipe.” He stretched his legs, voice dropping. “You’re not surprised—were you expecting tonight to go worse?”

  Valentino shrugged as he rolled the bottle between his hands. “She wants me to give up everything, but she’s too afraid to leave anything behind.”

  “So… neither of you will commit.”

  Valentino scoffed. “She’s the one always complaining about her life. But when it comes to actually changing it…” He shook his head, staring toward the dark silhouette of Renatus’ outer walls. “I think she loves the idea of rebellion more than she loves me.”

  “Maybe both.” August tilted his head. “It’ll never work if you’re both afraid of change.” He stretched out, movements heavy in the humidity. “So—do you wait or move on?”

  Above: August and Valentino talk about the future.

  Valentino’s gaze drifted to the horizon. Across the camp, the anxious murmur had quieted as the men readied to face Golgog. He shuddered, thinking of the sickening voice that would soon slither into their thoughts, the nightmares that would haunt them before the fighting began. He forced the thought aside. “If we survive, I’ll become more than just a knight.”

  August turned fully, eyebrow raised.

  “You have your magic—you’ll always be useful.” Valentino laughed low. “Me? I’m one injury away from irrelevance. On the battlefield, the strongest and fastest win, and I’m at my peak. But give it a few years…” His lips curled bitterly. “I’ll slow down. Lose my edge, my looks—”

  “By the Pits.” August snatched the bottle back. “I didn’t come out here to be depressed.” He drank, wiped his mouth with his sleeve, and offered the next drink to Valentino. “Well, Celestine's right about one thing,” August said dryly. “We can’t keep charging into the Shadowlands every time a new spawnlord crawls out of the abyss. Seven. Spawnrotting. Lords. I’m sick of it, Val. Let the younger men chase the glory."

  August rubbed his jaw with his smallest finger. “So, you’re taking up Lorenzo’s offer? Lord Valentino, Count of San Ruvio. Has a ring to it.”

  “She didn’t understand why I wouldn’t become a Count and marry her." Valentino’s fingers tightened around the bottle. “But I couldn’t think of anything worse than being on Lorenzo’s leash for life. Land, politics, arse-kissers.” He sighed. “Nocturne’s going to realise he’s been neglecting Firestone. He’ll need people he trusts to defend it—with strategy, with politics. Not just steel.” The golden flecks in his brown eyes dimmed as he said, “If we survive.”

  The silence stretched—the kind only Valentino had with those he had faced death with for years. He felt the burn of the rakia as he swallowed a mouthful.

  “You always have a plan, Val. You'll make good of it." The mage tilted his head back, lashes shadowing his cheeks. "Me? All I want after this is sleep. A long, long sleep.”

  “Lazy bastard.”

  “You say that now, but when you’re backstabbed in Firestone’s court, you’ll envy me.”

  “Maybe.” Valentino chuckled, shaking his head. He drank again, Celestine’s words echoing. I guess she’s right. What woman would want to be with a man who lives with this much uncertainty?

  They passed the bottle back and forth, staring at the endless dark, waiting until dawn.

  ___________

  Back at Firestone...

  Valentino rubbed his eyes, realising he could hardly read in the dim light. He leaned back in his chair, staring at the neat pile of documents he had managed to whittle down.

  I bet Nocturne still hasn't left that room. His temples throbbed. Of course not. Nothing’s ever simple for him. He's got half the world on his shoulders and no clue how to set it down.

  He could not look away from the letter, his eyes fixed on the red wax seal, stamped with the blazing sun sigil of the royal throne.

  Nox has redirected his whole life for her, Valentino thought, a wife he’s barely had time to know—let alone love. His jaw tightened. I didn’t do that for Celestine. Not the way she wanted. I couldn't even say 'no' to Nocturne when it counted. Guess that’s why he gets the tragic hero role, and I’m stuck as the charming disappointment.

  His gaze drifted—again—to Edwin’s letter.

  Fine, Valentino thought, reaching for it. I’ve got a bad feeling about this. And with the way things are going for Nox… he’s going to need all the help we can give.

  He broke the wax seal.

  “Fye…” he murmured, setting the letter down. “As if he didn’t have enough shit to deal with.”

  Above: “As if he didn’t have enough shit to deal with.”

  PS. Do you like the perspective from the other knights? I've got some more planned, so let me know if there are other perspectives you want me to explore!