I don't know how long I'd been lying there — half-delirious from the pain, ribs bound too tight, arm throbbing like fire lived in the marrow. The night stretched on, heavy and silent, the kind of silence that swallows thoughts and makes you feel like you're drifting out of time.
Then I heard it.
A soft creak. The faintest shift of weight on the window ledge. My heart stilled.
I didn't move right away. Just listened — the careful breath, the near-silent step on old stone. My hand ghosted toward the knife under the pillow, more out of habit than expectation.
But then I caught the scent — lavender and ash. Her.
"…Auralia?" I rasped, voice barely there.
Moonlight caught her just as she climbed through the window. She didn't have her cloak. No boots. Just the thin fabric of her nightshirt clinging to her in the chill, her long hair loose around her shoulders, wild from sleep — or the lack of it.
She looked like she'd walked out of a dream. Or maybe into one.
"I—" she hesitated. "I couldn't stay there. I didn't… think. I just—came."
She stood at the edge of the room, breath catching, as if realizing what she was wearing. As if instinct had carried her this far, and only now was she aware of the world again.
I stared at her, not daring to move. My body hurt too much to shift, and she looked like something fragile that might vanish if I so much as blinked.
"The priests locked the doors," she added, half-apologetic, half-defiant. "And posted guards."
"So you climbed the wall?" I asked, a rasp of disbelief in my tone.
She nodded. "Didn't want to wake you."
"I wasn't sleeping," I said, with the ghost of a smile.
She approached slowly, as if unsure of her place in the room now. Her bare feet made no sound on the floor. She didn't speak again — not right away. She just knelt by the cot and reached out, her fingers finding mine.
Her touch was warm. Grounding. Real.
"I couldn't sleep," she said finally, quieter than before. "It felt wrong being alone."
I swallowed the knot in my throat. My body was screaming, but her presence dulled the edge. I let my eyes close, let out a shaky breath.
"You're insane," I murmured.
"I know," she whispered, her fingers lacing with mine. "But I'm here."
I felt it before I saw it — a flicker, a subtle shift beneath the surface of things. Something off, like the air around her had changed, carrying a weight I couldn't quite place.
Her skin, pale in the moonlight, seemed almost to glow with a faint, restless energy. I wanted to ask, but the words stuck in my throat.
Then, as she reached for my hand, the opening of her nightshirt shifted just enough—revealing a glimpse of something dark, ink-black against her skin, nestled low between her breasts.
My eyes caught it, and I realized too late where I'd been looking.
Auralia caught my gaze and, instead of pulling away, she smirked softly, a playful spark lighting her eyes.
"Well, you were staring," she teased, voice low and mischievous. "Don't pretend you didn't notice."
Heat flushed my cheeks as I quickly looked away, heart racing.
She laughed quietly, a teasing, warm sound. "Curiosity's natural, Eiran. But maybe ask next time."
The tension in the room eased, but the mark still lingered there, just out of full view — a secret we both suddenly knew was bigger than either of us.
I cleared my throat, feeling the warmth in my cheeks deepen as I struggled to find words. "I—I wasn't really looking," I began, voice awkward and uneven. "It's just... the pain from my arm keeps waking me up. I guess I was trying to... focus on something else."
I rubbed the back of my neck, still avoiding her eyes. "I didn't mean to... look there."
Auralia's smirk grew wider, clearly enjoying my discomfort. "Uh-huh," she said, leaning closer, her voice a soft tease. "Pain or no pain, you got caught."
I sighed, finally meeting her gaze, a small embarrassed smile creeping through. "I'm not exactly smooth at this."
She laughed quietly, the sound like a balm in the dark room. "That's alright. You're cute when you're awkward."
Her fingers brushed lightly against mine, grounding me in the moment. "But maybe next time... just say what you're thinking. You don't have to be so... shy."
I nodded slowly, the tight knot of embarrassment loosening. "I'll try. No promises, though."
Her smile softened, eyes glinting with something warmer now — trust, maybe even a little affection. "That's all I'm asking."
The night stretched on between us, fragile but real, and for a moment, the dark weight of the mark felt just a little lighter.
I swallowed hard, feeling my cheeks burn as my eyes flicked downward, caught in the subtle curve of her neckline where the faintest glimpse of the mark peeked through.
"I—I wasn't really looking," I stammered, voice soft but tinged with something deeper than embarrassment. "It's just... the pain from my arm keeps pulling my focus. I guess I was trying to find something else to think about."
Auralia's smirk melted into a slow, knowing smile as she shifted closer, her breath warm against my skin. "Pain or no pain... you didn't look away fast enough."
My heart thudded harder, but instead of pulling away, I found myself drawn to her — to the way her eyes held mine, a spark of challenge and invitation.
"Maybe I wasn't trying to," I whispered, voice low and rough with sincerity.
Her fingers brushed mine, light and teasing, but the touch sent a current straight through me. "See? Now that's better. Just say what you mean."
I reached out hesitantly, tracing a gentle line along her collarbone, feeling the softness of her skin beneath my fingertips. "I'm not very good with words... but I want to be better. For you."
Her eyes softened, and with a quiet laugh, she leaned in closer — close enough to feel the warmth of her breath on my cheek. "Then show me."