The moment Killian rides through the towering gates of his kingdom, the air shifts. Soldiers gripping their weapons halt mid-step, their eyes widening in disbelief. Civilians gathered near the barracks gasp, their whispers rising into the cold night.
He was supposed to be dead.
A group of warriors rush toward him, their expressions torn between shock and relief. One of them, a young soldier with a scar running down his cheek, steps forward hesitantly.
"My Lord… we thought—"
Killian dismounts in one swift motion. "I know what you thought."
His voice cuts through the tension like a blade. The soldiers exchange glances, their fingers twitching near their hilts, still expecting some kind of deception. But when Killian meets their gazes, his expression remains firm, steady.
"I was ambushed," he says. "But I'm here now. And we need to put an end to this before blood is spilled for nothing."
A murmur spreads through the gathered warriors. The attack had ignited a fire in them, and they'd been prepared to launch a counterstrike against Saphira's kingdom. Now, their leader stands before them, telling them to stand down.
A gruff voice emerges from the crowd. "Then who killed our men? Who dared?"
Killian's jaw tightens. "No one from her kingdom did. It was an outside force that attacked me. If we march to war now, we'll only weaken ourselves while the true enemy watches from the shadows."
The soldiers hesitate, their anger still simmering, but Killian's presence alone is enough to make them question their next move.
Soren, standing at his side, leans in. "If this is truly over, she'll need to know."
Killian nods. "Go to Saphira's kingdom. Tell her the war has been stopped."
Soren hesitates for only a second before giving a sharp nod, then turns and vanishes into the night.
Saphira had barely closed her eyes when the sound of hurried footsteps outside her chamber jolts her awake. Heart pounding, she pushes the covers aside and moves to the window. The torches along the kingdom walls flicker against the dark sky, illuminating a lone figure standing at the gate.
Soren.
Her breath catches. He shouldn't be here.
Without thinking, she grabs her cloak and rushes through the halls, her boots echoing against the stone floors. When she reaches the main gate, the guards have already drawn their weapons, blocking Soren's path.
"Step back," one of them orders. "No one from their kingdom is permitted here."
Saphira pushes past them before they can argue. "Let him speak."
The guards hesitate but eventually lower their swords. Soren, still catching his breath, meets her gaze. "It's over. The war is off. Killian stopped it."
Saphira stares at him, the words sinking into her chest. Relief should flood through her veins. She should feel lighter.
Her grip tightens around her cloak. "And Killian?"
Soren's lips twitch slightly, almost amused. "Insufferable as ever."
A breath escapes her lips, though she's unsure whether it's a sigh of relief or something else entirely.
She turns away before Soren can read her expression. "Good. Now leave before my guards start getting ideas."
Soren smirks but obeys, stepping back into the shadows.
Saphira watches him go, her heart pounding for reasons she refuses to acknowledge.
She turns back toward the castle, each step heavier than the last. The halls are quiet, save for the distant crackling of torches. But inside her mind, there is only him—his smirk, his defiance, the way he never seemed afraid even when she had a blade to his throat.
She stops at the door to her chamber, gripping the handle tightly. It should not matter. He should not matter.
And yet, as she closes her eyes, all she can hear is his voice—low, teasing, infuriating.
Damn him.
Saphira exhales sharply and steps inside, but sleep does not come easy that night.
Because no matter how much she tries to silence the thought—
He's right.