The cold night air bites at my skin, but I barely feel it. My senses are still tangled with her—her energy, her fire, the way her pulse thrummed beneath my fingers when I adjusted her stance. The way she almost—
I shake the thought away. Whatever almost happened was a mistake. It had to be.
But as we walk in silence toward her quarters, I can still feel the ghost of her warmth lingering on my skin. I shouldn't have come to Anoryl, shouldn't have risked crossing the glaciers, shouldn't have thrown myself into enemy territory for someone I didn't even know. It was reckless, foolish. And yet, when I saw her for the first time, something in me stilled. Like the world had been shifting beneath my feet for years, and now, finally, it had stopped.
I hate that feeling. That pull. That loss of control.
She walks ahead of me, her shoulders squared, but I don't miss the way she rubs at her arms, as if trying to shake off a chill. Or perhaps something else entirely. I keep my pace slow, my steps measured. I won't let myself get any closer than necessary.
But it's already too late, isn't it? I'm already closer than I should be. The thought of her has burrowed into me, and I can't shake it loose no matter how hard I try. I know what this is. I know what it means. And I know it cannot be.
Anoryl is the enemy. She lived with the enemy. And yet, my body betrays me with every step. Every glance. Every moment I spend too close, every breath I take when she's near. I'm not supposed to feel this. Not supposed to want this. Not supposed to let myself be swayed by anything other than duty and vengeance.
And yet—
I remember the way she looked at me earlier. The flicker of something in her eyes, something unreadable, something dangerous. I remember the way her breath hitched, the way her fingers twitched, like she wanted to reach out but didn't dare. Like she was fighting this just as much as I was.
A curse slips from my lips before I can stop it. This isn't right. It isn't fair. I've spent my entire life with a singular purpose, a single path carved out before me like fate itself had decreed it. My mission, my goals, my duty—everything was clear. And then she appeared, and suddenly, nothing makes sense anymore.
I don't understand it. I don't want to understand it. Because if I acknowledge it, if I give it even the slightest space in my mind, then I am lost. Then I am weak. Then I am nothing but a man who let his heart lead him astray, and I cannot—will not—be that man.
I force myself to focus. The war is not over. The blood on my hands has not yet dried. My people still suffer, still struggle, still fight. How can I stand here, plagued by thoughts of a woman who should mean nothing to me, while the world I swore to protect hangs in the balance?
She is not mine to want. Not mine to long for. She is Anoryl's. She belongs to this place, this land, this history that I will never be a part of. And I… I belong to the ghosts of my past, to the weight of my people's grief, to the bloodstains that will never truly fade.
I close my eyes, just for a moment. Just long enough to steady my breathing, to shove down the warring emotions inside me. It is only when I open them again that I realize she's stopped walking. She stands at the threshold of her quarters, her back to me, silent, unmoving. She doesn't turn, doesn't acknowledge my presence, but I can feel the tension in her posture, the same uncertainty that knots itself inside my own chest.
I should say something. Something final. Something that puts an end to this before it can become something neither of us can control. I should remind her of the lines we cannot cross, the war that still looms over us, the reality that will crush us if we let it. But I can't find the words. My throat is dry, my mind blank, my resolve fraying at the edges.
She opens the door and steps inside without looking back. And I stand there, staring at the closed door, fists clenched so tightly my nails bite into my palms.
I cannot let this continue. I cannot let her consume me like this. Because if I do, then I will have already lost.
With a sharp breath, I turn on my heel and walk away, forcing myself to ignore the ache in my chest.
I have to keep my distance.
Because if I don't, I might not be able to pull away the next time.