Seraya bent over the cold marble floor, scrubbing until her fingers ached. The scent of lemon oil and ash clung to her hands, a bitter reminder of how far she'd fallen. All morning, Vera had assigned her one demeaning task after another, parading her power like a crown.
And then she heard it—two concubines whispering just outside the corridor, their voices low but urgent.
"Did you hear about the guards? Half of them bruised up after sparring with the king yesterday."
"He snapped. Told them five to one. Like he was possessed."
Seraya's heart stuttered. Lex.
What if he was hurt?
She wiped her hands on her apron, breath coming too fast. She needed to see him. Had to.
"Jenna," she hissed, finding her friend bent over a table of silverware. "Can you cover for me?"
Jenna looked up, wary. "You're not thinking of—"
"I'll be quick. Please."
A beat passed, then Jenna gave a tiny nod. Seraya didn't wait for more.
She moved fast, ducking through the servant halls and back corridors until she slipped into the garden like a breath of wind. The familiar scent of dew and roses washed over her. Her eyes searched the space—then found him.
Lex.
He stood beneath the arbor, one hand braced on a column, his eyes scanning the garden like he was waiting for something.
For someone.
"Lex!" she called, too loud, too relieved.
His head snapped toward her. And then he was walking—no, striding—toward her, closing the space with long, purposeful steps.
"You're okay?" she said breathlessly, stopping just short of him. "Are you hurt? I heard about what the king did. How he—how he punished the guards. He's such an asshole. Throwing a temper tantrum and taking it out on all of you."
Lex tilted his head, a slow smile blooming across his face. "He certainly is a tyrant," he said, voice low. "So… you were worried about me?"
Seraya tried to scoff, but her blush betrayed her. "Maybe," she muttered.
That look on his face—pure, amused delight—struck her like lightning. It softened everything inside her and lit her nerve endings on fire all at once.
He stepped closer. So did she. A pull, magnetic, undeniable.
And then it happened.
His lips met hers.
The kiss was wildfire. Hot, all-consuming, breathtaking. His hand slid to the back of her neck, his mouth hungry, but somehow still gentle. It wasn't like any kiss she'd ever known—it unraveled her, anchored her, made her feel… chosen.
When they finally broke apart, his breath was shallow, his eyes dark and stormy with need. She could still feel the echo of him in her chest.
"Why didn't you come yesterday?" he asked, voice barely above a whisper.
It hit her like a splash of cold water. She blinked, faltered. "It was nothing. I… got busy."
He searched her face. "Is someone giving you a hard time?" There was steel in his voice now, a flash of something deadly in his gaze.
"No," she lied quickly. "Nothing like that."
He studied her for a long, silent moment, but said nothing more.
What could he do? He was just a guard. A guard she was falling for far too quickly.
She cleared her throat. "Maybe we could meet… at another time. Like tonight."
His smile returned, slower this time, more intimate. "I don't mind gazing at the stars with you."
And just like that, the ache in her chest eased. For now.