Chapter Eighteen - Fractured steps and Unspoken tension
KIERAN
At his words, the mood shifted. The tension of my arrival did not fully dissipate, but the focus turned to something else.
“A ball,” Alistair announced, setting his silver fork down. “It’s been decided that we will hold a grand celebration in the palace.”
Liora blinked, momentarily distracted. “A ball?”
“Yes.” Cassius leaned forward, his voice smooth. “An elegant event, filled with the nobility of the kingdom. A night of revelry, diplomacy, and, of course, dance.”
Darius smirked. “And an opportunity to remind everyone of where power truly lies.”
My fingers stilled against the edge of his goblet. I had remained silent, but Liora could feel something shift beside her.
“The ball will serve multiple purposes,” the king continued. “It will solidify alliances, display the strength of the royal family, and”—his gaze flickered between us—Liora and I—“formally introduce your union to the kingdom.”
Liora felt a chill creep over her.
So that was the real reason.
Alistair dropped his goblet, slowly after taking a sip. "When is the ball father?"
"Perhaps next weekend . That would be a free day; it would be free.”
This wasn’t just a celebration. This was a spectacle. A display to the world that she and I were bound together.
She glanced at me, expecting to see frustration—or perhaps cold indifference. But to her surprise, I was watching the king with an expression that was unreadable, my golden eyes dark and calculating.
Then, slowly, I exhaled.
“Ok then.” I concluded.
After having supper, Liora and I were about going to out chamber.
The corridor was quiet, save for the faint echo of our footsteps against the polished stone floor. The evening air was cool, brushing against Liora’s skin as she walked beside me, neither of us speaking.
The dinner had been suffocating in its formalities, filled with conversations that danced around tension rather than confronting it.
But now, in the silence of the dimly lit halls, the weight of unspoken words stretched between us like an invisible thread—fragile, taut, waiting to snap.
Liora stole a glance at me. I walked with an effortless grace, my stride steady, my face carved from shadow and moonlight. My dark hair fell slightly over my brow, a silent frame for the unreadable expression that masked my features.
The flickering torches on the walls did little to soften the sharp angles of my face, my lips pressed in their usual grim line. I seemed utterly unaffected by the night, by their dinner, by her presence beside me.
She parted her lips, finally mustering the courage to break the silence. But before she could utter a word
A sharp snap.
Pain shot up her ankle as her foot twisted violently beneath her. She barely had time to gasp before her balance gave way. The heel of her shoe had betrayed her, breaking against the unforgiving stone. For a split second, she braced for impact, for the cold floor to meet her in a cruel embrace.
But it never came.
Instead, she felt strong hands catch her, the warmth of them stark against the cool night air. I moved with the reflexes of a predator, my grip steady and unyielding as I caught her mid-fall.
Liora's breath hitched as she found herself cradled in my arms, her body pressed against the solid strength of my chest. My hold was careful yet unrelenting, as though I hadn’t even considered the possibility of letting her go.
She felt the rapid thrum of her own heartbeat against her ribs, the scent of me filling her senses—storm-drenched earth, iron, and something undeniably wild.
I glanced down at her, my gaze unreadable. Then, shifting slightly, I lifted the broken heel from the ground, studying it with mild interest. My thumb ran absently over the snapped edge, as though assessing its worth before dismissing it altogether.
"You’re reckless," I muttered, my voice low, carrying the weight of restrained irritation.
"It wasn’t my fault," Liora shot back, her voice breathless, hands clutching the fabric of my tunic.
"The heel just—"
I exhaled sharply, cutting her off. Without another word, I adjusted my grip and carried her effortlessly, as though she weighed nothing.
CASSIUS
From the shadows of the corridor, I have been watching.
My steps had faltered when I first saw them—Liora in Kieran's arms, my brother holding her with a sense of ease that made something sharp coil in my chest. It was an unfamiliar feeling, something I wasn't sure I wanted to name.
Jealousy? Never.
Not the consuming, raging kind, but something quieter, subtler—a bitter taste on my tongue as I observed them. Kieran was supposed to be indifferent, cold, and unreachable. And yet, here he was, holding Liora as though she was something precious.
I leaned slightly against the stone archway, arms folded over my chest, a smirk playing at the corner of my lips as I called out, "Well, isn't this a sight?"
Liora turned her head, her face already flushed from embarrassment, but now colored with something else. My gaze flicked over to Kieran, whose grip on Liora didn’t loosen in the slightest. If anything, he held her closer, his jaw tightening.
"Should I assume you finally developed a sense of chivalry, brother?" I continued, my tone light
Kieran’s expression remained impassive. "Or you could assume she was careless, as always," he replied coolly.
Liora shot him a glare. "I was not careless! The shoe—"
I chuckled, pushing off the wall and strolling toward them. My gaze lingered on Liora, assessing her—her slightly disorder state, the way her fingers still gripped Kieran’s tunic as though anchoring herself. "Perhaps I should carry you instead," I mused. "Kieran looks as though he's about to throw you over his shoulder like a sack of grain."
Kieran scoffed but said nothing. Instead, he adjusted Liora in his arms slightly, proving his point—he had no trouble holding her at all.
"Very well," I sighed, relenting. "Then I’ll be the gracious one and fetch the physician for her ankle."
Kieran’s gaze flickered, a silent refusal flashing across his face "Then will be no need for that Cassius" he turned and continued walking.
I watched them, the smirk on my lips faltering slightly as I ran a hand through my dark hair.
"Interesting," I murmured to myself before stepping into the shadows once more.
Liora, unaware of my lingering gaze, felt another wave of embarrassment settle over her. "You really don’t have to carry me," she muttered to Kieran, her fingers curling slightly against his chest.
"Would you rather limp all the way back to the chambers?" he asked dryly.
She huffed, conceding defeat. Silence stretched between them again though this time, it was different—charged, heavy with things left unsaid.
Kieran carried her through the corridors, his grip unwavering, the broken heel still held in his grasp.