Page 25 of Beyond the Treaty

I dragged a hand over my face, every muscle tense with the effort it took not to rise, not to follow that invisible pull back down the hall to her door. I could still see the look in her eyes when I kissed her, surprised, yes, but searching. As if she saw something in me that no one else had ever dared to look for. That thought sent a sharp ache through my chest, too raw and unfamiliar to ignore.

Gods help me. I wanted to go to her again.

I wanted to cross that threshold and let everything I had been holding back unravel completely. I wanted to take her facein my hands, trace the stubborn curve of her jaw, and tell her that I would burn the whole Council’s empire to ashes just to keep her safe. I wanted to hear her voice, sharp and certain, say my name once more, as though I were something worth believing in.

But that wasn’t the truth. I wasn’t something to believe in. I was a blade forged in war, a weapon honed to strike down threats without hesitation or remorse. I had no place in Elara’s world beyond the battle we now shared.

Yet she lingered in every thought, in every breath I took.

The crimson tome still rested on the table where I had left it, its gilded edges catching the faint light. Focus, I told myself. Focus on the war. On the Council. On the truths we uncovered that evening. The secrets written within that book could reshape the fate of the realm; they might bring down the Council’s tyranny once and for all. That was what truly mattered.

Not this, whatever it was that stirred between Elara and me.

I forced myself to my feet and paced towards the far window where the moon hung low in the sky. The cool night air seeped through the cracks, brushing against my skin as if to temper the heat burning within me. I allowed my forehead to rest against the stone, exhaling slowly with my eyes tightly shut.

She merits something far better than this.

Better than a man tormented by his past. Better than someone who could so easily be consumed by feelings he had buried for years, feelings he vowed he would never allow to resurface. She needed someone who could be her steadfast shield, someone who would never jeopardise her trust by yielding to his selfish desires.

I was meant to protect her, guide her, not desire her. Yet I did.

I desired her fiercely and completely, so much that it frightened me. For wanting her meant I could not lose her, and in our world, such weakness got people killed.

I swallowed hard, gripping the stone ledge beneath myfingers until my knuckles burned. Control it, I told myself. I could lock this away once more. I had to.

Yet, even as I considered it, my resolve felt like smoke, drifting further from my grasp with each beat of my heart.

Suddenly, the sound of a door creaking open, soft, tentative, shattered the silence. I froze, every sense snapping to attention as my head turned towards the hallway. For a moment, there was nothing but stillness. Then, the faintest sound of footsteps reached me, light, careful.

My heart pounded against my ribs as I straightened, instinct taking over before thought could. I pivoted on my heel, rushing to meet her, only to halt abruptly as Elara stepped out from the shadows of the corridor.

She stood there, wrapped in the threadbare blanket she had taken with her, her hair falling loose about her shoulders. Her face was partly obscured by the dim firelight, but I could see enough to discern the hesitation in her posture, the way her hand gripped the edge of the blanket tighter than necessary.

“Azrael?” Her voice was soft, almost uncertain. For a heartbeat, I didn’t trust myself to respond. My jaw tightened, and I forced myself to speak evenly, though my voice came out rougher than I intended.

“Elara, you ought to be asleep.” Her lips parted as if she wasn’t certain how to reply.

“I couldn’t sleep.” Her eyes flicked toward the dying fire, then back to me. “It’s too quiet.”

Too quiet. I understood that well enough. Quiet was when the memories crept in, when the weight of everything we’d learned settled in like a stone pressing on my chest.

I exhaled slowly, running a hand through my hair as I studied her. I ought to tell her to go back to bed. It was what I should do. What I needed to do. But seeing her standing there, so small yet so resilient, I couldn’t summon the words.

Instead, I nodded towards the fire. “Sit down. I’ll tend to the flames.”

Elara hesitated briefly before crossing the room, lowering herself onto the edge of the chair nearest to the fire. I knelt before the hearth, adding another log and stirring the embers to life until the flames began to rise higher, spreading light and warmth throughout the room.

When I turned back to her, she was observing me.

“What is it?” I inquired, attempting to keep my voice steady. Elara shook her head slightly, a small, weary smile playing

on her lips. “Nothing.” Her eyes flickered towards the flames. “I just... don’t like feeling alone with all of this.”

I watched her attentively, feeling something fracture within me at the sincerity of her words. She wasn’t afraid to acknowledge it, to reveal the burden she bore. I lowered myself to sit opposite her, leaning forward with my elbows on my knees.

“You’re not alone,” I said softly. The words escaped me more gently than I had intended, yet I truly meant them, gods, I truly meant them. Elara looked up, her gaze meeting mine. For a moment, we sat in silence, the firelight dancing between us and casting shadows that felt almost alive.

She kept her gaze fixed, and so did I.

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