Page 65 of Unravelled
Mira stood, her bare feet brushing the cool floor. She crossed to the bathing chamber where steam was already curling from the deep basin, scented with citrus and stone. The warmth of the water wrapped around her like a cloak as she stepped in, her muscles easing slowly into the heat. She closed her eyes. Tried again to find the dream. But only impressions remained. A laugh. A kiss. The feeling of falling and not being afraid.
By the time she rose from the water, her skin glowed with warmth, and her thoughts had quieted. She dressed simply, an earth-toned dress, soft and worn, layered with a cardigan that settled gently over her shoulders. The air wasn’t cold, just cool enough. She pulled her hair down, combed through it with her fingers, and moved to the door.
Outside, the palace had stirred, soft voices, footsteps echoing over marble, the metallic rhythm of daily life rising like a tide. The corridor beyond was still touched by the morning hush. The light through the tall windows glowed pale and gold, and the scent of autumn drifted in, dried leaves, sun-warmed stone, something faintly sweet. She stepped into the hall.
The corridor curved away from the main palace like a vein, quieter, narrower, the scent of damp stone mixing with traces of burnt oil and cold air. Mira hadn’t meantthis far from the altar room, but her feet had wandered. She liked the quiet of the south wing, the way it felt older than the rest. Like the palace had tried to forget it.
She rounded the corner and stopped short. Voices echoed ahead, low and clipped, the low, deliberate murmur of a weighty conversation. Three advisors in deep conversation, their backs to her. And in the middle, was Ren. He stood with his arms crossed, dressed in deep navy, his posture a quiet command. His voice was calm, direct.
“We'll increase the guards presence in the west wing. If the Queen of Myrdathis arrives early, she will have her own guard, but we won’t risk appearing unprepared.”
The men murmured in agreement. She should have turned away. Should have taken the side hall like she had meant to. But the sight of him, her breath caught, her pulse quickened. Low and traitorous. And as if summoned by the thought, his head lifted. His eyes traced the length of the hall until they found her. The conversationcontinued around him. His expression shifted a little in his eyes. Warmth and longing. Ren’s gaze held hers for a breath longer before he turned slightly, his voice lifting just enough to reach the others.
“Thank you, all of you. That’ll be all for now. Head back through the east hall. I’ll catch up shortly.”
There was no tension in the dismissal, just calm authority and a trace of gratitude. The men nodded, murmuring acknowledgments as they turned away from Mira, their backs never once glancing in her direction. One of them chuckled softly at something the others said, their voices already fading as they disappeared around the corner.
Ren didn’t move right away. He waited a second longer, listening to their footsteps recede completely before facing her. With that same quiet certainty, he closed the distance between them.
“You shouldn’t be here,” he said softly, but his voice held no reprimand. Mira held his gaze, the quiet between them pulling tighter, like a string drawn taut.
She shifted slightly, her hand brushing the edge of her sleeve, needing something to do with the weight in her chest. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“You didn’t,” he said, voice even. “You never do” His eyes flicked briefly down the corridor where the advisors had gone. “I didn’t think I would get to see you.”
Mira glanced past him, toward the end of the hall she should’ve taken, the one that would’ve kept her from this. But something in her, stubborn, curious, maybe foolish, had stopped her feet before her mind could catch up.
Ren looked down at her , his voice low, "I heard about Seacliffe… ”
Mira blinked, her spine straightening slightly. "Did you?”
Ren stepped closer, the sharp edges of his usual bravado softened now. “Officers. Troop movements. A pleasure house.” He let the words hang a moment, thoughtful.
She watched him carefully. “Tharion told you?”
Ren nodded, slow and quiet. “Not the kind of maneuver you'd attempt without knowing what you're doing.”
Mira tilted her head slightly, watching him. “You sound surprised.”
“I’m not,” he said. “I’m impressed.” She felt the pride bloom in her chest, and Ren’s gaze sharpened. “But I’m also furious.”
Her brows lifted. “Oh?”
He hesitated, “You shouldn’t have had to risk everything while the rest of us sat in council rooms pretending strategy and protocol were enough.”
Mira’s lips curved faintly."No an official presence. Wasn't that your plan?”
He exhaled slowly, jaw tight. “I agreed to subtle. I didn’t agree to you playing bait for some preening Kharadorian.”
The air between them shifted. The words weren’t biting, but they carried an edge. Controlled. Calculated. Jealous. Mira felt it like a spark against skin, sharp and sudden. That edge in his voice, the fire he was trying to mask with formality, it lit a dark satisfaction low and undeniable in her. Part of her recognized the fire in him and didn't looked away. Ren saw it. The flicker in her eyes. The slight, involuntary catch of her breath. And for a moment, the mask he wore cracked just enough to show the fire underneath.
His voice dropped, a low, dark rumble that seemed to vibrate more than speak. “How many eyes followed you in there?”
Mira raised an eyebrow, amused. “Only the necessary ones.”
His eyes narrowed slightly. “Necessary,” he echoed, then looked away for a heartbeat.
There was a beat of silence between them. Then softer “I just…” he stopped, jaw tightening, then added more quietly, "If I’d been there… I could’ve played the part. Backed your play.”
