BONUS: During the time they were in the fortress town.

  Kylar sat with her a while longer, long enough to feel the rhythm of her breathing settle into something deep and steady. Long enough for the hard, coiled part of him to finally believe she wasn’t about to vanish the moment he blinked. When he finally stood, he did it slowly almost reluctant to leave her side. He adjusted the blanket around her shoulders first, tugging it up where it had slipped, smoothing it down with the back of his knuckles. Then he tucked the edge beneath her arm so it wouldn’t twist around her in her sleep. He took care with it all like he had always done for the more recent years. He couldn't help but grin a little.

  This is the one of the first actual times I get to tuck you in.

  Her face didn’t change, but her fingers curled faintly at the pillow as if her body noticed the warmth leaving. He paused, watching that small motion with as his heart reminded him he could feel. He glanced over to Tessa asleep on the other side of the bed and forced himself to finally take the couple steps away.

  Moving to the door, he opened it just enough to slide through, and stepped into the hall.

  Darius was still there, exactly where he’d been. Broad-shouldered, arms folded, weight distributed like a man who’d learned how to become part of the architecture. The corridor lantern cast a warm stripe across his cheekbone and left the rest of him in shadow.

  Kylar eased the door mostly shut behind him, leaving it cracked again. Darius glanced at him. “I can watch for now,” he murmured. “Sleep, Ky.”

  Kylar didn’t move. Didn’t even shift his boots. Darius’s eyes narrowed a fraction, like he’d expected this.

  “No one alone,” Kylar said quietly, as if the words were a law carved into the fort stones. “Remember.”

  Darius huffed a breath that was almost a laugh and almost a surrender. “I remember.”

  Kylar stepped to the wall beside him and leaned back against it. They stood there in silence for a while. Kylar crossed his arms after a while and let his head tilt back against the wall. The silence between them was a familiar moment for them. To relax, to unclench from all the sudden stress of the past couple days. They took in the stone walls, narrow corridors and the smell of oil and metal. Smelled like all the homes away from home they had been stationed at for years together.

  Darius finally spoke, voice low enough that it wouldn’t carry. “We have been together for a long time, Ky.”

  Kylar turned his head slightly, just enough to acknowledge him. In the dim light, his expression was tired but attentive. “We have,” He said tentively. “Where are you going with this?” His eyes went back down the hall automatically, scanning, soldier-habit. Then back again, to Darius.

  Darius’s head turned, studying Kylar’s profile looking at a man he knew by heart, but still didn’t fully understand.

  “And you are still you,” Darius said, the words weighed carefully. “Only using your privilege if you have to. Being kind to us. Respecting us, the soldiers, servants, everyone. Doing what’s best. I hope-”

  He paused, and that pause was heavy in the way of men who weren’t used to saying soft things out loud. “I really hope,” Darius continued, gaze drifting to the opposite wall as if it was easier not to look directly at what he meant, “nothing changes too much for you. I hope you don’t have to change to keep what you want.”

  Kylar kept his focus just past Darius for a moment then he closed his eyes, and out of old reflex his hand lifted toward his chest, the place where a ring on a chain would’ve been, the place his fingers always went when his mind needed an anchor.

  His hand stopped halfway. Right

  He remembered, abruptly and with a strange hollow ache, that he didn’t have it on. Not tonight. Not since she wore it. His fingers hovered there for a second like they didn’t know where else to go. Then he let his hand fall back to his side. The quiet stretched again. The fort lantern crackled softly. Somewhere further down the hall, a guard’s boots shifted.

  Kylar opened his eyes, gaze drifting back to the ceiling watching the light flicker lazily across it.

  “If I do,” he said quietly, voice rougher than he meant it to be, “tell me, Dare.”

  Darius’s gaze slid back to him. Kylar’s jaw flexed once, the movement small but telling, like he was holding something back. His eyes flicked toward her door again. The crack of darkness. The soft proof of her breathing.

  “And if I suggest or ask something stupid,” Kylar added, “tell me that too.” A faint, tired humor touched the corner of his mouth, then vanished. “I have a feeling my life will become very complicated once we’re back.”

  Darius stared at him for a moment, then gave one slow nod, solemn as an oath. “You’ll hear it from me,” he said. “Immediately.” He let the quiet fill the air for a while as he thought about how much has changed in just a couple of days.

  “So,” Darius said softly, eyes still down the corridor, “are you really going to put up with the spectacle of what Tearian courting sounds like for her?”

  Kylar’s mouth twitched. He didn’t look at Darius, but his shoulders eased a fraction, like the question gave him something safer to hold than dread. He shrugged. “Probably.”

  Darius turned his head, studying him. “Probably? You don't sound very confident"

  Kylar exhaled through his nose. “Fine. I’m doing it for my own selfish desires.”

  Darius’s brows lifted waiting for him to continue.

  Kylar’s voice dropped lower, rougher in the way it got when he was telling the truth and didn’t like how it sounded. “The whole… I want her. No one else can have her. That desire.”

  Darius let out a quiet chuckle. “That sounds possessive.”

  Kylar nodded once. No denial. No defense. Just… acknowledgement, like he’d already argued with himself about it and lost.

  “She doesn’t seem like the kind who would want a possessive fiancé,” Darius added, as if he were stating a tactical fact about terrain.

  Kylar’s gaze flicked to Kairi’s door again, then back to the hall. “No. She doesn't." He paused, then, with a faint grim humor: “But she gets possessive.”

  Darius’s eyebrow climbed slowly. “Does she now.”

  Kylar’s lips curved, small and private. “We went to a festival in Brindlecross.”

  Darius nodded. “Heard about that. Mayor seemed pleased you were there.”

  Kylar groaned like the memory physically pained him. “That man was only excited to be noticed. Anyway.” He glanced down the hall, then back, voice low. “She clutched my arm tighter than needed whenever the other girls came over asking to dance.”

  Darius’s grin spread, bright in the lamplight. “Oh?”

  “It was…” Kylar hesitated, like admitting it would spoil it. “…nice. In a way.”

  Darius let his head fall back against the wall, eyes closing for a heartbeat as if he were savoring this ridiculous softness like it was wine after months of rations. “Ky,” Darius murmured, “you sound like you want her to brand you or put a collar on you.”

  Kylar’s eyes widened just a fraction, then he huffed a laugh that surprised even him. He grinned, the expression quick and boyish before he reined it in. “Something that says ‘property of the Princess of Tearia.’ Or a tattoo.”

  Darius’s eyes opened again, amused and sharp. “A tattoo?"

  Kylar’s tone went thoughtful, like he’d already pictured it. “A little lion crest somewhere she’d see when she wanted to remind herself.” He paused, then added more quietly, “Or a phoenix mark she’d put on me just to be spiteful.”

  Darius made a soft noise. “She seems like the kind of girl who would be spiteful."

  Kylar’s smile flickered again. “Yes.”

  This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  They both stood there for a moment, listening to the fort settle. A distant clink of armor. A low murmur from somewhere down the hall. The hush of a place that pretended it was safe while everyone who lived in it remembered it wasn’t. Darius shifted his weight and spoke again, tone gentler now, curiosity sliding under the humor. “Do they exchange rings in Tearia?” he asked.

  Kylar nodded. “Yes.”

  Darius’s mouth quirked. “Ah. I see. Yes, she could just marry you. Rings are pretty binding.”

  Kylar’s gaze slid sideways to him, dry as dust. “I think marriage is pretty binding.”

  Darius nodded solemnly, as if this was the most serious thing they’d discussed all day. “I’ve heard that rumor too.”

  Kylar huffed a laugh, then sobered, eyes drifting back to the cracked door.

  Darius followed that glance. “You’re serious about her.”

  Kylar didn’t answer immediately, which was answer enough.

  After a moment, he said quietly, “I’ve been serious about her longer than I’ve admitted out loud.”

  Darius stared at him for a handful of seconds, then said it like a man delivering an inevitable diagnosis: “So you really would do it. Tearian courting. The whole tournament of suitors.”

  Kylar’s expression went resigned, then stubborn. “If that’s what she wants.”

  Darius tilted his head. “You’d let other men court her?”

  Kylar’s jaw flexed once. “I’d hate every second.”

  “Then why agree?”

  Kylar’s eyes went distant, not dreamy, just… steady. “Because if she asked for that, it would mean she’s trying to take back something that was stolen from her. And I’m not going to be the man who tells her she can’t.”

  Darius’s grin faded, replaced by something quieter. Respect, maybe. Or understanding. Then he ruined it on purpose, because he was still his friend, and the one who Kylar came to most times he had too much on his mind. He leaned toward humor. “You’d be the angriest contestant in the history of courting,” he murmured. “Some poor noble boy offers her flowers and you punch him through a wall.”

  Kylar’s mouth twitched. “I wouldn’t punch him.”

  Darius waited.

  Kylar added, deadpan, “Unless he was smug about it.”

  Darius snorted. They stood for another moment, shoulders still squared toward the hall like they were on duty even while they talked like this. Then Darius said, softer again, “And what does she want? Do you know?”

  Kylar’s gaze flicked to the door. His voice lowered. “She wants to be allowed to be herself without punishment.”

  Darius nodded slowly. “That tracks. With everything else she has said."

  Kylar’s hand lifted again toward his chest, then stopped, remembering the missing weight. He let it drop. “She’s been… polite with Damon.”

  Darius made a sound like agreement, but it wasn’t unkind. “She’s letting him try.”

  “She laughs,” Kylar said quietly. “But it’s different.”

  Darius’s eyes shifted to him. “Different how?”

  Kylar hesitated, as if he didn’t want to claim too much. “With me she forgets she’s supposed to be careful.”

  Darius’s expression softened at that, just slightly, the way it did when he was looking at something he’d protect. “I saw that,” he admitted. “When you rode. When she leaned back. When she spoke without checking if her words fit in a court box first.”

  Kylar swallowed, throat working. “Hope she can always feel that safe with me."

  Darius tilted his head. “So where does that leave you? With your ring and your hopes and your… property tattoo fantasies.”

  Kylar’s lips curved faintly. “Still hoping.”

  Darius’s gaze sharpened again. “And Rush.”

  Kylar’s smile vanished like a candle snuffed. “Yes. Her brother.”

  Darius shifted his stance, boots quiet on stone. “Has he told you no.”

  Kylar stared down the hall. “Not yet.”

  Darius’s mouth twitched. “That’s not a yes.”

  Kylar’s eyes narrowed. “I know. Also hasn't killed me yet. Progress.”

  Darius studied him, then said quietly, “If he tries to force something on her, you’ll fight it.”

  Kylar didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”

  “If he tries to force something on you,” Darius added, “you’ll fight that too.”

  Kylar finally looked at him, and there was something stark and honest in his gaze. “I’ll do whatever keeps her safe.”

  Darius held that look, then nodded once, satisfied with the truth even if he didn’t like the shape of it. It felt too serious so he bent the conversation somewhere less. “So,” he said, voice low and wickedly amused, “if she ever actually does brand you…”

  Kylar’s eyes slid away, but the corner of his mouth lifted. “Dare.”

  Darius grinned. “What. I’m just saying. I’d like warning. I’d like to prepare myself emotionally for the day I see ‘Property of Tearia’ inked on the Prince’s shoulder.”

  Kylar’s quiet laugh escaped him. “If that day comes, you’re not allowed to tell Zen.”

  Darius’s grin turned feral. “Ky.”

  Kylar stared at him.

  Darius’s eyes glittered. “I will tell Zen immediately.”

  Kylar closed his eyes in defeat. “I hate you.”

  “No you don’t,” Darius said, fond as a brother. “You’d be dead without me.”

  Kylar opened his eyes again, gaze drifting to the door, to the girls sleeping inside.

  His voice softened. “Thanks, Dare.”

  Darius’s grin eased into something steadier. “Anytime, Ky.”

  Kylar’s smile thinned into something more intent, like he’d just spotted a loose board on a bridge and couldn’t stop staring at it until he knew whether it would hold. He couldn’t leave it alone and he wanted to poke fun a little bit. “Since you’re her guard,” he said quietly, “are you going to freeze up every time she mistakes you for me?”

  Darius went very still. Not offended. Not angry. Just… caught. Like the question had hit a tender bruise he hadn’t admitted was there. “Hopefully,” Darius said after a beat, voice flat with forced practicality, “I never have to be holding her after a life-threatening situation.”

  Kylar only looked at him. That look did what it always did. It didn’t accuse. It didn’t shout. It just waited, patient as a blade.

  Darius held his gaze. “Okay,” he admitted. “You have a point. I’m her guard. I will probably have to carry her out of places again at some point.”

  Kylar’s mouth curved. A quiet, almost helpless chuckle. “If she will let you.”

  Darius huffed. “She isn’t heavy. I can just grab her and go.”

  Kylar tried to picture it. Tried and failed, because his mind supplied the exact likely outcome: Kairi digging in like the stubborn princess she was. “She would fight you every step of the way, Dare.”

  Darius glanced at him. The corner of his mouth tugged up. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

  Kylar didn’t bother pretending innocence. “I enjoy we can talk like this.” Then his expression sobered, the humor draining away like warmth leaving stone. Really looked at Darius who just looked at him like he always did. The man respected him and trusted him. And he trusted and respected Darius immensely. He always had. Trusting him with protecting her. Pointers, he had asked for pointers a couple days ago. “Also,” Kylar said, and there was weight in that single word, “one thing you should know and you should comfort her unless she tells you not to.”

  Darius’s posture shifted. Soldier to soldier. Guard to guard.

  “She is terrified of thunderstorms.”

  Darius blinked once. “Lots of people are scared of them.”

  Kylar shook his head. “Not scared, Darius. Terrified. It’s…” He gestured vaguely, searching for a shape that fit it. “Debilitating fear.”

  Darius’s brow furrowed. “She uses lightning as a weapon.”

  Kylar nodded, gaze going distant. “I think it’s a combination. The lightning and the thunder. Maybe the wind too.” His mouth tightened as another thought slid in. “She might not do well with fireworks either.”

  Darius’s eyes narrowed slightly as he processed. “There will be fireworks at your Name Day celebrations. During the masquerade.”

  Kylar exhaled like the words physically weighed him down. “I didn’t really pay attention to those meetings,” he admitted, grim. “Glad someone else did.”

  Darius shrugged, but it wasn’t teasing. It was just fact. “You tend to shy away from anything that is celebrating you.”

  Kylar didn’t argue that fact. Then Darius asked the question that mattered. “What should I do to comfort her?”

  Kylar’s gaze shifted to Kairi’s door, like he could see through the wood and into the shape of her sleeping. When he spoke again, his voice was careful, deliberate. Not instruction like an order, but like a man handing over a piece of his own map.

  “First,” he said quietly, “don’t try to talk her out of it.”

  Darius’s eyes flicked to him. “Meaning?”

  “Meaning don’t tell her it’s ‘fine’ or ‘nothing can hurt her’ or that she’s being unreasonable.” Kylar’s jaw tightened. “She knows it’s unreasonable. That’s part of what makes it worse.”

  Darius nodded once. “So… validate.”

  Kylar blinked, then gave him a faint look like why do you know that word. But he didn’t fight it. “Yes. Validate. But not like she’s fragile.” He paused. “Like she’s a person in danger.”

  Darius leaned back against the wall, absorbing. “Okay.”

  Kylar continued, voice low. “Second, give her something physical that doesn’t feel like you’re trapping her.”

  Darius’s mouth twitched. “Because if I trap her, she’ll knife me.”

  Kylar’s lips twitched too, but his eyes stayed serious. “Because being held down will make it worse. She needs choice.”

  Darius nodded, slow. “So what does ‘physical’ look like if not restraining.”

  Kylar thought a moment. “Offer your cloak. Offer your hand. Offer your shoulder. Let her pick.”

  Darius glanced toward the hall, like he was imagining it. “And if she’s already spiraling?”

  Kylar’s gaze sharpened. “Then you make the world smaller.”

  Darius’s brow lifted.

  Kylar gestured faintly with his hand. “Your voice. Close. Calm. Simple words. Not a lot. Just… anchors.”

  Darius nodded again. “Like what.”

  Kylar hesitated, then said it anyway, because it mattered more than pride. “Her name. Your name. Where she is. What’s real.” He swallowed. “If she’s shaking, tell her you’ve got her. Not forever. Not big promises. Just… now.”

  Darius’s expression went very still. He understood that. He’d carried men off battlefields with the same kind of now. “And the noise?” Darius asked. “Thunder is… loud.”

  Kylar’s eyes narrowed slightly, remembering. “If you can, get her somewhere enclosed. Thick walls. Under an awning. A stable. A cellar. Somewhere the sound dulls.”

  Darius nodded. “And if we can’t.”

  Kylar’s voice softened. “Then cover what you can. Your cloak around her shoulders. Your hand over her ears if she lets you.” A beat. “And keep her facing you, not the sky.”

  Darius studied him. “Does she dissociate?”

  Kylar’s throat worked. “Sometimes.” He didn’t elaborate, and Darius didn’t push. He just nodded like he’d filed it away under important and painful.

  “And… touch?” Darius asked carefully. “Does she want it or not want it.”

  Kylar exhaled slowly. “She wants it when she chooses it.” He looked at Darius. “If she grabs you, let her. If she pulls away, don’t chase.”

  Darius’s eyes shifted, intent. “Does she hide it. Before it hits.”

  Kylar’s mouth tightened. “Yes.” A quiet admission. “She tries to be brave until her body betrays her. So if you notice her getting sharp, or quiet, or… too controlled… ask once. Just once. ‘Are you okay?’” His eyes flicked away. “If she says yes but her hands are shaking, don’t argue with her words. Just stay near.”

  Darius nodded, then asked, blunt as always when he was serious: “Why is she terrified?”

  Kylar’s gaze went distant again. Older. Like something in him had learned this over years and still hated knowing it. “I don’t know,” he said honestly. “Not the root. She’s never told me why. I’ve… seen enough to know it’s not a simple fear.”

  Darius’s voice went softer. “So no forcing answers.”

  Kylar shook his head. “Never.” Then, more firmly: “If she tells you, listen. If she doesn’t, don’t make it a mission.”

  Darius nodded. “All right.” Then Darius’s eyes slid to Kylar. “Anything else.”

  Kylar’s mouth twitched, almost reluctant, like he didn’t want to admit this either.

  “Yes.” He hesitated. “When she’s terrified, she’ll sometimes turn angry. Not at you. At the world. At the sky. At anyone too close.”

  Darius nodded slowly. “So if she snaps, I don’t take it personal.”

  Kylar gave him a look. “You can take it personal later when she apologizes and makes you tea like she didn’t just verbally stab you.”

  Darius huffed a laugh. “She makes tea?”

  Kylar’s eyes softened. “She fixes things. That’s her default.”

  Darius nodded like that made perfect sense.

  Then Kylar added, quieter, like confession: “If she ever uses lightning in panic, don’t flinch away from her like she’s a monster.”

  Darius’s humor vanished. “I wouldn’t.”

  Kylar held his gaze. “Good.”

  A beat. Then Darius said, the bluntness back but gentler now, “And what do I do if she mistakes me for you again.”

  Kylar’s mouth curved, faint. “You don’t freeze.”

  Darius raised a brow.

  Kylar’s voice dropped. “You say her name. You tell her it’s you. And you let her be embarrassed without making it shame.”

  Darius nodded once. “Got it.”

  Kylar’s gaze slid to the door again, and his expression went a little tight around the edges.

  “And Dare?”

  Darius looked at him.

  Kylar spoke softly. “If the storm comes during my Name Day celebrations… and there are fireworks…”

  Darius’s eyes sharpened. “You want me on her.”

  Kylar nodded. “If I’m trapped in ceremony, yes. If I’m not, I’ll be there.” His jaw set. “But I’d rather she has you too. She trusts you.”

  Darius blinked, surprised by how much that mattered to him. “She’s… getting there.”

  Kylar’s mouth twitched. “She trusts you." He repeated for reassurance.

  Darius let out a slow breath. “All right.” He paused, then added, almost grudgingly affectionate: “I can do this.”

  Kylar nodded once, the smallest relief in it. “Good.”

  Darius glanced down the hall, then back. “And if she tells me to leave her alone.”

  Kylar didn’t hesitate. “Then you leave.”

  Darius nodded. “Even if she’s shaking.”

  Kylar’s gaze held his, steady and sure. “You leave, but you stay close enough to catch her if she falls. That’s the line.”

  Darius exhaled. “Phoenix Vessel. Terrified of storms. Hates being trapped. Might stab me with words. Might electrocute me. Might make me tea after.”

  Kylar’s mouth curved again, faint and real. “That’s about it.”

  Darius shook his head with a quiet, tired laugh. “I swear, guarding her is going to be a full time religion.”

  Kylar glanced toward the door, then back to him, eyes softening. “It is,” he said simply. “Just… try to be the kind one.”

  Darius nodded once, as if he’d just been handed a vow. “I can do kind,” he said. “I just might complain while doing it.”

  Kylar’s smile returned, brief and grateful. “Then you’ll fit right in"