Page 76 of A Shattered Kingdom of Steel

I hand it back to him, hilt first, the same way he passed it to me. “Where did you get it?”

“It was a gift,” he says slowly. “From my father. Before…” he swallows. His throat bobs, anguish wearing down his features. Cold and heavy like that of an executioner’s blade. “Before he learned of my mother’s infidelity.”

My demeanor softens. “What happened after that?”

“He never looked at me the same.” His diamond irises fix on some empty spot in front of us. “No matter what I did, it was never enough to earn his favor, because in his mind only blood makes a son. And all I am is evidence of his wife’s betrayal.”

“He thinks you’re…” My voice trails off. Heavy sorrow fills my chest. “He doesn’t believe you’re his son?”

“According to him, it isn’t possible.” Still avoiding my eyes, Asheros shakes his head. Bitterness seeps into his tone. “He’ll never say those words out loud. Gods-forbid someone overhears and causes a scandal.”

Gods.

That’s why he flinched when I called him a bastard what feels like years ago.

Guilt flares in my chest, giving way to the pain I know he must carry with him each day. Lacking the right words, I move my body closer to him, closing the gap between us, and place my palm on his thigh. “I’m so sorry.”

Asheros leans into my touch. “You have nothing to apologize for, Bladesinger.”

“I don’t,” I say, letting my anger on his behalf bleed through my words. “But your father does. His scorn is for your mother and your mother alone. The way he treats you…” I swallow all of the crass, unladylike things I want to say. “It’s not right.”

“If only everyone in this world cared as much for what is right as you do, my Bladesinger.” He looks at me with a tenderness in his gaze I’m coming to recognize.

I hold his stare, and for a moment, I want to lift my hand to his cheek.

He takes a breath, his head shaking a little. “I’ve accepted I may never have my father’s approval. Believe me, it took years of trying and failing before I finally made peace with it. Winning my father’s favor is a battle I’ll likely never win, not as long as he’s convinced the blood running through my veins isn’t his.”

“If that’s how he’s decided to be, then he doesn’t deserve you,” I tell him, my voice firm. “You, just as you are, are worth so much more than your father’s approval.”

Asheros’s crystalline eyes glisten, his mouth taut with emotion. Taking my hand, he presses my palm to his cheek and holds it there. “You have no idea of how good it feels to hear you say that.”

Emotions I can’t place surge through me, a need to show him how I feel overpowering any thought I could have in this moment. Brushing my thumb back and forth against his cheek, I lean forward slowly until his mouth meets mine.

Our first kiss was a battle that set my blood aflame with need. But this… This is soft and gentle.

This is more. So much more.

With each subtle movement—my mouth moving over his, the slide of my hand up his bare chest, the brush of our bodies—I pour myself into him, as if my lips can show him the veracity of my regard for him.

I’d scream it from the rooftops if it meant he would believe it.

Asheros’s mouth moves in time with mine, perfectly in tune with my rhythm. His hand slips from mine, and he wraps both of his arms around me, pulling me into his lap.

Though our mouths break from the kiss, we stay there, holding each other. We don’t speak, but there’s no need for words. Our embrace says everything it needs to.

Once the air feels lighter, I lean back far enough to look at him. “I never asked you about your shadows.”

“I’m surprised you waited this long,” Asheros muses, tracing circles on my waist with his thumb.

“I haven’t practiced magic in decades. Truth be told, once I joined the Guard, physical training was my focus.” Others split their attention between physical and magical training, honing their abilities and incorporating them into their combat routines. But not me. So much so, that I’ve just about entirely forgotten the little magic I’d learned. Not that I had been very good at it. “How do you do it?”

“Do what?” Asheros asks, glancing up at my face.

“Channel magic from the metal.”

“At first it was quite difficult. Conjuring is all about intentions, you see.” He pauses, pressing his lips together as though searching for the right words. “I find it easier if I’m touching the object I’m channeling from, though I’ve heard of more powerful fae who don’t need to touch the object in order to channel.”

“All right…” I nod like I understand, even though I’m not following.

---