Page 15 of Burning Her Beautiful
In the hush Iliana hums—three notes, clear and bright. Runes beneath my skin surge in answer. Violet sparks snake from my fingertips, dancing across vines, igniting petals until each glows soft violet. Awe rolls through the crowd, shivering against my skin.
I focus on Iliana. Her eyes gleam with wonder I have earned, not stolen. The sight rips open a space behind ribs where only duty once lived.
Above, Asmodeus stands, hands on rail. His face remains unreadable, yet he nods once. Approval. Sarivya’s smile falters. Victory tastes wicked sweet.
As guests resume breathing, I step close to Iliana, voice low. “You held firm.”
“And you did not fail,” she whispers back.
Guests surge forward to marvel at flowers. In the commotion Sarivya advances, expression lacquered sweet. I meet her halfway, blocking approach.
“Impressive,” she says. “But control can slip. Vines strangle if unchecked.”
I lean near, whisper so only she hears. “So can ambition.” I let chaos flicker in eyes, tiny tongues of power dancing. Sarivya pales a shade. She retreats, skirts brushing vine leaves that curl politely aside.
Later, when music swells again and guests toast my name, I guide Iliana to balcony overlooking storm clouds. Petals drift around us, glowing embers in night breeze. She leans on rail, face lit by soft violet.
“You tamed the garden,” she says.
“I merely set it free in proper direction.”
Her gaze meets mine. Under moon hung low, her features soften. “Why does freedom for me feel bound by threads I cannot see?”
I swallow, step nearer. “Because I bind myself to you, and thus you share my chains.”
Complicated truth. She searches my face. “What if I ask you to break them?”
My chest cracks with the thought. “I might.” I lift hand, brush knuckles along her jaw. “But the world beyond these clouds is no gentler. I would need to follow.”
She smiles faintly, sadness flickering. “Storms travel with the wind.”
I close distance, press forehead to hers. “Iliana.” The name tastes like confession. “Whatever path you choose, my storm follows.”
Cries erupt inside hall—cheers at some toast. We remain in hush spun between hearts. I feel her breath mingle with mine, warm and steady.
At last she steps back, hand sliding from my chest. “Take me home, Varok.”
Home. Not cell. Hope knifes through doubts. I escort her through halls fragrant with vine blooms. Servants bow, eyes wide. I barely note them, mind caught on new word echoing.
In my tower vestibule she thanks Garrik for escort. He bows politely but shoots me a knowing look that sharpens my own awareness. Desire thrums, raw and immediate, yet I guide her to her door, not my bed. She pauses, studying me.
“You could claim reward,” she murmurs.
“I could,” I agree, voice husky. “Instead, I savor restraint.” My hand lifts of its own volition, fingertips tracing the curve of her lower lip once. She parts lips, breath soft. The moment stretches taut. I drop my hand. “Rest.”
She steps inside, eyes never leaving mine until door seals.
I turn away, heart pounding so hard I taste copper. I stride into my chamber, yank off coat, toss blade onto desk. My reflection glares from crystal pane—ravenous, haunted. I slam fist into wall. Stone cracks but holds.
“I am in ruin,” I whisper, breathing hard. “And I welcome the collapse.”
Crimson runes on my arms flare, mirroring storm outside. I sink onto chair, bury head in hands. The vines, the king’s approval, none of it cools the fever twisting through me. I fear not the peril ahead, but the measureless depth of what I would surrender for the woman humming storms into being.
Outside, thunder rolls. Inside, my obsession roots deeper, fed by the echo of her heartbeat I felt beneath emerald silk. I do not know whether it will bloom into salvation or devour crown and kingdom whole.
But as petals drift through open casement, glowing violet even in darkness, I accept the dangerous truth.
I no longer wish to be her executioner, her captor, or even her savior.
