chapter 33

CHAPTER 33

The first light of dawn crept through the heavy drapes, casting a soft glow over the tangled sheets and the two figures wrapped in each other's warmth.

Adam stirred first, his eyes blinking open to find Alissa nestled against his chest, her dark lashes resting against flushed cheeks. Her hair spilled across the pillows, her bare skin glowing in the morning light.

For a moment, he only watched her-memorizing the way she breathed, the way her fingers lightly curled against his arm as if afraid he would disappear.

He smiled, pressing a kiss to her forehead. She was his.

But as the weight of reality began settling over him, doubt crept in.

What now?

She was the princess of Valla, betrothed to a prince of Aethelgar. What they had done last night... it could never be undone.

And he did not regret a single moment.

Alissa shifted, a soft hum escaping her lips as she stretched against him, her green eyes fluttering open. When she saw him, her smile was radiant, pure, unguarded.

"Good morning." Her voice was hushed, as if she feared shattering the fragile moment between them.

Adam tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, his fingers lingering against her cheek. "Morning."

Alissa studied him, her expression unreadable for a moment before she propped herself up on one elbow. "You're thinking too much," she murmured.

He let out a quiet chuckle. "It's hard not to."

Alissa reached for his hand, threading her fingers through his. "Then don't."

She pulled him closer, her lips brushing his, soft and lingering. As if last night had not changed everything. As if the world beyond this room did not exist.

And for now, Adam let himself believe it.

Then a knock

"Your highness, your father request your presence" said one of the palace maids.

"Do not come in,I will be him shortly!" She shouted as Adam chuckles.

---

Alissa sighed and slipped out of bed, the warmth of Adam's body still lingering on her skin. She moved gracefully, retrieving the dress she had discarded the night before. Adam watched as she slipped it over her head, the fabric cascading down her body, hiding the marks of his touch.

He propped himself up on one elbow, smirking slightly. "You're not going to fix your hair?"

Alissa shot him a look through the mirror as she fastened the laces at the back of her gown. "You want me to face my father with tangled hair and a guilty expression?"

Adam chuckled, standing up and moving behind her. He gently brushed his fingers through her hair, smoothing out the knots. Their reflections met in the mirror, and for a moment, he just held her gaze.

"Be careful, Alissa."

She turned to face him fully, stepping onto her toes to press one last soft kiss to his lips. "Always."

Then, without another word, she straightened her posture, smoothing her skirts as she made her way to the door. When she opened it, she was once again the princess of Valla-the girl who carried duty on her shoulders.

And as the door shut behind her, Adam ran a hand through his hair, exhaling.

He knew they had stolen something precious last night. But whether it was a fleeting dream or something more, only time would tell.

-----

The grand hall of Aethelgar's court was cast in the golden glow of torches, their flickering flames stretching shadows along the towering pillars. King Tommen sat upon his throne, a heavy silence filling the chamber as he listened to the noblemen before him speak of matters of trade and alliances. Hosea stood to the side, dressed in dark finery, his face unreadable as he observed the proceedings.

The doors swung open, and a court messenger strode forth, his cloak billowing behind him as he knelt before the throne. "Your Grace, word has come from Valla."

Tommen barely shifted, his fingers drumming against the armrest. "Speak."

The messenger lowered his gaze. "It is of Princess Alissa Valois. She has been accepted into the Citadel, the first woman to ever earn such an honor."

A murmur spread through the gathered nobles, whispers of intrigue and astonishment rippling like a wave. Tommen, however, remained still, his face betraying nothing.

From where he stood, Hosea's grip on his wrist tightened, though his expression did not change. "The Citadel," he mused, voice smooth yet devoid of warmth. "So she is to be a scholar now, a wielder of knowledge and wisdom."

One of the lords present scoffed. "A woman among the scholars? It is folly."

Another, older and more measured, nodded thoughtfully. "And yet, if she has been accepted, it must mean she is gifted indeed." He turned to the king. "A great honor for Valla, Your Grace. The people will rally behind her."

Tommen exhaled slowly, a flicker of something unreadable passing through his gaze. "A great honor, indeed." His voice was even, but there was a weight beneath it.

Hosea's gaze remained fixed upon his father, studying his reaction with quiet scrutiny. "Does this change aught for us?" he asked.

Tommen finally met his son's eyes. "It changes nothing." His voice was firm. "Valla remains what it is-small, weak. The Citadel does not grant crowns, nor does it wield swords."

Hosea tilted his head slightly. "No, but knowledge is its own power."

The murmurs in the court quieted. Tommen stared at his son for a long moment before letting out a short, humorless chuckle. "Perhaps. But knowledge will not save them when war comes."

Hosea did not look away, nor did he press further. Instead, he inclined his head in a way that could almost be mistaken for deference. "As you say, Father."

The court discussion moved on, but Hosea remained thoughtful, his mind turning. The girl who was to be his bride was no ordinary princess. The weight of her name was beginning to grow, and with it, the shape of the game they all played shifted ever so slightly.

----

The morning sun cast its golden light through the high windows of Alistair's study, its warmth stretching across the stone floor and heavy wooden furniture. He sat behind his desk, fingers idly twisting the quill between them, though his thoughts lay elsewhere. Beyond the thick doors, the palace stirred with life-servants moving through corridors, guards taking their posts-yet within these walls, there was only silence.

The door creaked open. Alistair did not lift his head. He knew who it was.

"I knew you would come," he murmured.

Elias leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, his gaze fixed on Alistair with quiet amusement, though something deeper burned beneath it. "You always know."

The door shut softly behind him as he moved forward, each step slow and deliberate. He perched upon the edge of the desk, fingers grazing the parchment strewn across its surface, not bothering to look at them. Instead, his eyes remained on Alistair, watching, waiting.

Alistair finally lifted his gaze. "What do you want?"

Elias tilted his head, a smirk ghosting his lips. "I missed you."

His voice was low, rich with meaning, and the space between them grew taut with unspoken words. Before Alistair could respond, Elias leaned in, his lips grazing just below his ear, his breath warm against his skin.

"This is not the place," Alistair murmured, though his fingers had already settled upon Elias' thighs, his grip firm yet hesitant.

Elias let out a quiet chuckle. "We have done far worse in every corner of this room."

Alistair drew a breath, perhaps to argue, but Elias silenced him with a kiss-deep and unyielding, his hand curling into Alistair's hair as if to claim him. For a fleeting moment, Alistair resisted, his grip tightening, as though torn between duty and desire. But then he yielded, fingers pulling Elias closer, the chair beneath him scraping against the stone as Elias straddled his lap.

Alistair's breath was uneven as Elias' lips trailed down his jaw, lingering at the base of his throat. His self-control wavered, his hands gripping Elias' waist-but a sharp knock upon the door made him stiffen.

Elias only smirked against his skin.

"The palace is awake," Alistair warned, his voice hushed.

Elias exhaled a quiet laugh, then, with no further word, slid from his lap and knelt before him. His hands parted Alistair's legs with ease, his touch confident, knowing.

Alistair barely managed to stifle a sound, his own hand clamping over his mouth as pleasure overcame restraint. His free hand found Elias' hair, fingers trembling slightly as he held on, his body tensing beneath the weight of it all.

Elias' gaze flickered upward, watching him through half-lidded eyes, taking in the rare sight of Alistair undone beneath him.

When it was over, Elias leaned back, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. A slow, satisfied smile curled upon his lips. "Oh, the look on Prince Alistair of House Valois' face," he murmured, his tone thick with amusement.

Alistair glared, his breath still uneven, but before he could recover, Elias was upon him once more, pushing him back against the desk, his body pressing firm against his. He kissed him hard, fingers grasping at his collar, and this time, Alistair did not resist.

The parchment scattered to the floor, forgotten. The morning continued beyond these walls, but within this chamber, nothing else existed.

-----

The corridor was quiet as Alissa moved swiftly, the silk of her robe brushing against her skin. The chill of the morning air kissed her exposed collarbone, but she barely noticed. Her mind raced, wondering why her father had summoned her so early.

The maid who had come to fetch her walked a few steps ahead, her posture stiff with the weight of her message. Alissa's heart pounded as they approached her father's study. The guards standing at the door exchanged a glance before pushing it open without a word.

She stepped inside, the scent of parchment and burning wood filling her senses. King Mathias sat at his desk, his broad shoulders tense. The morning light streaming through the window illuminated the deep lines on his face, a face that had seen too much battle, too much loss.

Alissa hesitated for only a moment before stepping forward. "You called for me, Father?"

Mathias lifted his gaze to meet hers. There was warmth in his eyes, but also something else-something unreadable. He exhaled, setting down the quill he had been holding.

"Come here, Alissa." His voice was steady, but softer than usual.

She moved toward him, her bare feet making no sound on the rug. As she reached his desk, he leaned back in his chair, studying her as if searching for something in her face.

"You look just like your mother," he said at last, his voice quieter now. "Especially in that color."

Alissa glanced down at her robe. Blue-her mother's favorite color. A small smile tugged at her lips. "You've told me that before."

"And I will say it again." Mathias's lips curved slightly, but the expression faded as he straightened. He gestured to the chair across from him. "Sit."

She did, folding her hands in her lap as she waited.

A silence stretched between them, heavy but not uncomfortable. Then, at last, Mathias spoke.

"The Citadel," he said. "I imagine you are still in disbelief."

Alissa swallowed, nodding. "It feels... unreal."

Mathias exhaled through his nose, a hint of pride flickering in his gaze. "You are the first. The first woman they have ever allowed. That is no small thing."

"I know," she murmured. "I will not fail you."

He watched her for a long moment before shaking his head. "It is not me you must prove yourself to, Alissa. It is them. And, more importantly, it is yourself."

She bit her lip, nodding once.

Mathias leaned forward, resting his forearms on the desk. "This path you have chosen will not be easy. There will be those who doubt you. Those who wish to see you fail. You must be stronger than them."

"I will be."

His gaze lingered on her, as if trying to commit her to memory. Then, with a slow nod, he sat back. "Good."

Alissa felt the weight in her chest ease slightly. She had expected this conversation to be different-to be filled with warnings or even hesitation. But instead, her father was giving her his trust.

She stood, walking around the desk to where he sat. Without a word, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders. For a moment, Mathias remained still, then he sighed and embraced her in return, his grip strong and steady.

"You will make me proud, daughter," he murmured.

Alissa closed her eyes, holding onto the moment. "I hope so."