Elara arrived at the indoor stables, the earthy scent of hay and leather blending with the faint musk of the horses. The steady shuffle of hooves and the occasional whicker of a restless stallion filled the air. She paused at the entrance, her gaze immediately drawn to him.
Darius stood near one of the stalls, his broad back facing her. He was removing the horse's bridle, his hands deftly working to unbuckle the leather straps around the horse's face. His movements were fluid, precise—too practiced to be anything less than second nature.
Elara stood silently, her eyes tracing the curve of his shoulders, the strength evident even through the fabric of his shirt. For a moment, she hesitated, watching him as if trying to memorize this version of him—calm, focused, and distant.
Her thoughts betrayed her, though. 'How did we get here ?' she wondered. Once, they had been something more. Now, they were strangers forced into proximity by duty and fate.
Still, a quiet, treacherous part of her wished for the impossible—that they could go back. But wishes were fantasy, and reality... reality had taught her one harsh truth: when someone hurts you once, they will do it again.
Her lips moved silently as the thought passed through her mind. She took a deep breath and began walking toward him, her footsteps muffled by the straw-lined floor. His disheveled short black hair caught her attention first—a far cry from his usual sharp appearance. His hands, though... oh, his hands. They were powerful and sure, the same hands that had once held her.
She shook her head, trying to banish the memory of his touch. The bathroom scene, with its charged intimacy and betrayal, crept back into her mind. She clenched her fists and pushed it aside. Focus .
When she finally reached him, she stopped beside his horse. Her lips parted as if to speak, but no words came. She hesitated, unsure of how to address him. Should she call him by his name? Should she command him as his queen?
He remained crouched, pretending not to notice her presence. Pretending, because Elara knew better. Darius could hear a skilled warrior sneaking up on him in the chaos of battle; he certainly knew she was there.
"Elara?" His voice broke the silence, smooth and low, carrying a weight that sent a shiver down her spine.
Her breath hitched, and she stepped around the horse to face him. There he was, crouched on the other side, his piercing blue eyes meeting hers with an intensity that made her heart stutter.
She stared at him for a moment too long, her thoughts tangling. 'Why does he have to say my name like that?' she wondered. His voice seemed to carve a path straight to her core, leaving her disarmed in a way that no one else ever had.
"What is it?" Darius asked, tilting his head slightly. His gaze remained steady, unwavering, as if he were trying to read her thoughts.
'Look who's looking up at who now ,' she thought wryly, refusing to answer immediately.
She should have sent Given in her place. She should have stayed with Leroy and avoided this confrontation. But instead, she had come here—drawn to this infuriating man whose presence unsettled her.
"I'm..." Her voice faltered as he stood, towering over her. She craned her neck to meet his gaze, her mouth slightly open in surprise.
Darius noticed the expression, a flicker of amusement softening his features. The ghost of a smirk tugged at the corners of his lips, and he raised an eyebrow, waiting for her to continue.
Elara swallowed hard, the movement catching his attention. Everything that she did , he noticed , even though subtle or hidden , he always will notice ; because he was too obsessed to not know what she did in the last past hours without him there. She on the other hand could feel the heat of his gaze, and it unnerved her.
"Why aren't you joining us?" she asked finally, dropping her eyes to the floor to avoid his. Her words sounded forced, clipped, and she winced internally at how weak they seemed although they still carried desperation.
Darius straightened, wiping his hands with the cloth. "I was tending to my horse," he said simply. "Then, as your head of guard, I planned to join the others to ensure the princess's safety as she holds something valuable for you. I wouldn't want you to lose that too ."
The emphasis on the words you and yours weren't lost on Elara. It was subtle but deliberate, and it made her pulse quicken. He had a way of making everything about her, and it drove her mad. In good sick way . In a bad hot way .
"No," she said quickly, her voice sharper than she intended. "As my head of guard, you should be with me."
The words hung in the air, and Elara immediately regretted them. They sounded desperate, almost pleading, and she hated how vulnerable they made her feel. She squeezed her eyes shut, cursing herself.
Before she could retreat further into her thoughts, she felt his hand—a light touch against the side of her head. Her eyes flew open, and a jolt of panic shot through her.
"Join us in the study," she said hastily, stepping back. "I need you ."
And with that, she fled, her heart pounding in her chest as she left him behind.