The Sleepless King and the Nightlark

Chapter 8: Fragile Peace and a Stolen Kiss

FAELAN'S POV

The sun had barely begun to bleed over the horizon when I stirred awake. I groaned softly and stretched, waking from another deep sleep. I was sure I’d dreamed of something pleasant, though the details had already slipped away. That’s how good the rest had been.

My gaze immediately fell on the footboard. My precious bird was no longer perched there—only the golden lasso remained, tied to the metal bars. The other end… I didn’t need to look. I knew it was fastened around Aviona’s ankle.

I rose carefully from the bed, each step a whisper as I made my way behind the footboard, careful not to stir her.

There she was—curled on the cold floor, her dark hair a silken spill across her shoulders, my thin tunic draped over her small frame.

My chest ached.

She looked impossibly delicate, yet it was she who had given me peace enough to sleep at last.

I hovered there, caught between letting her sleep undisturbed and making her warm and comfortable—some small return for the solace she’d given me.

I chose the latter. Slowly, I knelt and gathered her into my arms. She whimpered softly, stirring just enough to shift against me, but did not wake.

I exhaled in quiet relief and carried her back to the bed, lowering her onto the sheets and drawing the blankets around her. Her small hand brushed mine—cold to the touch. I enclosed it gently, and before I realized it, my gaze lingered on her face.

Beautiful. Too beautiful to be kept here… yet I couldn’t bear the thought of anyone else seeing her.

I should have let her sleep in peace. Instead, I stayed—seated at the edge of the bed—watching her a while longer.

I must have stared too hard. And she must have felt it. Because suddenly her lashes fluttered, and her eyes flew open. She blinked, disoriented at first, but when the realization dawned that she wasn’t where she’d fallen asleep, her heartbeat quickened.

Her eyes widened as she scanned the room, then locked on me—as if I were someone she’d just seen in her nightmares. She sat up abruptly, clutching the blanket to her chest like a shield.

Her hands moved quickly. “Why am I here? What did you do to me?”

The accusation in her gaze burned hotter than the words she signed.

I raised both hands in surrender. “Calm down,” I said quietly. “I didn’t do anything. I only moved you here.”

Her brows knit together, suspicion still shadowing her face. “Why would you do that?”

“You were asleep on the floor,” I said, my voice firmer now, though I hated the edge of defensiveness in it. “You were freezing.”

Aviona’s eyes hardened, all traces of softness gone. “Don’t do that again. I don’t need your pity.”

The words stung more than they should have. I clenched my jaw to keep from snapping. I’d only tried to do something decent for once—and this was what I got.

Still, I let it pass, watching as she peeled the blankets away and shifted to stand, sliding off the bed.

Then came the faint click of a latch turning. My blood went cold.

The door. I’d forgotten to seal the bloody door.

Before I could move, the air filled with an all-too-familiar scent—thick, sweet, suffocating. Roses and jasmine, steeped in something expensive and overdone. Ingrid.

“Damn it,” I hissed under my breath.

Ravion had sent her again, despite my warning.

Instinct took over. I reached out, grabbed Aviona’s wrist, and pulled her back into the bed. She gasped, startled, but I didn’t have the luxury to explain.

Before she could push me away, I caged her beneath me—hands braced on either side, our bodies pressed close. Her lips parted in confusion a heartbeat before I silenced her with a kiss.

She went rigid beneath me, palms flat against my chest, eyes wide with alarm.

It was meant to be quick. Just long enough for Ingrid to see. But the instant my mouth met hers, the world tilted. When she gasped for air, I deepened the kiss. I felt her shiver, her pulse fluttering beneath my fingers. Her scent—wild forest, soft florals, and rain—slid beneath my skin, and for a breathless moment, I forgot everything.

All I could feel was her.

Then the door crashed open against the wall, followed by Ingrid’s sing-song voice. “My king, I came to check on—”

She froze mid-sentence. Even without looking, I could feel her shock filling the room.

Her voice snapped me out of it, forcing me to finally break the kiss. I turned just enough to glare at her. “What do you want, Ingrid?” I hissed, my voice edged with warning.

Ingrid’s perfume hung heavy in the air, cloying and sharp. I drew Aviona closer, tucking her face against my chest to shield her from view. She stiffened, but I could feel the frantic flutter of her heartbeat against mine.

Ingrid froze in the doorway, her painted lips parting in a soft gasp. “Oh,” she stammered, blinking rapidly. “I didn’t realize you had… company.”

I scowled. “Now you do,” I said coolly. “As you can see, I’m occupied. You can leave.”

She hesitated—but only for a breath. Her surprise melted into that familiar, poisonous smile I’d grown to despise. “Or,” she purred, stepping farther inside, “I could join. You used to enjoy more than one in your bed, if I recall correctly.”

Aviona stiffened beneath me, her body tensing in protest. She pushed at my chest, trying to slip away, but I caught her wrists easily, pulling her back. Her strength was nothing compared to mine, yet defiance burned through her trembling hands.

My gaze snapped back to Ingrid. “I don’t feel like sharing this one,” I said, low, deliberate, cruel. Then I pressed a possessive kiss to Aviona’s temple.

The smile faltered on Ingrid’s lips, though she tried to mask it with a brittle laugh. “Don’t want to share your new toy?” she drawled. “Who is she, anyway?”

I leaned back slightly, keeping Aviona close enough to stay hidden. “She’s mine,” I said evenly. “That’s all you need to know.”

Ingrid’s painted smile vanished. Her eyes flicked to Aviona—wearing my tunic, flushed, hair tousled from sleep—and I could almost feel the accusation forming on her tongue. I didn’t give her the chance.

“Do you mind? I’m busy,” I said, my hand sliding over Aviona’s exposed leg. “Leave. Now.”

Ingrid’s face hardened, but she bowed stiffly. “As you wish, my King.” The title dripped with resentment. She turned and swept from the room, slamming the door hard enough for the hinges to groan.

I sealed the door with magic the instant it clicked shut. I wouldn’t take any chances. Ingrid might still be scheming a way back.

Aviona pushed—finally, with all her strength.

Tears streamed down her face, glistening like dew in the morning sun. When she lifted her eyes to mine, I saw frustration, hurt… maybe even disgust.

I knew, before she even spoke, that the words she would hurl at me would sting. I couldn’t let her form them. My hands closed around her wrists, holding her fast. She whimpered, sobs rattling through her chest, wriggling against me with all the strength she could muster.

I released a long, shaky breath, letting some of the tension drain from my shoulders. “I’m sorry,” I said quietly, almost pleading.

Her sobs didn’t stop. I swallowed hard, forcing the words out again, firmer this time. “I just wanted… to make her go away.”

She hissed in anger, yanking her hands free with all her might. Her hands moved immediately. “You’re a king. You can order her to leave.”

I chuckled, humorless. “You don’t know Ingrid.”

She didn’t answer, keeping her fists tightly clasped in her lap.

Only quiet, shuddering sobs filled the room. At last, she wiped at her tears with the back of her hand, trying to erase the evidence of her vulnerability, and without a sound, slid off the bed.

I watched her back as she moved away slowly. Then my eyes caught a subtle sway, a falter in her balance.

“Aviona,” I called. “Are you all right?”

She turned slightly, just enough for me to see how pale her skin had grown, her lips tinged almost purple. When she looked away, she swayed again. Instinct took over—I lunged forward, catching her before she could hit the hard, cold floor.

"Aviona!"