CHAPTER 90: I’M NOT AFRAID

Ilaria’s world combusted in a blink of an eye.

Huh?

Her hands hovered awkwardly in midair, still brushing lightly against his. Her eyes widened, a soft pink colouring her cheeks. "W-what...?" she whispered, lost and confused. She gave a tentative tap on his hand, as if testing whether it was real or it was just one of her delusional thoughts again.

Her heart raced, and for a moment she recoiled slightly, pulling her hands back to her her chest as if he had physically blown her away. "We... we’re... touching just now."

Levan did not even flinch at her reaction.

He had expected it, the way she would draw back, eyes wide and voice trembling, clutching her hands to her chest like he had said something scandalous. Of course, she would. He had seen it coming from the moment the words left his mouth, but hearing them out loud still made him uneasy.

He sighed quietly through his nose, his gaze dropping for a heartbeat before lifting back to her. His expression was unreadable, calm to a fault, but his silence said everything: Of course she would misunderstood. Of course she would look at him like that.

Ilaria’s pulse fluttered as she regarded him in silence. He was not teasing her. He was not smirking or wearing that unreadable half-amused look he sometimes did when she said something silly. He just stood there, eyes heavy with something she did not quite understand.

It startled her more than his words.

Because she had never seen him look... uncertain. Levan was all control, always the calm center of every storm. But now, he looked almost... hesitant? Pained, even. And for some reason, that made her stomach twist.

Touch, her mind repeated blankly, as if the word itself suddenly took on a dozen meanings she had not considered before.

Oh.

Her fingers twitched against her chest, heat rising to her cheeks before she could stop it.

"Touch..." she murmured, half-under her breath, trying the word out as if it were foreign. Then, before she could think better of it, she looked up at him, the corners of her lips curving slightly.

"So... you mean—" she started, voice lilting, that familiar spark of brightness creeping in despite the pink dusting her face as she leaned in slightly, "—that kind of touch?"

Levan stared at her.

"...What?" he said flatly.

It was not even disbelief, just pure, world-weary resignation. The kind that said of course this was how the conversation was going to go simply because it was her. His brows lowered ever so slightly, a muscle ticking at the corner of his jaw as he opened his mouth to say something, only to look away.

Ilaria, of course, did not help. Her eyes were wide and bright with mischief now, the earlier shyness replaced by a teasing smile that she was clearly trying and failing to hide.

"You asked if you could touch me," she said, her tone all innocent curiosity, though the tilt of her head betrayed her playfulness. "I just thought... you already are."

Levan looked back at her. He had fought beasts, stood against storms, walked into the Expanse alone before, but somehow, nothing tested his composure like this woman standing before him with that look on her face.

"...That’s not what I meant," he muttered, finally lowering his hand and giving her a long, unreadable look that was half stern, half defeated.

"Oh?" she asked, leaning forward slightly, voice soft but coy. "Then what did you mean, husband?"

Levan stared at her like she had just declared war on his sanity.

But she only tilted her head, all happy and innocence, that faint smile tugging at her lips. "What?" she asked softly. "You’re the one being mysterious. If you don’t tell me what you meant, how am I supposed to know?"

Levan exhaled through his nose, his patience thinning, though not from anger, more from the unbearable ache of her being her. "It’s not—" he paused, jaw tightening, "—something I can explain easily."

She folded her arms, unconvinced. "Then don’t make it difficult. You said you don’t want to force me, right? So at least let me understand what you mean before you start looking all gloomy again."

His gaze flicked toward her. "Aria."

"Hm?"

He hesitated only for a moment before admitting. "...I’m reluctant to leave you again," he said, the words softer and strained. "Not after what happened. I can’t be at ease knowing you’re here, even behind wards."

Something inside her melted at that. The quiet sincerity in his voice, the way he said it like a confession he had not meant to let slip. Her heart gave a helpless flutter and warmth bloomed in her chest in an instant.

Oh

... she thought, lips parting slightly, an ache of tenderness spreading through her. He was not just being overprotective, he was worried, truly worried, and for some reason, that made her want to smile and cry at once.

"Then just let me follow you," she said earnestly. "I promise I won’t be a burden."

"It’s not about you being a burden," he snapped a little too quickly, then sighed. "It’s about the fact that I can’t gamble with your life."

"But—"

"Aria." His tone dropped, shaking his head. "You don’t understand what’s out there. And if something happens again, I don’t think I can forgive myself."

That silenced her for a beat. Her lips pressed into a thin line as she studied him, eyes darting between the flicker of the lantern and his face. Then, curiosity sparked again.

"Then..." she pondered. "...what were you trying to do earlier? When you asked about touching."

Levan’s head tipped slightly, wary. "That."

"Yes, that," she pressed, a little stubborn now. "You said you wanted to protect me and that you don’t want to do something I don’t want. So what did you mean?"

Levan looked like he regretted something, but he was quick to regain his composure.

"...Do you know about resonance?" he asked carefully, eyes never leaving her face.

Ilaria blinked, caught off guard. "Resonance?" she repeated. "You mean... the bond thing between people?"

She had heard of the concept before in passing, in stories whispered by the old healers and temple keepers. They said it was the thread that once linked warriors to their chosen, a bond of soul and breath so strong it defied distance and death alike.

Some compared it to fate itself, others to an echo that never faded, a vibration that lingered between two hearts tuned to the same rhythm. But beyond the old myths and temple whispers, it was really just a natural thing, or so people said.

It was a connection formed when two lives aligned long enough through shared breath, shared time, shared warmth. It was not always mystical; sometimes it simply happened when a man and a woman stayed close that their energies syncing until one heartbeat seemed to answer the other.

He inclined his head. "Something like that."

Her brows knit together. Then carefully, she asked, "You mean... like when married couples are together on the bed?"

She made a tiny gesture with her fingers, two fingertips meeting in a kiss.

Levan’s brain short-circuited.

The silence that followed was palpable. His jaw went slack for a second before he caught himself, hand immediately shooting forward to clasp hers, dragging them down, startling the curious princess who thought she was only answering his question.

His fingers tightened around hers, his composure slipping for the first time that night. "Don’t—" he exhaled sharply through his nose, glaring down at her hands as if they had just committed a grave offense. "Don’t make weird gestures."

"I wasn’t!" she protested, eyes wide and tone terribly innocent. "I was answering you!"

"That’s not an answer, that’s—" he broke off, pinching the bridge of his nose as if her logic physically pained him. "That’s not what I meant by resonance."

"But you said—"

"I know what I said," he interjected, trying very hard not to sound exasperated but failing anyway.

Ilaria pouted, muttering, "Then maybe explain it better next time. You say it all cryptic and then get mad when I guess."

Levan blinked at her, disbelief flickering across his face before he dragged a hand down it with a low groan. "Why are we even arguing right now?" he muttered under his breath, half to himself, half to the stubborn little creature standing before him.

"I’m not arguing," she said primly, crossing her arms. "You’re the one getting all defensive."

He stared at her flatly. "Because you—" He stopped himself, exhaled hard, then finally relented. "...Fine. Listen."

His voice softened, his frustration ebbing into something steadier as he placed his hands on her shoulders. "What I meant wasn’t that. Resonance isn’t... physical, not like that. It’s an old practice of connection. A bond that lets one feel each other even from far away."

He met her eyes, tone quiet now. "If it works, I’d know when something’s wrong, and you’d be safe even when I’m not here."

Her lips parted slightly, her earlier teasing faltering at the gravity in his tone. "...Oh," she whispered, as if only just understanding. "Then... why did you need to touch me?"

Levan hesitated. His thumbs brushed absently against her shoulders before he drew in a quiet breath. "Because resonance needs intent," he explained. "It isn’t something that happens on its own. It asks for a bridge, a moment where both sides choose. Physical contact helps focus that link."

Her brows knit slightly, curiosity still glimmering beneath the softness of her expression. "So... it’s like a promise?"

He hummed. "Yes." He searched her face, noting the hesitation there. "But if you don’t want it... if it frightens you or feels wrong, then I won’t." His voice lowered, careful and sincere. "I’ll think of another way to keep you safe."

The lanternlight wavered between them, painting his face in gold and shadow, and Ilaria found herself caught by how much he was trying to hold back, and how much he could not. Something ached inside her chest.

He always spoke like that, so careful, so restrained, as if every word might shatter something fragile between them. But she could see the truth in his eyes, that this was not about control or command. It was about something that runs deeper: Fear.

Fear of breaking what they had barely begun to mend. Fear of reaching for something he thought he no longer deserved.

And she realized, with a soft ache, that if they kept waiting for the perfect moment, for safety, for certainty... they would never move at all. How many times would they stand like this, with silence between them, hearts trembling but never meeting halfway?

So she moved.

Without another word, she stepped forward and leaned into him, wrapping her arms around his waist and pressing her cheek to his chest. The motion was small and quiet, but it carried all the answer he needed.

"You don’t have to think of another way," she murmured, voice trembling but sure. "If it’s you... then I’m not afraid."