CHAPTER 48: SLAVE TO THE HEAT

SOREN

She walked away like fire given form—her robes trailing behind her, crimson bleeding into shadow, every step deliberate and final. I stayed on the bench long after she’d disappeared through the archway, frozen in the space she’d just occupied, my chest doing something strange and uncomfortable.

The garden felt warmer now.

Not from the braziers lining the path, or the summer heat that clung to Solmire like a second skin. This was different. This came from her... from the way her presence had saturated the air until even the stones seemed to hum with it.

I exhaled slowly, and the breath came out unsteady.

Her perfume lingered. Something dark and sweet, like burning amber mixed with night-blooming jasmine. It wrapped around me, invasive and intoxicating, curling into my lungs until I couldn’t tell if I was breathing her in or if she’d simply branded herself into my senses.

I leaned back against the bench, letting my head tip toward the sky.

The stars above Solmire were different from Nevareth’s. Brighter, somehow. Closer. As if the heat rising from the kingdom pulled them down just to watch.

My hand drifted to my mouth, fingers pressing against my lips as if that could somehow contain the inferno building inside me.

It didn’t work.

A grin cracked through anyway, sharp and helpless and completely inappropriate given the circumstances. I felt it spreading across my face like wildfire, and I couldn’t stop it. Didn’t want to stop it.

Gods, what was wrong with me?

I’d fought in that arena today. Faced down eight champions... some of the wildest warriors Solmire had to offer... and walked away without so much as breaking a sweat.

The disguise spell had held perfectly, woven tight enough that even the sharpest eyes hadn’t been able to pierce it. Years of practice made invisibility second nature. But before her...

I pressed my hand harder to my mouth, trying to smother the grin that refused to die.

I’d watched from the stands, tucked into the crowd like any other spectator. The chaos had been glorious... blood and sand and desperation colliding in the center ring. I’d told myself I was there out of curiosity. Diplomatic interest. A chance to see how Solmire’s warriors measured up to Nevareth’s. It wasn’t the first time I’d witness it after all.

But then the Herald had announced the prize.

A single wish from the Queen herself. Anything the heart desires.

I’d heard the rule many times. Yet something in me had shifted.

It wasn’t rational. It wasn’t even smart. But the moment those words left the Herald’s mouth, an idea bloomed in my mind... wicked, reckless, utterly irresistible.

What would Eris grant me if I won?

I didn’t know. Couldn’t even begin to guess. But the pull of it, the sheer possibility of standing before her and demanding something, anything, from those burning lips...

I’d been moving before I’d even made the decision.

Down from the stands. Through the holding quarters. Into the armor I’d stashed there days ago, just in case. The spell had come easily after that, familiar as breathing, and by the time I stepped into the arena, I was no longer Soren Nivarre, Emperor of Nevareth.

I was no one.

A ghost.

A stranger.

And I’d fought like a man desperate.

Now, sitting in her garden with her scent still clinging to my clothes, I let myself remember the way she’d looked when she finally came down from the pavilion. The way the crowd had parted for her like water around stone. The way her eyes had found mine through the visor, sharp and searching, as if she could peel back the steel and see straight through to the truth.

"Why have you refused to reveal yourself?"

Even now, the memory of her voice sent something hot spiraling through my chest.

And tonight... gods, tonight... the way she’d spoken about me. About him. The stranger. Even when she knew but refused to admit it.

"I remember him only for his brazen audacity and foolishness."

She’d said it like an insult. Like dismissal. But her eyes had burned when she spoke, and her hands had clenched into fists, and I’d seen the way her jaw tightened when I laughed.

She was irritated.

By me.

And that fury,

it hooked into me, thrilling deeper than any conquest, any blade’s kiss, sending blood rushing hot and insistent to my core.

I released my mouth, the grin erupting unchecked, savage, as my hand dropped to my thigh, inches from the rigid length begging for friction.

What was happening to me?

I’d faced down magical beasts without flinching. Buried creatures that would have crushed me the moment I turned my back.

I’d walked through ice storms that could freeze a man’s lungs mid-breath and emerged without so much as a shiver.

But Eris Igniva... this woman, this impossible woman, had managed to undo me with nothing more than sharp words and sharper eyes.

Heat bloomed in my chest again, unfamiliar and insistent, spreading through my ribs like molten gold. It wasn’t uncomfortable, exactly. Just... new. Foreign. Like my body had decided to betray me in the most inconvenient way possible.

Was this an effect of her?

It had to be. Nothing else made sense.

I’d been fine before Solmire. Controlled. Composed. The Ice Emperor, cold and untouchable, just as my reputation demanded.

But now...

Now I was sitting in her garden, grinning like a fool, my chest doing strange things every time I so much as thought about her.

I was getting addicted.

Too fast. Too recklessly.

To a woman I was supposed to keep at arm’s length. To a woman who was married to my closest friend. To a woman the entire world called a monster.

And yet.

I couldn’t help it.

Eris made me wild in ways I couldn’t begin to understand. She pulled at something deep inside me, something I hadn’t even known existed until she’d turned those burning eyes on me and set it alight.

It was only a matter of time, I realized, before I became a complete slave to the heat of her.

The thought should have terrified me.

Instead, it made me smile wider.

I stood slowly, brushing imaginary dust from my clothes, and cast one last look at the gardenat the bench where she’d sat, at the scorched remains of the flower she’d burned without even meaning to.

Then I turned and walked back toward the palace, her perfume still clinging to my skin, her voice still echoing in my head.

And for the first time in my life, I cursed myself for not finding it sooner.