CHAPTER 51: CHAPTER 51: RUMOURS

"Look... who’s back home." A voice said, startling Zaeryn. His heart hammered against his ribs.

But then he realized who that rich, teasing voice with that hint of playfulness that never failed to make his pulse quicken belonged to. It came from Aeris.

"Aeris. Stop playing. You nearly gave me a heart attack," he said, his voice coming out rougher than intended as he searched the dim room for where she was standing.

A soft laugh drifted from the corner, where she lounged like a cat in the plush velvet seat, one long leg draped elegantly over the armrest.

Even in the shadows, her silhouette was captivating, the gentle curve of her waist, the way her sweater had slipped slightly off one shoulder, revealing the graceful line of her collarbone.

"What a jumpy guy," she purred, tilting her head with that knowing smile that always made him feel like she could see straight through him. "You never change Zaeryn. Still so easily startled."

Zaeryn fumbled for the light switch, desperate to see her properly while trying to regain some composure. "I’m not—you just surprised me, that’s all."

The warm glow that flooded the room revealed her in all her glory. Aeris had always been beautiful, but tonight she seemed to glow with an ethereal radiance. Who was he kidding? She seemed to look even more beautiful day by day to him, not just tonight, and he loved looking at her.

Zaeryn didn’t have shame simping for someone’s looks, as long as that person was Aeris. Plus she didn’t mind.

She tilted her head, letting her hair tumble over her shoulder in that careless, yet perfectly deliberate way, drawing his eyes down. She wore a cream-colored sweater that hugged her curves just right, paired with form-fitting leggings that emphasized her long legs and hourglass figure.

She looked comfortable, casual, yet somehow devastatingly alluring.

Sometimes he felt like a lucky man.

"Mmm-hmm.. ." She stretched languidly, like a satisfied cat, and his mouth went dry. "You looked ready to run for the hills. What were you expecting—assassins?"

"Well, I certainly made two enemies today, so I wouldn’t be surprised by that," As he said that, he was thinking about Commander Thorne and Zia.

And the impression he got from Zia in that room? He felt like he met his greatest enemy, someone who hated him for real.

She was definitely the type to have him assassinated if she had the chance. So if he was afraid of assassins in his house, it was because of her.

Zaeryn didn’t allow himself to ruin the mood by thinking of that too much. Right now he wanted to focus on something else, Aeris. The way she was looking at him, with those warm, knowing eyes, made it hard to think straight.

"Lucky for you," she said, rising from her seat, "no one can touch you here. The security woven around this place would make even the Queens royal guards think twice before storming here." Her tone was assuring, like a protective sibling she always was.

She moved toward him. Though she wasn’t even trying, every step was hypnotic, drawing his gaze almost against his will.

"What were you doing sitting alone in the dark like some mysterious enchantress?" he asked, trying for levity but unable to hide the breathlessness in his voice.

Instead of answering immediately, she closed the distance between them, her hands coming up to rest on his chest. The simple touch sent electricity racing through his veins. She was so close he could smell her perfume—something floral and intoxicating that made his head spin.

"Waiting..." she whispered, her lips barely an inch from his ear. "For you. You took so long to come back from there, I was beginning to wonder if something went wrong. Oh... were you hurt during their tests or whatever they did to you?"

"No need to worry, I’m fine," he assured her.

"And I’m glad." She kissed him—right on the lips.

"Oh wow, you’re in a playful mood today," Zaeryn commented.

The playful glint in her eyes intensified, that mischievous sparkle that she rarely showe, but when she did, it always kept him on edge. Aeris had moods like a storm: one moment teasing, the next tender and caring, the kind of unpredictability that left him both desperate and confused.

"Am I? Well, I drank something earlier, so that could be the effects of it." She admitted.

"Oh."

"Yes. Can I tell you something?" She asked him, and then before he answered she continued, "There are times," she murmured, "when I think about keeping you all to myself. But..." Her fingers traced idle, teasing patterns along the line of his shirt, "I suppose I could share you with Sage... for now."

’She really is a little drunk. She would never admit something like that.’ Zaeryn thought.

Her arms wound around his neck, pulling him into an embrace that felt like coming home. She was warm and soft and perfect against him, and for a moment, the world outside ceased to exist. There was only Aeris, only this moment, only the way she fit so perfectly in his arms like she was made for him.

But then her eyes shifted, catching movement behind him, and she caught the shadow of Arya and Mireille retreating, their presence fading. Aeris’s eyes flicked toward them, a slight frown marring her otherwise perfect composure.

"Why are they still here? I thought your mom had the council back off?"

"She did," Zaeryn admitted.

But when he thought of it, he was still stunned by the revelation. Athea had actually helped him, he never thought she would help him. Maybe she still cared about him after all.

Aeris pushed back from him, arching a sculpted brow, her presence magnetic even as she gave him space. "Then why are they still following you?"

"’Athea wanted them to keep me safe,’ Lysara said. Not my words," he muttered, letting himself sink onto a plush seat.

Aeris followed, sitting close enough that her toned leg brushed his. She leaned her back on the headrest and then turned towards him. Her face was just inches from his face, and then she entwined her fingers with his. Slowly, deliberately, she lifted his hand and pressed a soft, sensual kiss to the back of it, biting his thumb lightly with playful malice.

"Who’s this Lysara?" There was something sharp in her voice, a hint of jealousy that he found both surprising and secretly thrilling. "Ysmeine mentioned her. Is she the one who wanted to keep you as a test subject?"

"The high commander at the Citadel," he explained. "And she is actually the reason I’m free."

"That’s good. I was afraid they might try to lock you up." She said sincerely. Then removing that worried expression, she exhaled, "Well, you don’t need to worry about being a potential test subject anymore." She squeezed his hand. "Ysmeine worked her magic. You’re officially off the Council’s hit list."

"I still can’t believe it honestly. Last I heard, Athea was giving Ysmeine the cold shoulder."

Aeris’s free hand came up to brush a strand of hair from his forehead, her fingers trailing along his temple in a caress that made him want to lean into her touch like a cat seeking affection.

"You’ll have to ask her yourself," she said her expression turning slightly serious. "Let’s just say she has her ways of being... persuasive."

"And you?" he asked, capturing her wandering hand and bringing it to his lips to return her earlier kiss. "What about your ways of being persuasive?"

"You haven’t seen anything yet. And I’m not drunk enough for it"

"Now I’m even more curious," he teased. "But first, I want to speak with Ysmeine." He stood, brushing past her slightly. "Where can I find her?"

"Check the kitchen—or her room," Aeris said, her hand grazing his arm as he passed—a subtle tether he couldn’t ignore.

Before Zaeryn could go far, Aeris called out to him, "And Zaeryn..."

"What?"

"Grandmother and the other are going to visit tomorrow." She announced.

Zaeryn’s eyes brightened at that. "Really?" He was happy.

Aeris nodded. "Yes, and do you know who else is coming? Kayla Noctis." She dropped the news as if it was something casual,"She heard about your situation, and decided to come back here."

"Uh, really?" Zaeryn muttered, displeasure flashing at the mention of Kayla. He’d never liked her—she’d spent his life pointing out every flaw. A visit from her wasn’t exactly something to look forward to.

He had been filled with joy at the thought of visitors, but the fact that Kayla—his aunt—was among them had soured his mood entirely. It wasn’t that he disliked her without reason. She had never liked him, not since he was a baby, and he had naturally learned to reciprocate.

Over the years, he’d come to find her insufferable. She found fault in everything about him, criticized his every move, and seemed to take pleasure in pointing out his shortcomings as a male.

He went to the kitchen in search of Ysmeine, but she wasn’t there. She must be in her room, he thought, but first decided to return to his own for a shower and change of clothes. He needed to wash away the tension of the day—and prepare himself for tomorrow’s unwelcome reunion.

---

Meanwhile...

Arya stood before the nearly barren closet, rifling through the handful of outfits with growing frustration. "How long are we supposed to keep this charade up?" she muttered, pushing aside a lone shirt.

From her perch on the bed, Mireille didn’t bother looking up from her device as she scrolled through the latest news feeds on this world’s social media. The soft glow illuminated her sharp features as she lazily stretched out like a predatory cat. "Your guess is as good as mine. What I don’t understand is why we’re stuck playing babysitter when he’s supposedly free from the Council’s leash."

"Exactly what I was thinking." Arya abandoned her search, turning to face her partner. "Something doesn’t add up. What’s your read on the situation?"

That got Mireille’s attention. She finally lifted her gaze from the screen, her icy blue eyes flashing with irritation. "All I know is this whole assignment is beneath me. Do they have any idea what they’re doing? I’m a certified Warlady—I should be deployed on active battlefields, not reduced to monitoring some bizarre little anomaly!"

The venom in her voice was so so different with her casual posture and personality that Arya couldn’t help but giggle. "Anomaly? That’s certainly one way to describe him. But do you really think he’s that strange?"

Arya’s fingers brushed the wall panel, and the soft hum of the noise-dampening field filled the room. The air instantly felt heavier, more private. Arya leaned closer, lowering her voice. "We don’t want to end up like Zaeryn when he was doing his girlfriend, right?" She flashed a mischievous grin.

"Strange doesn’t begin to cover it," Mireille said, sitting up with renewed interest in their conversation. "Think about it logically—what normal male survives the Fade intact? Most turn within seconds, and the rest within an hour or so. Yet here he is, days later, still functioning. There’s definitely something off about his biology."

"You make a convincing point." Arya settled onto the edge of the bed, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "I’ve been hearing some interesting rumors from the Citadel.

"Rumours? What sort of rumours?" Mirreile was curious.