Soft morning light filtered through the sheer curtains, casting golden streaks across the tangled sheets. The scent of warmth, skin, and shared desire still lingered in the air.
Lysandra slowly stirred, blinking away sleep as she felt the soft rise and fall of Caveen's chest beside her. His arm was draped around her waist, his bare skin pressed against hers in a way that made her cheeks heat up.
Careful not to wake him, she slipped from beneath his arm and sat quietly on the edge of the bed. Her nightgown lay discarded on the floor. She leaned forward to reach for it, her movements quiet, graceful.
But before her fingers could grasp the fabric, a hand gently seized her wrist.
Lysandra gasped, her heart skipping.
"Where do you think you're going?" came a voice—husky, still coated in sleep but laced with something darker… hungrier.
She turned her head slightly and met Caveen's half-lidded gaze. His hair was tousled, lips slightly parted, his face framed by soft morning shadows that made him impossibly breathtaking.
He pulled her back onto the bed effortlessly.
Lysandra let out a small squeal as she fell back onto the mattress, only for Caveen to shift on top of her, caging her in with his strong arms.
His voice was low, teasing, dangerously addictive.
"Can we have one more... before we wake up?"
Her face turned scarlet.
"Are you not… tired yet?" she whispered, breath hitching as he lowered his head, his lips grazing the shell of her ear.
Caveen smirked, his voice a heated promise.
"No. I want you more."
Before she could reply, his lips captured hers in a kiss that was deep and consuming, full of emotion and desire that no words could express.
Her body reacted instinctively, responding to his every touch as her arms wrapped around his neck. She kissed him back, losing herself in the heat between them.
As their bodies came together once again, everything else faded—titles, fears, expectations, the looming threat of the Council.
There was only them now.
Two souls that had burned through betrayal and secrets.
Two hearts that finally beat in sync.
Their movements were slower this time—more intimate. Caveen's gaze never left hers as he worshipped every part of her like he was trying to memorize her all over again.
Lysandra held him close, her whispers soft and sacred between their kisses.
"Don't let this be a dream."
He silenced her with another kiss and murmured against her lips,
"It's not. You're mine now, Lysandra."
They moved together, over and over, until morning blurred into afternoon and all that remained was the echo of their love painted across the room.
The aroma of tea and freshly baked bread filled the air, blending with the sweet scent of roses drifting in from the garden.
Lysandra sat across the table, wrapped in a soft robe, her silver-blonde hair glowing like moonlight. Caveen watched her from over his cup of tea, his expression softer than it had ever been—unguarded, almost tender.
She looked up, caught his gaze, and smiled shyly. "You're staring."
"I am," he admitted, voice low and sincere. "And I don't plan to stop."
Her cheeks turned a lovely shade of pink, and she lowered her gaze to her plate. "Flatterer."
Caveen chuckled, a rare, boyish sound that echoed through the quiet breakfast room. "Only when the truth sounds like one."
They ate in companionable silence, their feet occasionally brushing under the table. Every touch was deliberate. Every smile held a weight of unspoken feelings. It was a morning untouched by politics, titles, or bloodlines—just two people pretending the world could wait a little longer.
After breakfast, Lysandra laced her fingers through his and led him into the gardens.
The Moonwell estate was in full bloom, a canvas of lavender, white blossoms, and bluebells. Magic hummed in the air, soft and natural, like the heartbeat of the earth itself.
They walked the winding paths hand in hand, barefoot, letting the soft grass tickle their feet. Birds chirped in melodic harmony as they sat on the marble bench under the Moonstone Arch—an enchanted vine slowly curling its luminous leaves above them.
"I used to sit here when I felt alone," Lysandra whispered, resting her head against his shoulder. "Before you… before everything changed."
Caveen turned to her, brushing a loose strand from her face. "You'll never be alone again."
For a moment, it was enough. Enough to believe in forever, in stolen time and whispered promises.
But peace never lingers long for those tied to fate.
As the sun began to dip behind the western hills and the estate was painted in the deep hues of twilight, a servant approached with hesitation in his steps and a scroll in his trembling hands.
"Forgive the interruption… but this just arrived from the Landon Estate."
Caveen stood slowly, the serenity on his face hardening like a mask. He opened the letter, eyes scanning the parchment.
Lysandra stepped beside him, worry already in her chest.
His jaw clenched.
"I'm to return by tomorrow," he said flatly. "Before the Council notices my absence… or senses my presence here."
Lysandra's heart dropped. "They suspect?"
"Not yet. But if I linger…" He didn't finish.
She reached out and held his hand again, tighter this time, as if the simple gesture could stop the inevitable.
"I knew this day would come," she murmured, her voice laced with quiet sorrow. "I just didn't think it would hurt this much."
Caveen looked at her then, and in his eyes was the storm he kept buried. The war between duty and desire. Between what he was meant to do… and what he wanted.
"I'll return," he said, his thumb brushing her knuckles. "No matter what happens. I'll find my way back to you."
Lysandra nodded, even as her eyes shimmered with unshed tears.
That night, they didn't speak of goodbyes. Instead, they simply held each other beneath the stars, breathing in each moment like it was the last.
Because they knew…
The world was coming for them.
And the morning would tear them apart.