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aila had been left in charge of the victory feast. She had spent days prepping the seven course meal, picking out the finest porcelain and gilt cutlery along with the procession of music and merriment to cultivate the triumphant spirit she wanted for her attendants to feel.

There was little that offered her salvation quite like the planning of a party, for she could convert any form of unwanted emotional weight into a fuel to generate merriment for the masses. Whenever she found herself plagued with bouts of heaviness, she could always count on a party to make it perishable.

On the night itself, Aurora presented her with a blue velvet ball gown reminiscent of the night sky; studded with more diamonds than there were stars. Then Astrid braided her hair with even more diamond-encrusted stars to rival her celestial counterparts.

“What do you think, madame?” Astrid said, holding up a mirror to the back of her head. “Are you pleased with our work?”

“Hm.” Laila gave herself a critical glance in the mirror. “It’s astounding work as always, girls. It’s just—it feels like there might be something missing.”

“There is.”

Her pulse stuttered at the unexpected voice in the room and the glimpse she caught in the mirror of the one that owned it. She stood at once from her vanity and turned to face him. “Darius.”

Her knees gave out, just a little, when she saw him.

She kept thinking she should’ve had time to brace for it by now, the chemical way her body responded to his presence. How he made the ivory tower of her spine soften with carnal longing.

She knew that she should want to reach for more than him, better; higher rungs of virtue and self-improvement. There would be no light nor truth in the place that he led. He would only ever be the unknowable void over the balcony ledge, two centuries worth of murder and mystery and mayhem. A dangerous amount of height for a respectable lady like her to jump off without looking.

And yet she’d jump, every time.

“Hello, princess.” He stepped towards her with a fiendish smile on his lips and that was when she noticed that he had a box in hand. “I was hoping you might wear this.” He lifted the lid of the box to reveal a large black diamond pendant.

Laila’s lips parted with a gasp. “Where did you get this?”

“I might have swiped it from the castle on my way back.”

Laila bit her lip as she slid her fingers over the large stone and its diamond setting. “You pilfered your own castle?”

“Well, I was thinking since we no longer have a regina to make use of it…”

“Darius.” Laila sounded appalled. “How could you be so morbid?”

“I’m being pragmatic,” Darius protested, “but if you’d rather not wear it—”

“That isn’t what I said.”

His smile returned and it radiated such self-satisfaction that she couldn’t help but share it. “Allow me.”

She turned to face the vanity as he put the box down on the pale marble counter and fastened the necklace around her throat. The diamond wore heavily against her chest; it was blacker than coal with the lustre of ink.

“Perfect.” He rested his hands on her shoulders before looking towards Aurora and Astrid. “What do you think, ladies?”

“Oh, it’s wonderful.”

“It’s just what she needed.”

“Dominus would’ve wanted for you to have it,” Darius explained, “he wanted me to tell you that he was sorry for not being the person that you needed him to be. That he couldn’t have been better for you. And he hopes that you’ll forgive him.”

Laila clutched onto the diamond that much more tightly before turning to face him. “I do.” Then she took him into her arms. “I’m so sorry about him, Darius.”

“I am, too.” Darius rested his chin on the crown of her head and, for the brief moment he was trapped in the safety of her arms with the scent of her hair on his nose, he allowed his legs to falter. He soon pulled back to hold out his arm for her. “Shall we?”

She locked her elbow with his and nuzzled into his shoulder. “I’ll see you downstairs, ladies.”

They made their descent into the waiting arms of the festivities.

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The Grand Ballroom was the pride of the palace—etchings of a marble frieze expanded over every wall depicting the solarites’ fall to earth and subsequent rise to regal prominence.

Dinner passed by in a blur of rosé nectar wine and rose-dipped swan, both Laila’s favourites. The soups were just the right amount of creamy, the desserts smeared in gold leaf and the salads were all garnished with fragrant blossoms.

Laila felt her smiles come easier and her tongue grow looser the more she ate and drank. The chatter soon quieted as Amira rose to make a toast in honour of Lanius’ capture.

“I would like to raise a glass to congratulate all you brave sprites and solarites for the diligent work you’ve done to rid our world of a murderous tyrant. But of course, none of it would be possible without the combined efforts of Lyra de Lis, our esteemed family Lightshield and Darius Calantis, the as yet unseated Rex of Mortos. If you would please stand, Darius Rex.”

Darius stood up from his seat, more resigned than triumphant.

“Long live the king,” Amira proclaimed and thus tossed the keys to his kingdom like toys to an unruly child. Yet it was she who seemed to be fixing to slot the ice blue diamond of Mortos into her imperial sceptre. Another jewel for her fine collection.

“Long live the king!” chorused the room.

After the toasts were made and the glasses were clinked, the tables soon cleared to make room for a dancefloor. Laila saw a revolving door of partners throughout the night before Léandre approached to take her hand.

“I never received a chance to congratulate you on what a truly wondrous event you’ve put together,” he said, once they had drawn close, bodies moving in liquid rhythm.

Laila rested her head on his shoulder. “Thank you, Léandre.”

“I mean it,” Léandre continued on, “I don’t say it enough but I am proud of you, Laila. Of what I have seen you achieve, of the maiden you are becoming. I believe you will make a fine impératrice one day. And I, for one, can’t wait to see it happen.”

Her throat squeezed moisture into her eyes before she blinked them back, putting on a smile that she hoped shimmered brighter than her tears. She had to wonder if he would be so magnanimous with his praise if he was aware that she shared a bed with a monster and wore his very jewels at her throat. If he would still smile upon her with such paternal pride.

“I’m so glad to have you home.”

Léandre reached out to smudge the tear that stealthily escaped down her cheek. “Me too.”

They took a moment to bask in the warmth of each other’s smiles before a darker shadow intruded.

“Might I steal your princess for a dance?” Darius inquired, hand outstretched in expectancy.

“Is that alright with you, Laila?” Léandre asked, though his body had tensed with unspoken disapproval.

“You may.” Laila took his hand and allowed herself to be shackled into his embrace. She propped her chin on his shoulder, inhaling the intoxicating musk of his cologne.

“I’ve been looking for an excuse to get near you all night,” Darius murmured Mortesian low in her ear, “you are very high in demand.”

“I know,” Laila said. “I’ve been wanting to ask how it is that you were doing?”

“I’m as well as can be expected,” he replied, “though I feel immensely better now that I’m holding you.”

She felt his hand gliding leisurely down the small of her back, re-awakening the longing she’d tried hard to keep at bay. Her hips ghosted his in a sensual tempo to the music.

“I want to see you. Tonight. If you can manage to get away.”

Laila glanced over his shoulder at Léandre, now in the midst of dancing with his niece. “Yes, of course,” she said, for she needed it as much as he did. Perhaps even more. “But you don’t have to put on a brave face for me, Darius. You can tell me how you really feel.”

“Not here, not now,” he said, “we can talk about it later. Just say you’ll come, please?”

She drew back from his shoulder to nod at him. “I’ll be there.”

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She slipped away to the Moon Tower once she’d had a moment to herself, content she could break free without too much questioning.

When she arrived Darius was leaning against the fireplace, glass of whiskey in hand and cravat loosened, watching the continuous leap of the flames. He made no move to acknowledge her entrance. He just kept watching the flames as they danced, the light fluctuating against his dusky skin.

He seemed so solemn in a way Laila had not seen in him before and she couldn’t keep herself from reaching for him, sliding her arms around his shoulders to press a kiss to one of them.

She didn’t understand how her body could still be so hungry for him even after the amount of times they’d touched each other. Perhaps that was why she let herself keep coming back, hoping that this would finally be the time she felt sated.

Her touch awakened him as he put the glass down and took her face in his hands, leaning in for a kiss. She could taste the whiskey on him as their lips met, smoky and smooth and strangely enticing.

He released a moan into her mouth, a vulnerable sound that travelled right between her legs. “Laila—” he began to say, and how was it that he was able to infuse so much into two syllables?

She shushed him, not wanting to confront more than the shallow surface lust that currently took possession of her. “Just kiss me.”

He did as she asked, hands moving deftly to unlace her bodice. He pulled back to tug her dress away and let it puddle to the floor.

She rejoined their lips as she slid off his tailcoat and unbuttoned his shirt and waistcoat, her hands sliding down his sleek abdomen to undo his breeches next. Wood crackled in the fireplace, casting their bodies in radiant heat as they stripped each other bare.

“I’m so glad you’re alive,” Laila murmured as she kissed the sharp protrusion of his collarbone, sliding her lips down the plump bulge of his pectoral muscle.

Darius slipped his hand into her hair, tugging her so she would face him. “Then show me how much.”

He brought his mouth down to hers into a kiss that left them breathless. Then he lifted her up into his arms to carry her over to the chaise lounge.

Laila sighed softly into Darius’ mouth as their kiss deepened, finding it too easy to lose herself in this. The heat of his bare skin on hers, the thrum of his pulse assuring her he was here.

He pressed her back against the cushions, her thighs resting upon his as she braced her hands upon his chest. He let his hands roam down the notches of her spine to her thighs, pulling her closer into his lap until the tip of his arousal was pressed against her. He was warm and sticky from his anticipatory spend and there was a throb of anticipation for how he might feel against her if she rubbed herself on him.

Laila found she couldn’t resist the urge, and moved his tip against her clit. With each motion there was a slight drag that went through her like static. She wrapped her hand around the base to hold him near, grinding against him as they kissed. She released a whimper from the delectable warmth of him pressed against her as his tip stroked her clit. Her hand tightened around him as she moved faster, coaxing a groan from him as she rocked her way to climax.

Once her shuddering subsided she circled his tip around her entrance, teasing him inside her, feeling herself edging towards release again from the movement alone.

He was remarkably placid during this, her exploration, engrossed just by watching her. There was something rather intoxicating about having this powerful creature literally in the palm of her hand, entirely obedient to her will.

“Are you going to tease me all evening?” Darius exhaled in an amused and slightly exasperated fashion.

Laila dipped a hand between her legs to coat his shaft with slick, pressing them tip to clit again. Her touches became bolder as his moans grew more laboured in intensity, her grip getting rougher as he demanded.

Darius didn’t flinch against the pain, liked it even, his hips moving to match the pace of her hand. He wanted, needed, to be inside her; to bask in the feel of her.

Laila tensed when she felt him ease his way in, unable to keep herself from wincing in remembrance of the last time this happened.

He went still instantly, studying her expression. “Relax,” he said, taking her cheek in hand. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

She met his gaze and nodded in reassurance.

“Would you like me to withdraw?”

She closed her eyes for a brief pause, trying to keep her body from seizing.

Darius tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, tilting her chin up to face him. “Laila?”

“You can continue.”

He entered her slowly, taking it inch by inch, allowing her to grow accustomed to him. He suppressed a noise at the snug fit between them and drew out his leisurely thrust even further.

“How does that feel?” he asked on the edge of a moan. Hearing how much he was enjoying it only aroused her even more.

“It feels nice,” she admitted, unable to discover a more fitting term for something so unexpectedly pleasant. Having him inside her was like the dulling of an ache she’d not been aware of. “Does it feel nice to you?”

“God, yes.” His voice was hoarse; strangled. “You feel so good to me, Laila.”

She smiled as she leaned in to brush his forehead with hers. She wanted to feel good for him, to bring him comfort and solace during this time.

“Good.” She kissed him again, winding her arms around his neck.

That was all the enticement he needed as he slung his hand over the top of the chaise lounge for purchase. He rolled his hips into hers at a languid pace, one hand gripping her waist to keep her still.

Laila surprised herself by how loudly she moaned into his mouth during this, her toes curling in response. It was no wonder, when it had been nothing like this with Dominus. He didn’t approach her like a fort to be stormed by a battering ram, rather one whose doors should become open to him on their own.

She wrapped her legs around him to hold him near, her confidence increasing in increments. “Stay still.”

She nipped his bottom lip before gripping his shoulders. Then she circled her hips into him, moving one of his hands to cup her breast while guiding the other towards her clit to touch her the way that she wanted.

“That’s it,” he encouraged, his voice low in her ear as she writhed in his lap. His thumb traced lightly around her clit. “There’s a good girl.” The sound of him made the growing coil in her stomach tighten until she was pushed over the brink.

Laila cried out as she found release, her teeth bitten into his shoulder to muffle herself. There was something softer about it than the others she’d received; muted. Yet the aftermath left her tingly all over.

Darius shuddered from the crackles of electricity shooting through his groin. Feeling Laila climax around him was a profound experience; a sensation so euphoric it almost provoked his own release. He denied himself the gratification, wanting to preserve the heady rush that came from working his way up to the brink.

“Do you want to finish?” she asked.

Darius hummed in refusal as he withdrew from her. “Just wanted to feel you.”

They remained clasped around each other as she grew soft and malleable in his arms, their breaths hot and heavy, damp foreheads resting together in repose. He slid his hands through her hair, kissing her lightly on the nose, and she thought perhaps I don’t have to feel ashamed of wanting this, because right now he was not two centuries worth of murderous monster against her. He was just a lover who held her tenderly in his hands.

“Come to Mortos with me.”

She gazed up at him, her face quizzical. “What?”

“When all of this is over and I return to claim my throne, I want you by my side.”

“Darius.” She sighed softly as she traced the sharp contour of his cheek; she could pierce herself on the edges of him. “I can’t.”

“Why not?” he asked, releasing his grip in her hair to take her cheek in hand, ghosting his next words over her lips. “Come away with me.”

“I have a country,” she reminded him, “and I have a crown.”

“I could give you all that and more,” he told her, and there was nothing sweeter than the infinite potential of more. “I could take you to all the secret corners of the world that have been lost through time. The ancient cities, the sunken ships, the cursed vaults full of treasure that are spoken of only in myth.” He pressed a soft kiss to her lips. “We’d visit tombs of all the great artists where I’d raise their spirits to paint portraits in your likeness, then we’d go to the oldest library in existence and I’d read you poetry in extinct languages that only those with connections to the dead can master. We’d explore, you and I.” He slipped a gold curl behind her ear. “You don’t have any idea just how much I have to show you.”

More, he promised to the one who has always had all she could want and yet how she longed for these morbid offerings still.

“If you want me to beg you Laila, I will,” he vowed, “and I’ve never begged anyone before.”

“It’s not that I don’t want this—” she sighed, weary in her rejection. For no matter how much he may try to lure her to his underworld with the promise of forgotten culture and lost riches, she knew she must remain here. “I do want this, more than anything. But I can’t just run away with you, Darius. And I’m not sure if this is truly what you want or if this is just you clinging to me in your fear of being left alone.”

“It’s not.”

“How do I trust that?”

“Before I met you I had fully resigned from life. There was so little joy to be found in it. Not much colour or hope. Every day was monotonous and I felt… frozen. Then you came along and shattered your way through all of it. You set me free, Laila. Because of you I have a reason to hope again. And I can’t stand the thought of losing that.” He stroked her face with his thumb so carefully, as if she had become something precious to him. “I can see that I’ve overwhelmed you. And you don’t have to decide now. But at least promise me you’ll consider it. Please?”

She closed her eyes before nodding. “Alright.”

He leaned in to kiss her once more.