Hated by her lineage, Iliya Dalaminai dwells in self isolation, awaiting the day her cousin marries so she might escape the Throne.
Feared by the Gods, Sorein Chakrine's crown is mainly a relic put on display at royal ceremonies to ward off evil.
Wh...
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The world around her warped into the shadows, twisting through dark and light before spitting her out against the farthest wall.
She had no idea what was happening as another weight flattened her into the dirt.
Iliya's breathing came out in ragged, dry rasps as her panting subsided. Darkness had enveloped their surroundings as her mana gave out. Her vision was heavily obscured by shaggy waves of black hair brushing against her cheeks; she couldn't see more than a puddle of black ink where the monster had once been behind them.
Sorein was frozen above her, arms steeled around her small frame as he shielded her with his body.
The boulders crumpled to the floor just beyond them.
Safe.
They were safe.
She blinked and tipped her head back to find their bodies mere centimeters apart, feeling the weight of his thighs lightly pressing against her hips.
Still so much taller, towering above even as he ducked his head.
Thoughts began swarming her mind, rattling around. How they should get up, move, and investigate.
But Iliya merely found herself watching Sorein, still statuesque. His own breaths were shallow, but controlled. The caves were dark, swallowing the light with them as her vision strained to see more than those silver-gray eyes now peeking down at her.
Move.
She should move.
But her body lay beneath him, unmoving.
He inhaled, the tense sigh escaping him caressed her cheeks.
Iliya's lips parted to speak, the horrors of the mutilated demon blood behind them spreading over the ground. This man, her friend, had saved her. Again.
They were soaked in the grime and sludge, sulfur clogging the air with its foul odor.
Slowly, ever so slowly, Sorein lifted one of his hands from beside her head and gripped her chin between his thumb and forefinger. Examining her eyes, her face.
Inspecting for damage, she thought.
Clinical, purely clinical.
She'd never seen him so concentrated, analyzing her as best he could in the darkness.
"You're so impulsive," he whispered into the space between them.
Sorein's eyes traced down to her lips long enough for her to wonder if she had a cut or the stain of blood covered her face too.
The weight of his hips pressed against her for only another moment before he righted himself, pulling away.
She couldn't understand what was happening, her scattered thoughts did very little as she struggled for words. Iliya was certain she should say something. Do something.
