Page 139 of Haunted Crowns
Chapter 28
The world was soft and warm. The delicate scent of roses clung to the air, weaving through silken sheets that cocooned her. The fabric brushed her skin like a whisper of comfort. A cruel illusion. Her breath came steady. Too steady. Sleep clung to her mind like mist.
And then it returned: the flames, the screams, the severed heads.
The eyes, vacant and staring through smoke.
Eris’ lungs seized. A sharp, broken gasp tore through her throat, shattering the illusion of peace. It was not a nightmare. It was reality.
She bolted upright.
A gentle hand pressed to her shoulder, grounding her. “Shh…” The voice was low, scraped raw by exhaustion, and unmistakably familiar.
Stephan. Her vision swam, then settled on him.
He leaned close, fingers threading through her hair, sweeping damp curls from her brow. His palms cupped her face, thumbs stroking her cheekbones like he needed proof she was still breathing, still here.
Their foreheads met, and a breath shuddered from his chest. “I’m here,” he whispered. His voice sounded as though it had bled to reach her. “We’re safe.”
Safe.
The word rang hollow. A sob cracked through her.
“Stephan—” she flung herself into him, arms wrapped tight around his frame, clinging like the world might split in half if she let go.
His body jolted, drawing a strangled inhale, as tension flashed.
She stilled. Her gaze dropped to his chest.
His uniform hung open at the collar, half-peeled from his shoulders. Beneath it were white bandages, darkened at the center.
Her fingers trembled as her stomach twisted. “You’re hurt.”
He exhaled slowly, fingers threading through her hair to tuck loose strands behind her ear. “It’s nothing—”
But she wasn’t listening. Her hands hovered, frantic, desperate to help, afraid to hurt. Panic tightened its grip until he caught her wrists, grounding her in sudden stillness. Their eyes met.
His lips curved, tired but soft. “It’s nothing,” he said again—quieter this time, not quite a lie, but close.
Her breath hitched. “Nothing?”
The word scraped. He tightened his grip, then leaned in until their brows met. Silence bloomed, heavy with all that remained unspoken. Stephan closed his eyes and drew her in, pressing her to the ache in his chest, as if she could quiet it.
“I should have listened to you,” he whispered. “I should have stayed. If I had…” His voice broke. “Maybe they would still be alive.”
The weight of it sank into her, crushing. She felt the gift stir beneath her ribs—a hum in her blood, a thread pulled taut between them. She reached for it, for the pain unraveling insidehim, and took it. She drew it into herself, reshaped it, and made it bearable.
Her fingers traced his jaw, tilting his face toward hers until their noses brushed. “No,” she whispered. The word lingered, sinking into the fragile hush between heartbeats. “No, Stephan. You couldn’t have stopped this. None of us could.”
Her breath grazed his lips, carrying a balm and a truth she needed him to feel. His eyes opened. The storm still raged, but its sharpest edges were gone.
He exhaled, stepping back toward the window. His shadow stretched long across the marble as his fists clenched.
“Avaristo.” His voice hardened as rage surged through him. He gripped the sill, firelight painting vengeance across his reflection. “I swear on my blood,” he said, eyes distant, “I will raze his empire to dust.”
Eris stepped between him and the fury. Her arms wrapped around him like an anchor in a rising tide. They had survived. He was hers, and she was his. Her voice was steady. “Together. Always.”
Stephan met her gaze, emerald and unflinching, bright with promise. His jaw tightened before he exhaled and drew her closer. His lips brushed her hair, breath trembling. “Together,” he murmured. “No matter what comes.”
