Page 76 of Shackled By Shadows

It feels as though there is always something else on his mind, something more important demanding his attention.

Once again, I’m left to navigate the hours alone. He is always up before the sun, his presence an afterthought in the early morning hours as I lie there, half awake, wishing for just a moment of peace, just a moment where we can breathe together. But those moments feel too fleeting.

Even in the chaos of it all, he returns to me. Every night, without fail, his presence will reappear, always the same.

I feel the bed dip as he slips in, his warmth surrounding me as his strong arms wrap tightly around me, nuzzling my neck, his breath warm against my skin, the familiar scent of cedarwood and fresh rain fills the air like a balm for my soul, grounding me in a way nothing else can.

It is in these small, quiet moments that I find peace. When it is just the two of us, with no plans, no pressures, no looming threats, the world outside may be full of tension and uncertainty, but in those moments, in his arms, I feel safe. I can breathe. The weight of the rebellion, the endless responsibilities, the shadow of the King’s knowledge, it all seems so far away.

In those stolen moments, I can pretend that nothing else matters but us. That’s enough, even if only for a little while.

I fall asleep in his embrace, wishing for more of those simple moments.

Things start to settle after a few days.

The negotiations with the Southern Territories are over. Oberon and Zander have devised a new plan of action, one I do not like at all: They will return to the King, trying to feel out what he knows, assess his stance, and hopefully glean any new information that can aid our efforts.

Meanwhile, Ash and I will stay behind at Wraithmoor.

I know Oberon has to go. I know it is vital for the rebellion, but that doesn’t stop the selfish part of me from wishing he would stay.

Every moment with him feels precious, more so now that we are teetering on the edge of something so dangerous. The night before, we lingered in each other’s arms, taking our time.

It was a slow, unhurried embrace, knowing that we might not see each other for some time. Words were unnecessary in that moment. The silence spoke louder than anything else could, filled with an aching longing that neither of us wanted to admit.

The next morning, as we make our way through the towering halls of Wraithmoor, Oberon’s hand is firm in mine, making our relationship visible to the world. We haven’t told anyone about what is happening between us, but I know they all have their suspicions. Maybe it is the scent of us clinging to one another, or the way we move together. Oberon doesn’t seem to care, nor do I, really.

He laces our arms together, and I can’t help but notice the shift in the air.

No one dares to speak up as we pass through the hallways, but eyes follow us. They don’t say anything, but the looks are sharp and scrutinizing. When we step out into the open training fields, Ash is the first to speak up. “About damn time,” he says, grinning, slapping Oberon on the shoulder as if to congratulate him.

I shoot Ash a glare, but Oberon remains unreadable, his eyes locked onto mine. Zander, ever the quiet one, just gives us a quick once-over, a half-smile curling at the corner of his lips. He doesn’t say anything, his silence louder than words.

We linger there for a moment, neither of us quite ready to say goodbye.

The weight of it hangs between us like a heavy cloak. Finally, Oberon pulls me in, his lips capturing mine in a kiss that’s full of meaning.

His mouth is demanding, even with the underlying tenderness.

When he pulls away, his breath warm against my ear, he whispers, “Mine.”

The word echoes in my chest, a thrill of heat spiraling through me. It isn’t a question or an offer. It is a claim, solid and certain, I melt into it, only able to nod in response, pulling him back into another kiss, needing him again, just for a moment longer.

I want to say something. I want to tell him how much he means to me, how terrified I am of what he is walking into.

But I don’t have the words.

Goodbyes have never been something I do well, too much emotion, too much weight in it. Instead, I let the silence speak, letting the kiss do the talking for me.

Oberon, ever the perceptive one, reading my face like an open book, breaks the silence. “Try not to have too much fun without me,” Oberon purrs, his voice smooth and dangerous, the words wrap in a teasing menace. The kind of humor that makes my skin crawl and my heart race. The edge of his grin isn’t just playful, it's a warning.

I force a smile, trying to ignore the way my pulse quickens, still unsure of whether I am terrified or thrilled.

With a wicked gleam in his eye, he leans in closer, his breath warm against my ear as he speaks again, the dark undertone unmistakable. “And Lyra, dear,” he drawls, his grin turning sharper, eyes dark with something illegible, “don’t exhaust yourself before I get back. You’ll need all your energy for what I have planned. Trust me, I’m worth the wait." His words send a shiver down my spine, both with the promise of something thrilling and the weight of something far more dangerous.

The way he says it isn’t just an offer. It is a command wrapped in playful cruelty. There is an art to his teasing, and I am both the victim and the willing accomplice.

In that moment, it feels as if the rest of the world has faded, just Oberon, his presence overwhelming, and me.