Chapter 28:
Lucina
I walk alongside Valendor as he works his magic—quite literally—on the surrounding gardens of my palace.
The sun beats down relentlessly, but my large hat provides some respite from its harsh rays. Valendor, with a mere wave of his hand, causes flowers to bloom and weeds to wither and die.
In my floor-length floral dress, I observe Valendor's skilled movements with admiration.
The designer of this dress will certainly receive a generous check from me. It blends perfectly with the aesthetic of this world while allowing me the freedom of movement I desire.
As we stroll through the gardens, Valendor reaches into a small pouch and pulls out a batch of seeds. With practiced precision, he scatters them across the flower beds. Each seed finds its place in the rich soil.
Three hours later, Valendor steps back to admire his handiwork.
I join him.
The gardens now hold a vibrant array of colors and scents, teeming with life in a way they hadn't before. My palace has a new sense of vitality and beauty.
A surge of happiness rises in my chest at the sight.
After admiring Valendor's handiwork, I make my way back inside the palace.
I climb the stairs to the drawing room, seeking a clearer view of the lush greenery outside. The room provides a perfect vantage point—large windows frame the blooming flowers and swaying trees.
I stand there, lost in the beauty of the scene.
Stacy enters with a tray of pastries. The sweet aroma of freshly baked treats fills the room. I smile at the sight.
I decide to indulge myself a bit.
I settle into a plush chair in the room. I reach for one of the pastries, savoring its delicate flavors as I lounge comfortably. The soft cushions envelop me. I close my eyes briefly, enjoying the moment of tranquility.
It isn't long before Valendor joins me.
His presence fills the room. Long, flowing blonde hair. Casual attire. He exudes a relaxed yet elegant air. A crisp white shirt, a few buttons left open at the collar, paired with simple brown slacks.
I notice the slight change in his usual attire. I can't resist teasing him.
"Valendor, what's with the open shirt? Has Kai been giving you fashion advice?"
A playful smile tugs at my lips.
Valendor chuckles—a warm sound that fills the room. "I suppose I've been influenced by his sense of style." His eyes twinkle with amusement.
"But I assure you, it's purely for comfort."
I nod, taking another bite of pastry.
"Well, you certainly look comfortable." I gesture to his attire. "And it suits you, I must say."
I lounge comfortably in the chair.
Valendor joins me, propping my feet on his lap. He brings out the tray of pastries he prepared the day before, offering them to me with a warm smile.
"I hope you love these."
He feeds me another pastry. One after another,it seems he's determined to fatten me up. But I don't mind. The pastries are delicious. His attentiveness is endearing.
"Why aren't you eating your creations?" I ask between bites, gesturing to the untouched pastries on the tray.
"I find more joy in seeing you enjoy them."
Amusement and affection fill his eyes.
"Well, suit yourself then."
I lean back into the chair and let him feed me.
As I savor the pastries, Valendor's presence beside me feels comforting and familiar.
We fall into a comfortable rhythm. Him feeding me. Us exchanging light conversation.
But an underlying tension hangs in the air. A palpable energy that thickens with each passing moment.
I catch him staring.
Not at my eyes. At my lips.
His gaze lingers there, dark and heavy, like he's memorizing every curve, every soft line. My breath hitches. The pastry suddenly feels forgotten in my hand.
"Valendor?"
My voice comes out smaller than I intended.
He doesn't answer. Instead, he leans in. Slowly. Deliberately. Like he's giving me every chance to pull away.
I don't.
His long blonde hair cascades around us like a curtain, shutting out the rest of the world. The afternoon light filters through the strands, turning everything golden and hazy. We're in our own universe now—just him, just me, just this.
"You have a little something here."
His thumb brushes against the corner of my lips.
A featherlight touch.
My skin burns beneath it.
"I—" I start, but the words dissolve in my throat.
Because he's still looking at me.Seeing the way my chest rises and falls too quickly.
Seeing the way my fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt without my permission. Seeing the way I want this. Want him.
"Valendor," I whisper again.
But this time, his name is not a question.
He answers.
He closes the distance between us.
His lips meet mine.
Soft at first. Tentative. A question asked in the language of touch—is this okay? My answer comes not in words but in the way I tilt my head, part my lips, press closer.
He tastes like the pastries we've been sharing. Sweet. Warm. Familiar.
But underneath that, something else. Something distinctly him. Like earth after rain. Like the first bloom of spring.
The kiss deepens.
His hand slides from my jaw to the back of my neck, fingers threading through my curls. A gentle tug sends shivers cascading down my spine. I gasp against his lips, and he swallows the sound like it's something precious.
Time stops.
The world outside the window—the gardens, the palace, the empire—all of it fades into nothing. There is only this. Only him. Only the press of his lips and the heat of his breath and the way his heart pounds against my palm where my hand rests on his chest.
Or maybe that's my own heart.
Maybe they've become the same.
When we finally break apart, we don't go far.
Our foreheads rest against each other. Our breaths mingle in the small space between us. His eyes are half-lidded, dark with something that makes my stomach flip.
"That was..." I trail off, unable to find the word.
Because there isn't one. Not in any language I know.
"Long overdue," Valendor finishes for me.
A laugh bubbles up from my chest—breathless, giddy, ridiculous.
"Overdue?"
He nods, his thumb still tracing slow circles on the back of my neck. "I've wanted to do that since the day you bought me."
My heart stumbles. "That was two years ago."
"I know."
His lips curve into a small smile. Vulnerable. Hopeful. Nothing like the cold, unapproachable elf the world sees.
"I've been patient," he says softly. "I didn't want to be just another person who took from you without asking."
Something warm blooms in my chest. Something that feels dangerously close to falling.
Feeling bolder now,drunk on the taste of him, on the weight of his confession I wrap my arms around his neck and pull him back in.
This time, there's no hesitation.
This time, Valendor meets me with fervor.
His arms lock around my waist, lifting me from the chair, pulling me against him like he's afraid I'll disappear.
His lips move against mine with desperate intensity—like he's trying to devour me whole, like he's trying to memorize the shape of my mouth for all eternity.
I cling to him, fingers tangling in his golden hair, tugging just to hear the low sound that rumbles from his chest.
The pastries scatter forgotten to the floor.
The chair creaks beneath us.
None of it matters.