Days had passed. Weeks, even, though time felt distorted under the weight of my own chaotic thoughts. The coup was complete. The kingdom was mine, loyalists rallied, trade routes reopened, and the city breathed a new sense of hope.
And yet…nothing mattered.
Because of him.
Sylthar.
Every strategy session, every meeting with advisors, every discussion with Mia—the thought of him haunted me. His calm confidence. His infuriating red eyes. His smirk, dark and teasing, as if he knew exactly the effect he had on me. And that damned confession…
I had planned to confess first, carefully, deliberately, with all the power of my intellect and wit. And then he had gone and ruined everything. The nerve. The audacity. The perfectly infuriating timing.
I slammed a document on my desk. "I can't…focus!" I shouted, startling the guards outside my chambers. Mia peeked in cautiously.
"You've…been yelling at reports again, Your Highness," she said softly.
"I don't care about the reports!" I snapped, pacing the room. "I care about him!"
Mia raised an eyebrow. "Him? Sylthar?"
"Yes! HIM!" I shouted, spinning on my heel. "He…he confessed, dammit! And he had the audacity to do it before I could!"
Mia hid a smile behind her hand. "Perhaps…you should just…see him?"
My eyes snapped to hers. "See him? Are you insane? I can't just waltz over and—he's Sylthar! I'd probably strangle him out of frustration and…other reasons!"
I sank into my chair, pulling at my hair. I was a queen who had faced tyrants, commanded armies, and orchestrated a coup. And yet…this man, who was supposed to be loyal, fearless, and infuriatingly cool, had turned me into a mess.
I growled softly. I needed to fix this. I needed to put him in his place.
And I had an idea.
It was the evening. The sun had dipped below the horizon, casting a pale orange glow over the palace courtyard. I had been summoned or so I thought for routine reports. Instead, I found him waiting by the fountain. Sylthar. Calm. Hands in pockets. That smirk still playing on his lips.
"Your Highness," he said smoothly, bowing lightly. "I see you've been…busy."
"I've been thinking," I snapped, walking toward him with deliberate purpose. "About you."
He raised an eyebrow. "About me?"
"Yes. About your insufferable timing, your smug expression, and your horrible habit of confessing before I could." My words dripped with irritation, yet my pulse betrayed me.
He chuckled softly. "Ah. That old problem again. I thought we settled that weeks ago."
I stopped just a step away from him, fists clenched. "Settle? Hardly. You've ruined everything. And I'm going to fix it."
Before he could react, I surged forward, gripping his collar, and pressed my lips to his. Quick. Sharp. Demanding.
The world seemed to freeze. Sylthar's eyes widened so fast it looked like the sun itself had exploded behind them. His smirk faltered. His hands went stiff at his sides.
"Wha—" he stammered, voice strangled and utterly unprepared.
I pulled back just slightly, letting my forehead rest against his. "Payback," I whispered, voice low and teasing. "For confessing first."
Sylthar's red eyes glimmered like fire. He opened his mouth…then closed it again, utterly flustered. He blinked. Stammered. Turned crimson under the soft moonlight.
"I—uh…you—" he muttered, completely at a loss.
"I think you like it," I said, smirk returning, though my chest still pounded. "You're blushing like a fool."
He ran a hand through his black hair, flustered beyond belief, yet unable to tear his eyes from mine. "I…am not blushing," he said, voice tight, but the tip of his ears betrayed him.
"Oh? Then explain that bright red flush," I teased, stepping even closer, until our noses almost touched. "Explain that racing heart, Sylthar. I dare you."
He opened his mouth again, then closed it, then opened it again. Words failed him completely. For once, the master of sarcasm, the joker, the darkly humorous terror of Nehara…was reduced to a blushing, stammering mess.
And I, the queen, finally felt a surge of victory.
"Good," I said, stepping back, smirk sharp and victorious. "Now you know how it feels to be preempted. How it feels to have someone steal your thunder."
Sylthar groaned softly, but that smirk half frustrated, half amused crept back onto his face. "Eirene," he muttered, "you are impossible."
"And yet," I whispered, voice softening just a fraction, "you still like me, don't you?"
He only blinked, red eyes softening for the first time since he arrived. No words. Just a quiet, flustered, undeniable agreement.
The queen had taken her revenge. And Sylthar…well, he was exactly the kind of mess I had always known he could be.
The courtyard was quiet now, the soft rustle of the evening breeze the only sound besides our own breaths. I leaned against the fountain, still smirking from my victory. Sylthar, the blushing disaster, sank onto the edge beside me, clearly struggling to regain his composure.
For once, there was no tension. No battle plans, no threats, no throne-room politics. Just…us.
I nudged him lightly with my shoulder. "You're hopeless when I catch you off guard, you know that?"
He groaned, burying his face in his hands. "I can't believe you did that. I…what even—"
I laughed softly, cutting him off. "Relax. I told you it was payback. You can stew about it all you want, but it won't change the fact that I won this round."
He peeked at me through his fingers, red eyes still glowing faintly under the moonlight. "Ugh…you're impossible," he muttered, but there was a softness there, a rare vulnerability I had never seen before.
I leaned my head back against the fountain, and after a moment's hesitation, he rested his head beside mine. Side by side, the weight of the day the coup, the kingdom, the chaos fell away for just a moment.
"You know," I said quietly, "I've been thinking…about all the nonsense that's happened these past weeks. And somehow…even after everything, you're still here. Still the same Sylthar."
He chuckled softly, voice low and amused. "You mean the chaotic, infuriating, terrifying, dark-humored me?"
"Exactly that one," I said, nudging him slightly. "I don't know how anyone survives with you around, honestly."
"I survive just fine," he replied, smirking despite the lingering blush. "But with you…everything's a little…messier. A little brighter."
I blinked, silent for a moment. "Brighter…huh?"
He shrugged, one hand brushing against mine, hesitant but deliberate. "Yeah. Don't think I don't notice it. You're…different, Eirene. Not just a queen, not just the woman who killed her father and orchestrated a coup. You're…you. And that makes everything else…less important."
I let out a soft laugh, leaning a little closer, letting my head rest just slightly against his shoulder. "You always know how to make someone feel…everything, don't you?"
He glanced at me, red eyes softening. "It's a gift," he said lightly, but I caught the sincerity in his tone.
We sat like that for a long while, chatting quietly, our heads resting near each other, letting the night wrap around us. There was no crown, no kingdom, no chaos just the two of us. Just Sylthar, who had ruined my plans and stolen my thunder, and me, who had stolen a kiss in return.
And for the first time in days, I felt…calm.