The Library was quiet- eerily so. A place where time felt still, as though the echoes of a thousand forgotten secrets hovered between shelves thick with dust and history.
Xandria's fingers trembled as she traced the outline of a weathered spine, her eyes scanning the ancient language etched to it. She pulled the book free, heart beating louder than the silence around her.
She actually did not know what she was looking for. But she had been searching for answers since that night - after Elara had visited her room and she saw her talking to someone about the necklace. Her words were laced with something dark. Something forbidden.
The pages of the book were brittle and yellowed, but the ink remained vivid. She turned each one with care, afraid the truth might vanish if she rushed. And then - there it was.
"Crafted of fire and frost, the twin -forged relic is said to bind two halves of the same soul. Lost during the sundering of the North, it holds both ruin and redemption. Whoever wears it must choose between light and shadow- between destruction and destiny "
Xandria's blood ran cold.
Fire and frost.
Her necklace.
How did Elara get it? It had been lost in the North for ages.
And why give it to me?
Her fingers rose instinctively to her throat, but of course, it was the fake necklace that was on her neck. She had hidden the real one in her drawer after switching it. A quiet act of defiance. Of survival.
She didn't even hear the door open.
Didn't sense him move.
Only when a soft voice - low, sharp -edged, yet unmistakeably male - broke the silence did she jolt upright.
"You're not suppose to be here"
She spun around, her breath caught.
Maltherion stood by the entrance, dressed in midnight black. His eyes, those burning golden embers - fixed on her, unreadable. Dangerous. Divine.
"I --" Her voice cracked. "I needed to read."
He stepped forward slowly, his boots echoing off the stone floor like the ticking of fate. "At this hour? Alone?"
"I couldn't sleep," she whispered .
"And so you came here." His gaze dropped to the book in her hands. "To uncover the truth."
She hesitated, then held the book up between them. "Tell me what you know about this. About the necklace."
Maltherion's jaw clenched. His silence was an answer itself.
"You recognized it, didn't you?" She pressed. "The day Elara gifted it to me, I saw you glance at it while we were in the carriage."
His hands curled into fists at his sides. "Where did she get it from?"
"She had it on since after she was sick. I can't really remember where she got it from. But she never took it off. I was shocked the day she gave me when I was leaving."
A pause stretched between them, thick with disbelief.
"I switched the necklace," she added. "After I followed her and saw her meeting someone in the servant's quaters. I think... I think it was her plan to monitor me in case something in me awakened."
Maltherion's eyes darkened. " You shouldn't have worn it at all."
She raised her chin. "The moment I realized something was wrong I took it off. I bought a copy in the market and swapped it. The real one is hidden."
Silence. Then:
" You're smarter than I thought," he murmured.
" Smarter than your wife should be?" She bit, her voice sharper now.
His eyes flashed. "No. Smarter than I deserve."
That stopped her. For the first time, she noticed how tired he looked. Not just physically -but spiritually. Like he was hiding something. Like he was carrying the weight of centuries in his bones.
Maltherion stepped closer. "That necklace...it belonged to the first Queen of Alderyn. A gift from the North, before the kingdom was divided. Forged by flames and frost. They say it cursed her bloodline."
" And now it's back," Xandria whispered. " In your Kingdom. On my neck."
He nodded once. "Which means fate is no longer asleep."
She felt the weight of those words, heavy and intense.
"I want the truth," she said, softer this time.
" No more secrets."
Maltherion's expression flickered. " There are some truths that burn when spoken. But you're owed them."
She took a step closer, heart pounding .
"Then speak them."
He stared at her for a long moment, and then looked down at the book in her hands. " The relic binds. Not just by magic. It awakes whatever has been sleeping inside you. It makes your soul remember things your mind might have forgotten."
" I have been dreaming," she confessed. " Not just of the necklace. Of fire. Of someone calling my name like it's the end of the world."
Maltherion's face was unreadable. " The Gias... It's not just a pull. It's a promise. one sealed by ancient blood and ancient betrayal. You were never meant to be ordinary Xandria."
She turned away, hugging the book to her chest. "That's what scares me"
"I know," he said gently.
She felt him step closer, the air warming around her. His presence was overwhelming - like he could set her aflame just by breathing too close. And yet, she didn't move.
"I hated you, at first," she admitted quietly.
" For choosing me. For trapping me in this palace. But now... I don't know how to feel."
" I didn't choose you," Maltherion said, his voice low. " The Gias did. But I chose to follow it. To follow you. That is the only part that matters."
She turned to face him again. " What if what is inside me is meant to destroy you? To burn you?"
" Then I'll burn beside you," he whispered, stepping into her space.
Her breath hitched as his hand gently touched her cheeks. "You don't even know who I truly am. "
" And you don't know who I truly am either." He said. " But I want you to know. And I want to know who you truly are too."
His fingers slid down her waist, pulling her closer. Her heart thundered as she looked up into his eyes - eyes that saw through every wall she tried to build.
She leaned in, drawn not by magic but by something older. More human. More dangerous.
His lips brushed hers - light, hesitant, reverent. A question, not a command.
She answered him with a kiss of her own.
Their mouths met softly at first, but the fire that had always smoldered between them roared to life. His hands tangled in her hair, her fingers pressed against his chest. Their kiss deepened - no longer a whisper of desire, but a storm.
When they finally pulled apart, both were breathless.
"I don't want to be your prisoner," she whispered.
" You're not." He said, voice rough. " You're my Wife. You're my Queen."