Inside the bedchamber, Lumina twisted beneath heavy silk sheets, her slender body curling tight then stretching out in restless, desperate arcs, as though she could outrun the cage of her own skin.

Sleep had forsaken her long ago, what remained was a low, constant fever that burned beneath her ribs and refused to be quenched.

Then the pain struck sharp, merciless, like a blade twisting deep inside her chest. She cried out, a broken scream that tore from her throat and echoed off the stone walls.

"Mum... Mum!"

The word dissolved into wrenching sobs, her voice small and childlike in the swallowing dark. Thunder crashed overhead, shaking the tall windows, and she bolted upright, drenched in cold sweat, tears streaming so thick they blurred the world into smears of shadow and moonlight.

She gasped for air, chest heaving violently, the storm outside mirroring the one raging within her wild, relentless, tearing at every fragile seam of her composure.

In that moment of pure, animal terror, her mind reached for Ashen. His face bloomed in her heart like a desperate prayer offered to the only god she still believed in.

She clutched at the memory of him, whispering his name through choking sobs until another thunderclap sent her body jerking violently.

She was drowning in tears, barely able to breathe, the ache in her soul sharper than any physical wound she had ever known but he wasn’t there.

Panic clawed up her throat like living thorns. She stumbled from the bed, bare feet slapping cold marble, and rushed to the closet.

Her trembling fingers found his robe, the heavy midnight-blue one he wore when he stood guard over her in the quiet hours and she pulled it around her shoulders, burying her face in the thick wool.

She inhaled deeply, desperately, searching for the warm, grounding scent of cedar smoke, polished steel, and him.

It lingered, faint but real, and for one heartbeat it steadied her. But even that comfort was fading, slipping away like sand through her fingers, leaving her hollow and shaking.

Terror and longing warred inside her until she could no longer bear the emptiness.

She finally rose on unsteady legs, wiped her streaming eyes with the wide sleeve of his robe, and slipped from the room. She could no longer bear being away from him.

The corridor beyond was silent save for the two guards posted at the outer door. They would never let her pass not at this hour, not without an escort or explanation.

But she had not forgotten the old trick from the Celestial Realm: a soft shimmer of light and shadow, a whisper of starlit illusion that bent perception just enough to make their eyes slide past her as though she were made of mist.

She moved like a ghost down the winding halls, heart hammering, until she reached the heavy oak doors of his private office.

He had told him he would be here tonight. She had begged to stay with him and insisted she could bear his burdens beside him, but he had always refused, always protecting her, even from himself.

She pushed the door open on silent hinges and there he was.

Ashen sat slumped in the great carved chair behind the desk, head resting on his folded arms, his lashes casting long shadows across his cheeks.

Candlelight flickered over the deep lines of exhaustion etched into his handsome face, the faint scar along his jaw, the tousled black hair that always fell across his brow when he was too weary to push it back.

Lumina’s heart cracked wide open at the sight of him so strong, yet so achingly tired.

She flew across the room on silent feet and sank onto the arm of his chair, sliding into the circle of his warmth. Her arms wrapped around him with fierce, trembling tenderness, her cheek pressing to the broad plane of his shoulder as though she could pour every ounce of her love into him through touch alone.

His eyes flew open, wide with shock and instant concern. "My queen..." His voice was rough with sleep and worry, gravelly and low. "It’s the middle of the night. Why are you here without a single guard?"

Tears spilled fresh down her cheeks. She couldn’t speak at first, only clung harder, trembling against him like a leaf in a storm. Ashen understood instantly. The raw pain in her silver eyes, the way her small frame shattered against his he felt it like a wound carved into his own chest.

"I missed you," she whispered, voice breaking on every syllable. "I... I couldn’t sleep. The dark... the thunder... I needed you."

A soft, aching smile curved his lips, tender and heartbroken all at once, even as something dark and vicious whispered in the back of his mind.

He pushed it down ruthlessly, refusing to let it poison this moment. His strong arms encircled her completely, drawing her down into his lap so she could curl against his chest where she belonged and she did. She always had.

"I am here," he murmured, pressing his lips to her temple in a slow, reverent kiss. "I have got you, my love. Always."

She nestled deeper into the curve of his neck, breathing him in, her small hands fisting in the front of his shirt as though she could anchor herself to him forever.

He felt her grow heavier as exhaustion finally began to claim her, her body burning with fever, her breath shallow and warm against his skin. Yet even as sleep tugged at her, she held on, refusing to let go.

Ashen’s large hand moved in slow, soothing circles over her back, tracing the delicate line of her spine through the robe while his other hand cradled the nape of her neck, thumb brushing the soft skin behind her ear.

He dipped his head and kissed her forehead, lingering there, letting his lips rest against her fever-warm skin.

"You are safe," he whispered against her brow. "Nothing can touch you here.."

She shivered, pressing closer. He kissed the corner of her eye, tasting salt, then trailed his lips along the delicate arch of her cheekbone, soft and worshipful.

Each kiss was a promise, a balm against the terror that had driven her to him. When she tilted her face up, eyes shining with unshed tears and desperate love, he captured her mouth in a slow, deep kiss gentle at first, then fiercer as she melted against him.

His tongue brushed hers with aching tenderness, tasting her tears, swallowing her quiet whimpers. He kissed her as though she were the only holy thing left in a world gone mad.

When they parted, both breathing hard, he rested his forehead against hers. "Tell me," he murmured, he knew his wife would never sleep off like that, he knew she so badly wanted to speak with him.

"I dreamed of her again," she whispered. "My mother. The blade... the blood... and then you weren’t there, and I thought..." Her voice cracked. "I thought I would lose you too."

"Never." He kissed her again, harder this time, pouring every vow he couldn’t speak into the press of his mouth. "I will fight every shadow that tries to take me from you."

She made a small, broken sound and buried her face in his neck. He kissed the crown of her head, then her temple, then the sensitive spot beneath her ear, murmuring love against her skin until she trembled for an entirely different reason.

He felt her grow limp in his arms, exhaustion finally winning. But the voice returned louder, crueler.

"Kill her."

His vision blurred at the edges. His legs trembled as he rose, lifting her effortlessly into his arms. He knew he needed to stay away from her and the only reason was if he went back to their private chambers.

She stirred only enough to wrap her arms around his neck, trusting him completely even in the haze of near-sleep.

Each step toward their private chambers was a battle, his chest burned as though branded, his sight doubled, the command screaming inside his skull like shattering glass.

"Kill her! Kill her! Kill her!"

He staggered through the door, sweat beading on his brow, and laid her gently on the bed as though she were spun glass.

The moment his arms began to withdraw, her eyes fluttered open. Delicate fingers caught his hand, anchoring him with surprising strength.

"Ashen..." Her voice was a fragile plea, eyes shining with love and lingering fear.

There he froze, every muscle locked in torment. The voice roared, deafening, but her touch and her gaze silenced it to a distant whisper.

"I am not going anywhere," he breathed, voice cracking. He sank onto the edge of the bed, letting her pull him down until he lay beside her. She curled into him instantly, head on his chest, ear pressed to the steady thunder of his heart.

He wrapped both arms around her, one hand threading through her silver hair, the other splayed protectively across her back. He kissed her forehead again, then her closed eyelids, tasting the last of her tears.

"Sleep, my love," he whispered against her skin. "I am here. I will always be here."

She sighed, a soft, trusting sound, and her breathing slowly evened into the gentle rhythm of true sleep. The feverish heat of her skin began to cool against his, her small body relaxing completely in the safety of his embrace.

Only then did he ease away, careful not to wake her, and move to the chaise beside the bed.