The rain began softly, tapping like fingers against the glass.
Soon, it turned into a heavy, steady downpour that turned the world outside into a gray blur.
Inside, Evryn stood by the window.
Her breath fogged the glass.
She told herself that Auren should leave.
He was a King; he shouldn’t be standing in the mud like a servant.
But she knew the truth now.
The spell was like an invisible chain.
He couldn’t leave even if he hated her.
That thought made her heart ache.
She hated that he was a prisoner, and she hated that she was his cage.
Outside, Auren did not move.
The cold rain soaked his clothes and ran down his face, but he stood still.
He didn’t knock.
He didn’t shout.
He had given her the truth, and now he was giving her the power to decide what happened next.
Evryn pressed her hand against the cold window.
She could just barely see his dark shape standing in the storm.
He looked so lonely.
Her chest felt tight.
She couldn’t stand it anymore.
She ran to the door and pulled it open.
The wind blew the rain onto her face.
Auren was right there, leaning on a wall of the street, looking like a ghost in the dark.
“It’s raining,” he said quietly.
His voice was steady, but he looked tired.
“Where are you going?”
Evryn looked at him.
His hair was dripping, and his shirt was stuck to his skin.
She wanted to be angry, but all she felt was a deep, painful sadness for both of them.
She didn’t say a word.
She couldn’t.
Her throat was too tight with emotion.
Instead, she simply stepped back, leaving the door wide open.
It was an invitation.
Auren watched her for a second, searching her eyes for a sign of hate.
When he found only a soft, broken kind of care, he stepped inside.
He brought the smell of rain and the cold night air with him.
As the door clicked shut, the silence in the room felt heavy.
They were close again, trapped together by magic, but for the first time, the distance between their hearts felt much wider than the room.
The rain kept falling, loud and heavy against the roof.
The sound filled the small, quiet house.
Auren stood by the door, dripping wet.
His hair was messy and dark from the water.
He didn’t move, looking like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to stay.
Evryn didn’t say anything at first.
she went to the stove and heated some water.
She carried it to the wooden tub, and warm steam began to rise into the air.
“You will get sick if you stay wet,” she said softly.
He was a vampire king; he didn’t get sick like humans do.
But he didn’t say that.
He just watched her.
She gave him a towel.
“You should wash,” she told him.
He took off his wet shirt.
The water ran down his strong shoulders and back.
He had the body of a warrior, covered in old scars from many battles.
Evryn looked at him for a second, then quickly looked away, her face feeling warm.
Auren stepped into the warm water and sat down.
The steam made everything in the room look soft and blurry.
“Evryn,” he said quietly.
She stopped and looked at him.
“You are not a burden,” he said, his voice deep and serious.
“And you are not a mistake.
I don’t want you to think this is your fault.”
Evryn looked into his silver eyes through the steam.
Her heart felt heavy, but also a little bit lighter.
She didn’t answer him.
She didn’t need to.
In that moment, the truth was in their eyes, and words weren’t enough to explain the strange, painful bond between them.
she hid in her room while he bathed.
She put out dry clothes for him, her hands moving because she always liked to take care of people.
But her heart was heavy.
She felt him enter the room before she heard him.
The air became warm and heavy.
She turned around slowly.
Auren stood there with a towel around his waist.
Water was still on his skin, and his damp hair fell over his face.
He looked strong, but also tired and quiet.
He sat on the edge of the bed without saying a word.
Evryn knew she should leave, but she felt guilty.
He had suffered so much pain because of the spell.
She wanted to help him.
She took a small towel and stepped toward him.
Gently, she began to dry his hair.
Her fingers brushed his skin, and her heart skipped a beat.
Auren lowered his head, letting her care for him.
The room felt very small and very quiet.
Then, Auren reached out.
His hands gripped her waist softly, pulling her closer until she was standing right between his knees.
He rested his forehead against her, holding her like he was afraid she would vanish again.
“We need to talk,” he whispered.
“We are not done.”
Evryn closed her eyes.
His voice made her want to cry.
“We are done, Auren,” she said softly.
She gently moved his hands away from her waist.
For a second, their fingers lingered together.
But she stepped back anyway.
She walked to the door.
Before she left, she looked back.
“I will help you with everything…
until you are free from me,” she said.
Then she went into the hallway and closed the door.
Inside the room, the air was still thick with the scent of cedar and the fading warmth of the bath.
Auren remained exactly where Evryn had left him, sitting on the edge of the bed.
The weight of her hands still seemed to press against his skin, a ghost of a touch that felt more real than the stone walls of his own castle.
Free from me.
The words echoed in his mind, over and over.
They were meant to be a promise of kindness, a selfless vow to help him break his chains.
But to Auren, they sounded like a sentence of exile.
He looked down at his hands.
He had led armies through blizzards and stood before ancient thrones without trembling.
He was a King who dealt in cold facts and hard steel.
But this girl, with her simple dresses and her stubborn heart, had done something he didn’t think possible.
She had made him doubt his own soul.
He stood up slowly and walked to the window.
The glass was cold against his forehead.
He watched the rain turn the dirt street into a river of mud.
He forced himself to think…truly think.
He went back to the first moment he saw her in the ceremony.
The spell had flared then, a sharp needle in his heart telling him to stay close.
He had hated it.
He had looked at her and seen only a task, a burden he had to endure to keep his life.
But when had that changed?
He closed his eyes and tried to imagine the magic snapping.
In his mind, he saw the magic threads of the bond turn to ash and blow away.
He pictured himself standing in this room, completely free.
No pain in his chest.
No pull toward her pulse.
In that imaginary freedom, he saw himself walking to the door.
He saw himself stepping out into the rain and riding away to his kingdom, back to his cold throne and his silent halls.
The thought didn’t bring him peace.
It brought a cold, hollow ache that felt far worse than the spell.
He realized then that the magic was like a vine.
It had been planted by a curse, yes.
It had grown because it was forced to.
But somewhere along the way, it had flowered into something else.
The spell might have brought him to her door, but his own heart was the reason he didn’t want to walk out of it.
“You don’t understand, Evryn,” he whispered to the empty room.
She thought she was a chain.
She thought she was a cage he was desperate to escape.
She didn’t realize that in her effort to set him free, she was breaking the only thing that made him feel alive in a hundred years.
He didn’t want to be “free” if it meant the world went back to being gray and silent.
He would rather be bound to her for a thousand years than be a King in a world where she wasn’t looking back at him.
He stayed by the window for a long time, watching the storm.
He knew he couldn’t just tell her this; she wouldn’t believe him.
She would think it was just the magic talking.