After their decisive victory over Orinovo, Lys-Akkaria's army crosses the border to take back territory that used to be theirs. With the combined forces of a lightweaver and shadowforger, Orinovo doesn't stand a chance.
In spite of their newfound a...
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Denir furiously scribbled in his diary. He couldn't keep his thoughts in his head anymore. He'd seen Neven Oretski again, and he yearned so badly.
It happened every time he saw the kapetan. Just being near him made Denir's heart stutter, and his hands always got all clammy as his insides fluttered. He could barely look at Neven without getting nervous.
Denir flushed a bit as he drew a heart with his and Neven's names written next to each other.
He knew they couldn't be together. Certainly not with the current state of things.
How could they? Orinovo didn't allow two men to court each other, never mind the fact that he was a prince, and Neven was a just soldier, no matter how elite. But that did nothing to stop Denir from daydreaming.
Thinking about holding Neven's hand was enough to make Denir forget where he was. And once he dared to imagine them kissing, well, save to say he'd get nothing done that day.
Denir sighed as he paused writing out his feelings. He loved getting lost in how in love he felt, but the reality always came crashing down, ruining his joy.
What was the point dreaming when it could never be?
Denir flinched when someone knocked on his door. He scrambled to hide his diary in the hole in the floor he'd created by pulling out a floorboard. So far no one had found his hiding place, and hopefully no one ever wound. That would be Denir's greatest fear.
He breathed out as he put the floorboard in place, hiding everything perfectly, before walking over to the door and slowly opening it, steeling himself.
But nothing he could have done would have prepared him for being face to face with the object of his desires, the kapetan himself.
For a second Denir was frozen, utterly transfixed staring at the man's chiseled jawline, beautiful, blue eyes, his stubble.... Denir wanted to caress it.
He blinked as Neven bowed to him. "Moy kraline."
Denir swallowed thickly at Neven being so proper. Of course he was—Denir was the prince—but he liked hearing Neven call him that a bit too much. Inappropriately so.
Neven was wearing a full suit armor too, something Denir had seen during official ceremonies. He looked so good.
"N—Kapetan Oretski," Denir quickly corrected, nodding as he tried to pull himself together enough to be a little normal. "Hello. Uh. Is something wrong? Does my mother require me?"
Neven shook his head, his face stony and serious. He looked so handsome like that, all cool and confident. It made Denir swoon. "Nothing like that. There are rumors of Lys-Akkarian assassins in the castle. I am to be your guardian for the time being."
Denir stared at Neven for a moment, processing this. So he and Neven would be in close quarters for a while. This seemed like a dream he'd have, not reality.
