Forbidden Sparks

XXXVIII

The quiet knock on my chamber door was so soft that at first, I thought I'd imagined it. I turned my head, frowning. It was late, and my room in the Solace palace was usually left undisturbed after hours. Whoever it was didn't wait for my response. The door creaked open, and the air shifted as someone slipped inside.

Kiran.

She moved like a shadow, her light steps barely disturbing the plush carpet. Her ability to seemingly melt into her surroundings always unnerved and fascinated me. Tonight, though, her presence brought something I hadn't felt in weeks: relief.

"Nice cloak," she teased, her voice light but quiet enough not to carry. She gestured toward the black garment draped over the chair by my dressing table. "Very regal. Very 'War Commander.'"

I gave her a dry look, but she pressed on, her lips twitching into a smirk. "You watched didn't you?"

"I did—you had to spend hours standing around while people stared at you and pretended to care?" She mimed an exaggerated pose, standing stiffly with her hands clasped behind her back, then gave me a mock-serious expression.

I couldn't help it—I laughed. A short, sharp sound that startled even me. It had been days since anything had managed to cut through the tension knotted in my chest, and somehow Kiran had done it with a single ridiculous expression.

"That's about right," I admitted, leaning back in my chair. My muscles protested the movement. I still wasn't fully recovered, even though her magic had worked wonders. But I didn't want her to see that.

She stepped closer, her smirk softening into something gentler. "It's a good look on you, though. All those embroidered beasts, the drama of it... You wear it well, Ari."

I rolled my eyes at the compliment but didn't argue. "It's heavy."

Kiran reached out, brushing her fingers over the fabric of the cloak where it rested on the chair. "It suits you. Even if it's ridiculous." Her voice was quiet now, almost reverent.

I tilted my head, studying her. The firelight flickered across her face, highlighting the sharp angles of her cheekbones and the subtle curve of her lips. There was something in her eyes—something unguarded, for once.

"Kiran," I said softly, breaking the silence that had settled between us.

She met my gaze, and for a moment, neither of us spoke. The air seemed to shift again, charged with something I couldn't quite name.

"You didn't have to come," I said, though my voice lacked conviction.

Her lips curved into a faint smile. "I wanted to. You looked like you could use a friend."

She wasn't wrong. The weight of the promotion, my father's paranoia, and the secrets I carried—it was all crushing me. But I didn't say that. Instead, I stood, crossing the room to where she stood by the chair.

"Well, if you're here to mock my new role, you might as well stay awhile," I said, trying to keep my tone light.

Kiran's smile widened. "Mocking you is my favorite pastime, after all."

I rolled my eyes again, but the corners of my mouth twitched upward. She always had a way of disarming me, cutting through the walls I'd built around myself.

She reached out suddenly, her fingers brushing against mine. The contact was brief, but it sent a jolt through me. I looked up at her, startled, and found her watching me with an intensity that made my breath catch.

"I mean it," she said softly. "You looked... lost earlier. Like you were carrying something too heavy for anyone to bear."

Her words hit harder than I wanted them to. I looked away, focusing on the flickering shadows cast by the fire. "I'm fine," I said, too quickly.

Kiran didn't push, but she didn't move away either. Instead, she reached for the cloak again, lifting it off the chair. "May I?" she asked, holding it up.

I frowned. "May you what?"

"Try it on, of course," she said, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

I snorted. "You're impossible."

"And you're avoiding answering, which means I'm doing it anyway."

Before I could protest, she swung the cloak around her shoulders, the fabric swallowing her slight frame. She struck a dramatic pose, her chin tilted upward and her hands clasped behind her back. 

"I am War Commander Kiran of Solace," she intoned in a mock-serious voice, mimicking my father's pompous tone from the ceremony. "Bow before me, mere mortals."

I burst out laughing, the sound bubbling up before I could stop it. Kiran grinned, clearly pleased with herself, and did a slow twirl in the cloak. The silver embroidery caught the firelight, shimmering as she moved.

"You look ridiculous," I said between laughs. I stood, adjusting the coveted chain, linking the two sides "And it's I am Kiran, War Commander of Solace."

"Ridiculously powerful," she corrected, flipping an imaginary lock of hair over her shoulder.

I shook my head, but the knot in my chest felt a little looser. She always had a way of doing that—reminding me that even in the midst of chaos, the was room for laughter.

She stopped twirling and turned to face me, her expression softening. "But seriously, Ari... You're doing okay, right? I mean, really okay?"

The laughter faded, and I hesitated. Kiran was the only person I could even think about confiding in, but even with her, the words felt too heavy.

"I'm... managing," I said finally. It wasn't the whole truth, but it wasn't a lie either.

Kiran studied me for a moment, then nodded. "Good. Because Solace needs you, whether they realize it or not." 

Her words carried a weight that lingered long after she shrugged off the cloak and draped it back over the chair.

For a while, we just sat by the fire, the silence between us companionable. The chaos outside this room felt distant, muted.

When Kiran finally stood to leave, she hesitated at the door, looking back at me. "Ari?"

"Yes?"

She hesitated, then smiled faintly. "You're stronger than you think."

And then she was gone, slipping into the shadows as effortlessly as she'd arrived.

I sat there for a long time after she left, staring at the flickering flames. Her words echoed in my mind, a quiet reassurance that maybe—just maybe—I could carry this weight after all.