In a divided kingdom where magic is feared and those who wield it are hunted, Ariana, the daughter of a powerful councilman, lives a life of privilege and duty. But her world unravels when she encounters Kiran, a fugitive with the power to command...
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It started innocently enough.
We were sitting in the quiet alcove behind the council chambers, a spot we’d accidentally discovered during one of our many late-night escapes from prying eyes and relentless questions. The air was cool, and the soft golden light of the setting sun spilled through the arched windows, casting shadows across the stone walls.
Kiran leaned back against the wall, one leg stretched out in front of her, the other bent at the knee. She looked impossibly relaxed, as if she hadn’t just spent the last several weeks saving lives, breaking chains, and igniting revolutions. Her new outfit—sleek and dark and maddeningly flattering—did nothing to diminish her infuriating air of confidence.
Meanwhile, I sat on the bench across from her, my arms crossed and my thoughts an utter mess.
“You’ve been staring at me for the past five minutes,” Kiran said, breaking the silence.
“I’m not staring,” I shot back automatically, my voice a little too defensive.
Her smirk widened, and I instantly regretted giving her the satisfaction. “Oh, really? What would you call it, then?”
“I’m... thinking,” I said, flustered.
“About me?”
The question was so casual, so effortless, that it took me a moment to process it. And when I did, my face heated up so quickly I was sure she could see it.
“No!” I blurted out, a little too forcefully.
She tilted her head, her smirk turning downright wicked. “No?”
“I mean... not like that,” I mumbled, looking away.
“Hmm.” She leaned forward slightly, resting her elbows on her knee, her gaze never leaving mine. “Not like what?”
I groaned, burying my face in my hands. “Why are you like this?”
“Like what?” she asked, her tone dripping with feigned innocence.
“Like... like *this*!” I gestured vaguely in her direction, too flustered to form coherent sentences.
Kiran chuckled, the sound low and entirely too smug. “You’re cute when you’re flustered, you know that?”
I froze, my mind going completely blank. “I... what?”
“You heard me,” she said, her voice softer now but no less teasing.
I opened my mouth to respond, but nothing came out. My brain was too busy short-circuiting to form words.
Kiran seemed to sense my internal struggle because she leaned back again, clearly enjoying herself. “Relax, Ari,” she said, her smirk softening into something almost fond. “I’m just teasing you.”
“Yeah, well, maybe you should stop,” I muttered, trying—and failing—to regain some semblance of composure.
“Why would I do that?” she asked, her amber eyes sparkling with mischief.
“Because it’s... unfair,” I said lamely.
“Unfair?” She raised an eyebrow, her expression equal parts amused and curious. “How so?”
“Because...” I trailed off, unsure how to finish that sentence without making an even bigger fool of myself.
Kiran waited patiently, clearly enjoying my discomfort. When it became clear that I wasn’t going to elaborate, she leaned forward again, her gaze locking onto mine.
“Say it,” she said, her voice low and almost coaxing.
“Say what?” I asked, suddenly very aware of how close she was.
“That you like me,” she said simply, as if it were the easiest thing in the world.
My heart stopped.
“I...”
She tilted her head, watching me carefully. “What? Cat got your tongue?”
“I’m not—” I started, but she cut me off.
“Don’t lie, Ari,” she said, her tone turning teasing again. “I’ve seen the way you look at me. I just want to hear you say it.”
I glared at her, though the effect was probably ruined by the fact that my face was burning. “You’re insufferable, you know that?”
“And yet, here you are,” she said, her smirk widening.
I hated how right she was.
“I’m not saying it,” I said stubbornly, crossing my arms.
“Why not?” she asked, her tone light but her eyes sharp.
“Because,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.
“Because what?”
“Because you already know,” I said, finally meeting her gaze.
For a moment, Kiran just stared at me, her expression unreadable. Then, to my surprise, she smiled—not her usual smug smirk, but something softer, almost... tender.
“Maybe,” she said quietly. “But I still want to hear it.”
My chest tightened, and for a moment, I considered giving in. But then I remembered who I was dealing with—the most insufferable, arrogant, teasing person I’d ever met—and my stubbornness kicked in.
“Not happening,” I said firmly.
Kiran laughed, the sound warm and surprisingly genuine. “Alright, fine,” she said, leaning back again. “I’ll let it go—for now.”
“Good,” I said, though I wasn’t entirely sure who had won that exchange.
The conversation drifted to other things after that—plans for the council, updates on the village, musings about the future—but the tension from earlier never quite left. It lingered in the air between us, unspoken but undeniable.
And as I sat there, listening to Kiran talk about her plans for the coming weeks, I couldn’t help but wonder if she already knew the truth. If she could see the way my heart raced whenever she smiled, or the way my chest ached whenever she teased me.
