Barracks (War of Hearts)

33- Home

"What's the occasion?" I inquire after we passed the room. I try to regain my composure. "Aren't you supposed to be there?"

"I have a business to deal with," Xavier replies cryptically.

"Business?" I echo, my pulse quickening.

"Just an excuse to be with you," he says, his eyes holding mine. His honesty is both disarming and dangerous. 

The raw image of Aldaire, Stefani clinging to his arm, lingers like a bitter aftertaste. I push it aside, determined to focus on Xavier. My curiosity is insatiable, even if it's wrong to harbor interest in both men.

"I've lost track of time. The festival is this weekend?" I inquire, my pulse quickening. Xavier's presence is a whirlwind.

"Careful with the steps," he warns, and I wonder if he senses my unease. "Yes, it is. Since you're my special invite, I hope you don't mind me getting a dress for the occasion."

Special guest? The words echo in my mind. "Isn't anyone going to wonder why I'm not with Aldaire?" I ask, my voice betraying my turmoil. We're not bound by any formal ties, yet the council's scrutiny weighs heavily.

"I'm not sure if he'll make it back in time," Xavier explains. "Besides, he's made it clear with the council that you two aren't a real thing. A person's loss is another's gain."

Aldaire's denial in front of everyone stings, but it's justified. I'm still an exiler, fighting to prove my innocence. Yet, the thought of him with Stefani twists my insides. He doesn't have to be near her.

"And a pair of scented gloves," Xavier continues, changing the subject. "I thought you'd love to see the lights at night from Progue."

"You're being...extra," I tease, trying to lighten the mood.

"Trust me, it's not extra," he insists. "It's that time of year when everyone shows off."

I glance at my empty hands. I have nothing to show off—just a borrowed dress and scented gloves. "And when is Cormount's Seasonal Festival?" I ask, eager to learn more.

"In a few months," Xavier replies. "I hope you're still here to see how we celebrate over there."

"Is it different?" I'm genuinely curious.

"Absolutely. The food, the music, and the wine are good," he says, his eyes holding mine. "Just like all the other kingdoms. Yutres, Naveit, Vermont—they're all different. If your trip lasts that long, I can be your escort."

"I doubt you'll have time for me," I murmur, torn between longing and resignation.

Xavier's delicate confession catches me off guard. "Leizabeth," he says, his voice low and intimate. "For me, you're not an option but a privilege. It will always be that way. You aren't replaceable, as you think."

I stand frozen, my grin wide and uncontainable. 

His touch is delicate as he leads me to another set of stairs. We ascend, and when we step onto the secluded balcony, my breath catches. Never in my wildest imagination did I envision this view.

Below us sprawls a vast garden, vibrant and alive. We're a couple of floors above, and beyond the garden, the ocean stretches endlessly. Waves crash against the giant rocks, a wild symphony of nature. The sound is both soothing and exhilarating.

"This looks...beautiful," I murmur, my vocabulary failing me.

Xavier's side smile warms me as he guides me to a table adorned with flowers and expensive cutlery. On my empty plate rests a lily—a delicate offering. He's an old soul, a hopeless romantic, and I'm inexplicably drawn to him.

"I hope you like lilies," he says, his eyes holding mine. "My mother once said, 'One day, you'll find a woman worth more than a flower but a garden of it.' And I think I found that person."

I lift the lily to my nose, its fragrance soft and woody. "I see where you got your endearment from," I reply softly.

"She likes you," Xavier states, and I wonder who he's referring to.

"Well, I'm flattered," I admit. "But not everyone here feels the same. It's hard to tell."

Silence falls between us as I stare at him.

"Did she say anything else?" I press, hoping for more insight.

"That the color of your eyes reminds her of someone." Xavier's cryptic response leaves me curious.

"I guess not all vampires have a good memory," he jokes, and I join in, the tension easing.

"What a pity," I tease. Xavier's honesty is both a gift and a curse, and as we sit overlooking the garden and the crashing waves, I wonder if our stolen moments will someday become something more.