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“Mila?” I called, rushing into the stables. I didn’t know how I knew she’d be here. I somehow did. And when I saw that long, silky white braid flip through the air as her head turned to me, saw those crystal eyes widen and the sword in her hand, it was like an answer to a question I didn’t know I was asking.

“Malakai?” she asked, a hint of amusement I’d missed in her voice. Her cuffs were back around her wrists, her leathers back in place, but a bit of her was looser than this morning.

“I—” I came to a stop in front of her, suddenly unsure about what I was going to ask. Fuck, was this too soon after what she went through? But she licked her full lips, and I didn’t give an Angel’s wings about anything else. “Do you think children are inherently dictated by the actions of their parents?”

It was certainly not the question she’d expected. Her eyes widened even further, if it was possible. They flicked around my face, picking me into fucking pieces, like she had been all these months.

After a moment, she set down the sword.

She stepped closer to me and lifted the hand I’d clenched into a fist, uncurling my fingers without taking those eyes off me. My muscles eased.

“No, Malakai. I do not think children bear any responsibility for what their parents do.” Had she stepped closer again? She was speaking slowly. Each word pointed. “I do not think the decisions your father made have any say in the man you are, unless you let them.”

Unless I let them. As I had been since I was imprisoned. I let that man throw away my life and continue to ruin it after his death.

But maybe, if I really was not beholden to the atrocities he was responsible for, if someone who had suffered the brunt of his monstrous actions really felt this way, maybe I could change that path.

Carefully, I reached for one of the stubborn tendrils of hair that always pulled free of Mila’s braid. She watched my fingers as I twirled that strand, her lips parting.

“Mila?” A dormant instinct vibrated beneath my skin, begging to be unlocked.

“Mm-hmm,” she hummed, eyes bouncing between my hand and my lips.

“Can I kiss you?” I needed clear permission after how her autonomy had been ripped from her before. Needed to hear her say it was all right.

When her eyes finally met mine, and she whispered, “Yes,” that beast beneath my skin thrummed.

Slowly, I tucked that strand of hair behind her ear and lowered my lips to hers. She sighed as we met, needing no insistence to let me in. I dragged my tongue against hers with slow but sure strokes, channeling all those promises of safety I’d made her into this one kiss.

Mila tasted like everything I’d imagined and more, sweet and sinful all at once, as if the ghosts of what we’d both survived comprised us and were woven into every move we made. She was a damn dream, our lips in perfect sync. She grabbed at my leathers, one hand wrapping around my neck and tugging me closer.

I was hard in an instant, but I didn’t want to force past any boundaries. This needed to move at her pace—whatever that was.

Still, gripping her hips, I backed her up to the wooden wall. She leaned against it, and I dragged my hands down her body, memorizing every curve, even through her leathers, and every sound she made. Fuck, I wanted all of her. Every scarred piece—would fall to my knees and devour her if she’d let me.

Keeping one hand in her hair, I gripped her ass with the other and pulled her closer. She gasped as my cock pressed against her and dragged her hands into my hair hungrily. I leaned further over her, her head tilting back against the wall.

I didn’t know how much time had passed before I forced myself to break apart from her. Chests heaving, we stood there for a moment, my forehead dropping to hers.

“I was wondering when you would finally do that,” she panted. Her cheeks were flushed, a sight I committed to memory.

I cleared my throat. “I guess I was slow to figure it out.”

“Best pick up the pace, Warrior Prince.” Before I could ask what she meant, she ducked out of my hold, retrieved her swords, and sheathed them across her back, heading for the door. “Are you coming? We have a war waiting for us.”

For a moment, I watched her, shocked. This woman was truly a mystery. Every time I thought I had her figured out, she showed another side of herself. A new piece of the puzzle.

I wanted them all.

Catching up to her at the door, I ducked and whispered in her ear, “Yes, General.”

Chapter Fifty-Five

Ophelia

When Tolek left to meet Malakai and Cypherion, I sat on the couch with a cup of tea for what was likely the last few minutes of quiet I would get before we left. I soaked them in, letting the silence settle across my skin with the warmth from the fire.

I picked up Lucidius’s journal. Malakai had given it to me in the Labyrinth after the cave-in, not being able to focus on much other than Mila.