Page 45 of Unseen Eye (Aetherian Chronicles #1)

Theo groans dramatically, throwing an arm over his face. “They kept ‘accidentally’ brushing up against me, giggling the whole time. At one point, I’m pretty sure they were debating who got to keep me. Let’s just say the escape wasn’t graceful.”

Callon shares a story about a training exercise gone wrong, where he and Theo ended up in a swamp covered in mud and had to walk back to the barracks looking like swamp creatures.

“I still have nightmares about that mud,” Theo says, shaking his head.

Izzy smirks. “You should have seen Father’s face when you two walked in. Priceless.”

I lose track of time and the glasses of alcohol we’ve poured.

Eventually, Theo stands up and stretches.

“Whelp, guys, this was fun, but this general is turning in for the night. Don’t think this gets you out of training in the morning, Eva.

I still expect to see you bright and early. I’ve got a big day planned.”

“Cheers to that,” I say, raising my glass and finishing the last of the contents.

“Right behind you, big brother,” Izzy says, following him out.

“Pfftt,” Theo scoffs over his shoulder, “I’m older than you by three minutes.”

Izzy rolls her eyes, staggering slightly. “And that makes you wise beyond your years, I’m sure.”

“Then there were two,” Callon jokes as the door shuts behind Izzy.

“Can’t you use your princely powers to get me out of training tomorrow?” I ask, swaying slightly, half-joking, half-serious.

Callon raises an eyebrow, his lips quirking in amusement. “Princely powers?”

“Yeah, you know, ‘No training tomorrow for Eva,’” I say, attempting to mimic his voice, which probably sounds nothing like him but feels just right in my current state.

Callon tilts his head back and laughs, a deep, genuine laugh that fills the room. His blue eyes glisten like sunlight dancing on water, and I find myself drawn in, unable to look away.

“I don’t sound anything like that,” he manages between laughs.

“You’re beautiful when you laugh. Did you know that?” I blurt out, realizing how much I’m actually feeling it, but not caring one bit.

Callon laughs a second longer before meeting my gaze. “And you’re drunk.”

“Doesn’t mean I can’t admit you’re beautiful,” I say with a shrug, reaching for more alcohol.

“Oh no,” Callon says, moving the bottle out of my reach. “I think you’ve had enough for one night.”

“Please, Your Majesty, just one more glass?” I plead, too drunk to use my power to bring it closer.

“Nice try,” he says, then chuckles. His eyes dropping briefly to my lips before he meets my gaze again. “Now let’s get you to bed. Come on, I’ll walk you to your room.”

“I’m a strong, independent woman, I’ll have you know,” I begin, attempting to stand with a touch of dignity. “I am perfectly capable of—”

I stumble over the edge of the rug, and suddenly, an invisible force steadies me before I fall. I glance up at Callon, noticing his irises glimmering with a faint glow before fading back to their usual deep blue. So it was him who caught me the first time, too.

“Come on, Miss Independent,” he says, placing his hand on the small of my back, guiding us out of the room and up the staircase.

“I think we took a wrong turn somewhere,” I mutter, blinking as I look at the steps. “I don’t remember there being this many stairs.”

Callon chuckles softly, his hand still steady on my back. “We’re almost there.”

As we reach my bedroom door, I turn to face Callon and find him staring at me with an unreadable expression.

“A thought for a thought?” he asks.

“You first.”

“Oh no, ladies first, I insist.”

“Pftt, you and your manners,” I mutter. “Fine.” I take a deep breath and say the very thing I’ve been thinking about all evening. “I think you’re nothing like I expected you to be.”

That seems to catch him off guard. “And what were you expecting?” he whispers, stepping closer.

“Someone who didn’t care as much,” I say, barely above a whisper, too busy staring into his blue eyes again.

“And is that a good or a bad thing?” he challenges softly.

“It’s... dangerous,” I answer. “Your turn.”

He looks away for a moment, as though choosing his words carefully. “I’m thinking,” he begins, his gaze returning to mine, “you’d be very easy to fall for.”

My heart skips, and my breath catches, the world narrowing to the small space between us. “So, what’s stopping you?” I ask, bolder than I feel as I take a tiny step closer until we’re only inches apart.

“Darling,” he says softly, the term slipping out and earning a half-hearted glare from me, “you deserve someone much better than me.”

I feel my chest tighten, the alcohol giving me the courage to push back. “What happened to letting me choose my own destiny?”

He exhales, his expression caught somewhere between longing and restraint. “Trust me, I’m trying to do both of us a favor here.” He opens my bedroom door, and I step inside, lingering near him, unwilling to end the moment.

“Stay,” I ask, the word hanging in the air between us, an invitation, a silent plea.

His eyes darken, and for a moment, I think he might agree. But then he says, “You’re drunk.”

“So what? I’m still capable of knowing what I want.”

“Perhaps so, but this is me using my manners and telling you that you need to sleep.”

“Rejected,” I mutter, trying to joke though the sadness is evident in my eyes.

That’s the thing about falling for someone—they never tell you how much it’ll hurt when they don’t feel the same.

“Don’t make this harder than it needs to be,” he says softly, the tension thick, suffocating.

“You and your manners,” I reply, rolling my eyes, desperately trying to downplay how much his rejection stings.

What am I thinking? He’s a prince, and this game we’re playing can only end one way—with me hurt.

Maybe he’s right. It’s better this way. Sighing, I say, “Good night, Your Majesty,” with more sarcasm than I intended, hoping it shields some of the rawness I feel.

“Good night, Eva,” he replies. He leans forward as if to kiss me but must think better of it and stops. As he nears the staircase, he says over his shoulder, “At least we learned one thing today—you think I’m beautiful.” He winks.

Using the lightning-fast reflexes Theo’s been training me on, I whip off my shoe and throw it at his head. He barely ducks before the second one hits its mark.

“Such an evil little thing,” he says and chuckles, then disappears down the staircase, leaving me standing there, breathless and shoeless.