Chapter 140 A Night Worth Earning
Damien
I left her in that office with a promise on my tongue and a lie tucked neatly behind it. Dinner. Which was technically true. I told her to take her time, and I lingered outside for one extra heartbeat, listening to the first few clicks of the typewriter. Then I turned and walked away with fire sitting too close to my skin.
You’re going to pace, my dragon observed, smug inside my mind.
“I’m going to cook,” I muttered as I headed for the kitchens, hands flexing once at my sides.
You’re going to cook and pace.
I ignored him and kept moving. Nothing was more important than making sure everything was perfect. A handful of staff were in the kitchen when I arrived, but I dismissed them quickly.
Good, my dragon said once the doors shut. Now no one would ruin it with excessive competence.
I rolled up my sleeves. Food was the part I understood. Food was simple. I chopped vegetables, I set a pot to simmer, I seasoned by scent and instinct, tasting, adjusting, tasting again—the kitchen filled with steam and spice.
You're nervous, my dragon noted.
“I am focused.”
You are nervous and focused.
I slid bread into the oven and shut the iron door, then leaned back against the counter for half a breath and stared into the flames.
My dragon’s voice softened, the teasing edge easing away.
She chose you. She keeps choosing you.
The thought hit like a quiet weight in my chest.
“She deserves…” I started, then stopped, because the sentence had no end big enough.
She deserves everything, my dragon finished for me. You will give her a night that feels like it.
I pushed away from the counter, washed my hands, and got to work on the rest. I didn’t summon magic for the courtyard. I didn’t wave a hand and demand help. I carried the boxes of candles myself and set them along the stone path one by one. I lit them the same way I did everything today, controlled and deliberate, a steady touch that turned wicks to flames. The path began to look beautiful, a ribbon of light curling through the courtyard, guiding the eye toward the far end, where the gazebo waited. I pulled fairy lights from storage where they had been kept for festivals and public celebrations, and I threaded them through the trees with my own hands, adjusting until the glow sat gentle and scattered. I stepped back more than once to judge the balance.
More to the left, my dragon advised, as if he were a romance expert.
“Are you enjoying this?” I muttered, shifting the strand anyway.
Immensely.
The gazebo took longer to prepare because that part was important. I spread the pale blue cloth across the table, smoothing it until it lay flat and clean. I chose that colour because Bella’s magic always bled into that shade when she was calm, and I wanted calm for her. I placed candles in glass so the flames wouldn’t gutter. I set the wine where it would catch the light. I arranged cutlery with a precision that could have looked absurd if it hadn’t felt like devotion. When I was done, I stood in the centre of it all and realised my hands were trembling slightly. I stared at them, irritated for half a second, then forced myself to breathe.
My dragon laughed, a warm roll through my bones.
There he is—the king who fears a woman’s smile more than an enemy’s blade.
“She is going to think it's too much,” I said quietly.
She will say it is too much, he corrected. Then she will sit, and she will breathe, and she will let you have her softness because you earned it.
My pulse stayed loud in my ears anyway. I carried the meal out when it was ready and placed it where it would keep warm. Then I moved through the castle and spoke to the remaining staff with quiet authority.
“Make yourselves scarce,” I told them. “If anyone interrupts, they’d regret it.”
A few blinked. Then, almost as one, they smiled like I had just handed them a secret.
“Yes, my king,” they said, a chorus of conspirators.
I returned to the corridor outside Bella’s office and rested my palm against the door for a moment, listening. The typewriter was still going. Steady clicks, occasional pauses, then the rhythm starting again. Bella’s magic whispered faintly through the air, a cool thread that never sharpened into danger. It steadied the fire in me without even trying.
Go, my dragon urged, soft now. Bring her.
So I did.
Now, we walk through the castle together, the corridors quieter than usual because I made them that way. Her fingers curl through mine easily, and her step stays slow, tired and satisfied. When we reach the turn toward the dining room, Bella angles in that direction automatically, but I tug her back.
“This way tonight, Snowflake.”
She blinks up at me, mouth already curving. “Oh? Are we doing something fancy tonight, my king?”
I lift her hand and kiss the back of it, because if I don’t do something with this nervous energy, it’s going to crawl out of my skin.
“Only the best for you.”
Bella huffs a soft laugh, and I guide her down the side passage toward the outer doors. I open them and the cool air rolls in, crisp and clean, as the courtyard unfolds in candlelight. Bella stops the moment her shoes touch the stone. Her breath catches, audibly, and her eyes move across the path, over the lights, the glowing trees and the gazebo at the far end. Then she turns her head slowly and looks at me like I’ve pulled a miracle out of my sleeve.
“Damien,” she says, voice careful, amazed and amused at once, “this is a serious fire hazard.”
Relief softens my fears as a laugh bursts out of me.
Then she adds, softer, “But wow... This is beautiful.”
I guide her forward through the candlelit path. Her gaze keeps flicking around, taking it all in, seeing every detail. Her magic stays steady against my presence, cool and calm, her balance holding without strain. When we reach the gazebo, I step around the table and pull out her chair. The pale blue cloth glows under the candlelight. The wine waits, dark and rich. The entire night holds its breath. I look at her, hand still on the back of the chair, and let myself enjoy the sight of her standing here in my courtyard, free and alive and loved.
“Dinner,” I say quietly, and my voice holds more than one meaning. I wait for her to sit.