Chapter Sixty Six: The Kiss

Chapter Sixty Six: The Kiss
Freya’s heart was still tangled in thoughts of Rima’s strange “royal” slip as she walked down the quiet hallway. The estate was calm, the hum of activity replaced by the low hum of air vents and distant footfalls. She was deep in thought—about the Core, about Axir, about everything—when a familiar voice called her name.

“Freya!”

She looked up, startled, and there was Kehan striding toward her, his usual grin lighting up his face. He looked effortlessly at ease, dressed in his dark green tunic, hair a little tousled as if he’d just come from the wind.

“Ah, there you are,” he said, eyes flickering over her face. “I was wondering where my favorite human vanished to. How are you holding up so far?”

Freya hesitated, torn between the flutter in her chest and the reminder of his endless teasing. But this time, she wasn’t here for banter. This was her chance.

“Actually, Kehan…” she began carefully. “Can we talk? Privately?”

He tilted his head, pretending to look scandalized. “Oh? You just couldn’t resist cornering me, huh?” His lips quirked into a smirk. Then, seeing the serious look in her eyes, he softened. “Alright, alright. Let’s talk somewhere quiet. Come with me.”

He led her down a narrow corridor until they reached a glass door that opened into a lush expanse.

“This,” he said with a touch of pride, “is the secret garden.”

Freya stepped inside—and her breath caught.

The space was enormous, dome-shaped, filled with cascading plants that glowed faintly in hues of blue and silver. Delicate vines dangled from crystal arches, tiny winged creatures flitting between them. The air was cool and damp, carrying the earthy scent of moss and something sweet she couldn’t name. Pools of light shimmered on the ground, cast by hovering orbs that floated lazily above their heads.

“It’s beautiful,” she whispered.

Kehan smiled softly, watching her more than the scenery. “I come here when I need to breathe,” he said. “Feels like the only place that listens.”

Freya brushed her fingers across the petal of a translucent flower. “I can see why.”

They wandered a little deeper, the sound of distant dripping water surrounding them. Then Kehan gestured toward a small stone bench beside a cluster of glowing ferns.

“Here,” he said, sitting first. “So—what did you want to talk about?”

Freya sat slowly, her heart thudding. The glow of the lamps reflected in his eyes, turning them from green to molten gold.

Before she could begin, Kehan leaned back, his tone suddenly lighter. “Good thing your Zytherion shadow isn’t with you today.”

“Axir?” Freya asked.

He nodded. “Yes. The High Prince himself. Always hovering like an armed escort.”

“He’s not hovering,” she said defensively. “He’s in a strategic meeting with his soldiers right now. But…” her lips curved faintly, “we’re having dinner later.”

Kehan’s teasing smile faltered. His gaze dropped to the ground.

Freya frowned. “Kehan? Are you okay?”

He didn’t answer right away. When he looked up again, his eyes were softer, but heavy. “I don’t know,” he admitted quietly. “But when I heard you say that—about dinner with him—something here…” he pressed a hand over his chest, “hurt.”

Freya blinked. “What?”

He laughed, but it came out strained. “What did you do to me, Freya the human? The moment I saw you, I couldn’t stop looking. I wanted to know everything about you—what makes you smile, what scares you, what your laugh sounds like when it’s real.”

Her pulse spiked.

“I wanted to show you Nimoa,” he continued, voice low and raw. “Take you to the Sky Gardens, to the Northern Falls, everywhere I thought you’d love. But then Axir appeared—and I saw the way you looked at him. And suddenly, I knew I’d already lost.”

Freya’s breath caught. “Kehan…”

He shook his head, forcing a grin that didn’t reach his eyes. “At breakfast that day, when you laughed at my joke—just once—it gave me hope. Pathetic, right? A Nimoan steward hoping for something impossible.”

Her throat tightened. “Kehan, what are you saying?”

“I’m saying I can’t pretend anymore.” His voice deepened, quieter now. “Tell me, Freya. Look at me and say you only love Axir. That there isn’t even a spark—”

“Please don’t,” she whispered, voice trembling.

“—not even a drop of affection for me.”

Freya opened her mouth but no words came out. Her heart thudded painfully in her chest. Say it, she told herself. Say it’s only Axir. Say you don’t feel anything else.

But she couldn’t. The words tangled on her tongue.

“Kehan… I…” she stammered. “I want…”

Why can’t I say it? she thought helplessly. Why can’t I tell him the truth?

Kehan moved closer, so close she could see the faint shimmer of light reflecting on his skin. His voice dropped to a whisper. “Then let me ask differently.”

He leaned in, his breath brushing against her lips.

Her eyes widened, but she didn’t move—not forward, not back. Every part of her screamed confusion, guilt, longing all at once.

When she didn’t pull away, Kehan bridged the tiny gap and kissed her.

The touch was soft at first, hesitant. Then it deepened, growing warm, insistent. A pulse of energy coursed through her, sharp and sweet, like lightning that didn’t burn. It was wrong and right all at once—her heart racing, her hands trembling as she grabbed his face and kissed him back.

For a fleeting moment, time fell away. There was no Core, no war, no prince. Just two people caught in something they couldn’t name.

Then reality slammed back.

Freya gasped, pulling away as if waking from a spell. “Stop! This is—this is not—”

Kehan caught his breath, eyes burning with emotion. “Don’t say it’s wrong.”

Her voice cracked. “I have to. I’m sorry, Kehan.”

He stood abruptly, taking a shaky breath, running a hand through his hair. Then, quieter: “I’ll give you time. Don’t rush. Don’t think about what’s expected. Just… think about what you want, Freya. Not reasons. Not logic. Just what your heart says.”

Freya rose too, stepping back, needing space, needing air.

“Kehan…”

But he didn’t let her finish. His gaze softened again, sadness flickering beneath the charm. “You don’t have to say anything now.”

He turned, walking toward the glass archway. The light from the terrarium lamps haloed around him, painting him in silver and shadow.

Freya stood frozen, hand pressed to her lips, her heart pounding so hard she could feel it in her fingertips.

She wanted to call out, to stop him, to tell him he was wrong. But when she opened her mouth, nothing came out.

Only silence.

And the lingering warmth of a kiss she couldn’t forget.