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“Let’s hope the King agrees.”

By the time Thalia finally led me through the last set of doors, my nerves had returned in full force.

The corridors had seemed endless, twisting through towers and galleries lined with towering windows and ancient paintings whose subjects watched silently as we passed. Every step had brought me closer to Atlas, and despite everything we had survived to reach this moment, I suddenly found myself wondering whether I should have chosen a different dress. Whether I should have let Thalia brush my hair. Whether I looked ridiculous. Whether it was all too much or not enough.

The thoughts were absurd, especially after everything that had happened, yet they clung stubbornly to me all the same. Then the doors opened, and the strength of my thoughts flared even brighter. As now there was Atlas, standing alone beside the long table dominating the center of the circular room, and for a moment I could only stare.

At some point, while I was bathing and trying not to strangle myself with ribbons, he had managed to clean himself up as well. Gone were the bloodstained armor and signs of battle that had clung to him since I arrived in Theïkós. In their place, he wore a fitted black tunic embroidered with silver thread that caught the light whenever he moved. The intricate patterns climbed across the cuffs and collar like twisting vines. A dark, tailored coat fell to his knees, its silver fastenings gleaming softly against the fabric, while the crest of Theïkós had been stitched onto one shoulder with such understated craftsmanship that it somehow made him look even more powerful.

The clothes themselves weren’t particularly extravagant. There were no crowns or jewels, no obvious displays of wealth or status. Yet somehow that only made the effect more intimidating.

Because standing there amongst the towering bookshelves and painted constellations, Atlas looked every inch the king.

Not the warrior or general who had once hunted me in my own world. Nor the man who had held me while I cried. Not the man who had kissed my forehead and promised he wouldn’t be gone long.

This was the ruler of Theïkós.

The man armies followed into battle.

The man an entire kingdom looked to for protection. And suddenly, despite everything we had survived together, I felt strangely intimidated.

Perhaps it was the castle.

Perhaps it was the kingdom.

Or perhaps it was simply because being here made Atlas look more like the king, I knew him to be. Back in my world, it had only ever been a title spoken, but here it came with a castle and a throne, and grand guest rooms filled with princess dresses.

The thoughts were absurd, especially after everything that had happened, yet they clung stubbornly to me all the same.

He must have heard us enter because he turned immediately, and the moment his eyes landed on me, he froze.

For a few seconds, neither of us spoke.

His gaze travelled slowly over me, taking in the dress, my hair, and the fact that I was no longer covered in dirt, ash, and blood. The intensity of it made warmth creep into my cheeks almost immediately. I suddenly felt painfully aware of every inch of unfamiliar fabric wrapped around me.

I shifted awkwardly beneath his stare and glanced down at the skirt gathered nervously between my fingers.

“Say something.”

The whispered words slipped out before I could stop them, yet Atlas remained silent as if he was incapable of speaking. My embarrassment deepened, and my insecurities doubled.

“I know it’s silly,” I muttered, tugging at the fabric. “It’s not exactly fatigues and combat boots.”

The moment the words left my mouth, something changed in his expression. Then, a heartbeat later, he was moving.

One second, he stood on the opposite side of the room. The next, he was standing directly in front of me, crossing the distance so quickly that my breath caught in my throat. One hand immediately buried itself in my hair while the other rose to cradle the side of my neck, careful of the wound there. His touch was impossibly gentle, yet there was nothing gentle about the look in his eyes as he tilted my face upward.

The way it burned into me like a heated flame made my pulse stumble.

“Atlas...”

His jaw tightened.

“You’re so fucking beautiful.” The growled words unraveled something inside me. But before I could think of a response, before I could find a clever remark to hide behind, his mouth crashed against mine.

All those days of separation vanished in an instant.

Endless hours of wondering whether we would ever find our way back to each other. Every second of it seemed to pour into that kiss.