The rain poured harder, drumming against the stone pathways and soaking the flowers in the vast royal garden. The ceremony was still hours away, but the palace was already buzzing with anticipation.
Camilla pulled her shawl tighter, her breath misting in the cool air as she and Xavier hurried toward the nearest shelter.
"There," Xavier said, nodding toward the small pavilion at the far end of the path, its intricate wooden lattice barely visible through the downpour.
They reached it in seconds, the soft scent of wet roses drifting in with them. Camilla stepped inside, brushing the dampness from her sleeves, her pulse still racing—not from the rain, but from the man standing barely two feet away.
Xavier.
The one who had been cold and unreadable since yesterday. The one who, for reasons she couldn't understand, seemed to have locked away whatever fire had burned between them before.
He stood with his back to her, watching the rain, his jaw tight.
There is something about this man she is yet to figure out, something intriguing because she was here for his brother but instead he is the one that caught her attention.
Something in his tone scraped against her chest. She had felt his warmth before—the way he looked at her like she was the only woman in the world. Now he was nothing but ice. And yet…
Her gaze betrayed her. Broad shoulders, the way his dark hair fell damp against his temple, the tension in every line of him.
She stepped forward, her shoes clicking softly on the wooden floor.
"Why are you doing this?"
His eyes flicked to hers. "Doing what?"
"This," she whispered. "Pretending you don't feel it."
The air between them tightened, the sound of the rain fading beneath the pounding of her own heartbeat. Xavier didn't move—didn't even blink. But his gaze dropped to her lips for a fraction of a second before returning to her eyes, darker now.
"You think I don't feel it?" His voice was low, almost dangerous.
"Then why do you push me away?"
"Because wanting you," he said, stepping closer, "is the one thing I can't afford."
She didn't move back. "Then stop trying to be noble."
Something snapped. In the next breath, he closed the space between them, his hand catching her waist and pulling her flush against him. She gasped, her fingers instinctively gripping the front of his tunic.
The kiss wasn't soft—it was fierce, a clash of everything they'd been denying. Heat flared through her veins, her knees weakening as his mouth claimed hers like he'd been starving.
When they broke apart, both breathless, Xavier's forehead rested against hers.
"This is madness," he murmured.
"Then let it be madness," she whispered back.
For a moment, it felt like the rest of the world didn't exist—the rain, the palace, the looming ceremony. Just him. Just her.
But the sound of distant voices broke through the haze. Someone was calling for the guests to gather.
Xavier pulled back, his eyes still burning. "We need to go."
Camilla smoothed her hair, trying to calm the wild beat of her heart. "Right," she said, though her voice trembled.
As they stepped out of the pavilion into the misty garden, she knew one thing for certain—whatever happened at the ceremony, nothing between them would ever be the same again.