Chapter 28

T he new royal couple spent their so-called honeymoon in the war council, listening to updates on the K?str?ls’ movements throughout the region.

They ate their midday meal with the joint Katánian and Ilki combat commanders as they discussed troop maneuvers and battle lines.

The air between them was filled with unspoken desires and uncertainties.

It lingered throughout the day until their second night together when Kaxim lay beside his wife.

He was unused to the term, still getting comfortable with the presence of a woman when he slept.

He shifted, his every limb stiff and tense as he fought against the pull of attraction that threatened to overwhelm his defenses.

He lurched when Liana reached out to him, her hand resting on his shoulder, offering comfort without pressure.

Kaxim’s breath hitched at the contact, his resolve wavering as he rotated to face her.

Full of kindness and understanding, her eyes searched him, and his heart clenched with a longing he hadn’t expected.

But he couldn’t give in—not yet. Not when he was unsure where this union would lead them.

So, in concession, he brushed her arm and pulled back.

Her lip twisted, and she gave him a wan smile, shifted, and turned her back on him.

Her shutdown hit like a slap in the face.

Fokk, he deserved it.

As the night wore on, Kaxim found himself inching closer to Liana, drawn to her warmth like a moth to a flame.

He wanted to touch her, pull her close, and immerse in her embrace, but he held back, afraid of what that might mean.

Instead, he settled for watching her as she drifted to sleep, her breathing subdued and even.

In the quiet darkness of the tent, the stoic warrior wrestled with his soul, torn between duty and desire. He had never expected to care for his new wife. But now, as he lay beside her, he couldn’t deny the depth forming—feelings that both frightened and intrigued him.

In the following days, Liana settled into her side of the k?lajan , adding small touches of warmth and comfort—a soft rug, a potted plant, and a few cushions.

She followed her usual routines with a quiet grace that began to wear down Kaxim’s initial irritation.

He mulled over her quirky personality, which included meticulous self-care rituals and taking her time with every meal.

She was also kind and thoughtful, tidying up after him without complaint.

Regardless, Kaxim’s discomfort was palpable.

The forced marriage was an encroachment into the controlled world he had built around himself, and he resented it with intensity.

His interactions with her were brusque and often laced with exasperation.

He had never shared his living space with anyone, and the sudden intrusion of her softness and warmth grated on him.

He would scowl as she added little touches to the tent—a cushion here, a vase of flowers there—things he deemed frivolous and unnecessary. ‘This isn’t a palace,’ he would mutter under his breath, his tone full of disdain. ‘It’s a war camp. We don’t need decorations.’

She ignored his grumpiness with a shrug.

At meals, Kaxim ate with the same efficiency that defined the rest of his life. He would sit at the rough wooden table, his movements precise as he tore into the simple, hearty fare.

He preferred plain, unseasoned meat, bread, and a bit of ale. His knife would slice through his food with quick, decisive motions, and he would eat in silence, his focus glowering on the task at hand.

If Liana tried to engage him in conversation during these dinners, he responded with little more than a grunt, his concentration never wavering from his plate.

He justified his behavior, telling himself that his interactions with his soldiers were similar.

Kaxim was not a man of many words; when he spoke, it was to give orders or deliver a stern reprimand.

He maintained a strict distance from his men, believing familiarity bred weakness. His ranks had no room for friendship or camaraderie—only discipline and obedience.

When he walked through the camp, his presence commanded respect. Troops would snap to attention.

Their eyes averted, knowing better than to cross him. Kaxim’s gaze would sweep over them, cold and calculating, as if he were assessing their worth with each step he took.

In managing his affairs, Kaxim was methodical to the point of obsession.

Every aspect of his life was organized and controlled, from the placement of his weapons to the meticulous records he kept of supplies and troop movements.

He would spend hours poring over maps and reports, his brow furrowed in concentration.

His tent lacked personal touches—just the bare essentials, all systematized with military precision. The idea of sharing this space, of having someone else’s belongings mixed with his own, was anathema to him.

He often glared at the corner of their quarters where Liana’s things lay flung on a chair or haphazardly on the dresser as waves of aggravation hit him.

Despite his gruff exterior, there was a complexity to Kaxim that few ever witnessed.

His vexation at Liana’s presence was less about the intrusion into his territory and more about how she challenged the fortified walls he had built around himself.

Her warmth and kindness were foreign to him, and they stirred feelings he had long buried beneath layers of discipline and duty.

This confused and angered him, leading to even more brusque behavior.

Their soul bond tightened, and the connection lit him up at the most inopportune moments. It caused him grief even as his cock hardened rock solid every time her presence flitted across his mind.

In person, it was even more torturous.

Once, she’d smiled at him—just a tiny, quiet smile—and it had been enough to jolt him, causing him to seep.

He had growled and turned away, leaving her in the tent with a look of hurt still lingering in his thoughts.

He hated himself for that moment, for letting the khamana affect him so profoundly that he couldn’t even offer her kindness.

‘Damn it,’ he muttered under his breath, the sound just audible over the camp’s noise.

His frustration boiled over, and he felt anger and resentment for this bond he couldn’t break. He had tried everything, even ancient rituals meant to sever such connections, but nothing worked.

It was as if the universe had decided that he and Liana were bound together, whether he liked it or not.

As they lay in the same bed at night, Kaxim would struggle with the unfamiliar proximity. He reclined in an unyielding posture on his side, as far from her as the small space would allow, his mind racing with thoughts he couldn’t quite grasp.

The softness of her breath, the warmth of her body beside him—it all unnerved him in ways he couldn’t understand.

Despite his best efforts to remain detached, he was enticed by her. He studied her as she slept, wondering what it was about her that made him feel so off-balance.

Was it her beauty, grace, laugh, or sweet nature?

Fokk! It was all of it and more.

She was affecting, distracting, and upending his shit.