Echoes of Ice and Iron-Chapter 91: Before the Crown Returns

The knock came just as the morning had settled into comfortable quiet after Bason’s arrival.

Aya and Killan both turned toward the door, while Bason resumed his guarding pose.

It was not the hesitant tap of a servant unsure whether the room was occupied, but the practiced knock of someone who had already been informed of the occupants and their likely state.

Killan rose first.

Aya watched him cross the room, tying the last fastening of his shirt as he went. The King of the South had returned to something resembling his usual composure, though his hair still held the faint disorder of sleep and the morning light had softened the sternness she was accustomed to seeing in court.

He opened the door.

Two maids stood outside with a breakfast tray balanced between them.

They curtsied immediately when they saw him.

"Your Grace."

Killan stepped aside to allow them in.

Aya had already drawn her clothes more comfortably around herself and stood up to accept the maids’ greetings, though the faint color still lingering in her cheeks suggested she had not entirely recovered from the morning’s teasing.

The maids moved quietly around the chamber, placing the tray on the table near the hearth. Fresh bread, fruit, and steaming cups of tea quickly filled the room with the warm scent of breakfast.

One of them hesitated slightly before speaking.

"We were to assist Lady Aya with her preparations this morning."

Killan shook his head lightly.

"Thank you. But after breakfast," he said calmly, "I will help Lady Aya with her preparations."

Both maids froze.

For a brief moment, the room held an awkward stillness.

A king fussing over a queen after relations - or even the suggestion of it - was something rarely spoken of in any court. Among nobles, such matters were either handled discreetly by servants or ignored entirely. Kings did not braid their wives’ hair, did not help them dress, did not personally concern themselves with the quiet aftermath of a night spent together.

Not in the East.

Not in the South.

Not in the North.

Not anywhere really.

Perhaps among ordinary couples, such things were common enough, but rulers lived by different expectations. Even many of the lords whom they serve would not bother with such attentiveness. A husband might share a bed with his wife, but the duties of comfort and preparation belonged to maids, attendants, and ladies-in-waiting.

Certainly not to a reigning king.

The two maids exchanged the briefest glance. Then they looked back at Killan. Their expressions remained admirably neutral - Peduviel’s servants were well-trained - but the faint confusion in their eyes was difficult to hide.

"Yes, Your Grace," one of them said carefully.

Neither of them asked further questions.

Kings were not usually the ones making such requests.

But then again, few queens were quite like Lady Aya of the North.

And fewer kings behaved the way Killan Valmird had just done.

Neither asked further questions. They simply bowed again and finished arranging the table before quietly leaving the chamber.

The door closed behind them.

Aya watched the entire exchange with open amusement.

When Killan returned to Aya’s side to guide her to the table, she tilted her head slightly.

"Was that wise, Killan?"

He poured tea into two cups before answering.

"It is the least I could do."

Aya accepted the cup he offered her.

"For what exactly?"

Killan took his own seat across from her.

"For what I put you through last night."

Aya nearly choked on the tea. The color returned to her cheeks immediately.

"That was unnecessary to say aloud."

Killan lifted a brow.

"Was it inaccurate?"

Aya stared at him over the rim of her cup. Then she shook her head with a quiet sigh, conceding the point.

"You are entirely insufferable this morning."

Killan smiled faintly. "I believe you encouraged that behavior."

Aya set the cup down and reached for a piece of bread instead, clearly deciding it was safer to focus on breakfast than on continuing that particular line of conversation.

They ate quietly for a few moments.

Outside the chamber, the palace had begun to stir more fully, footsteps and voices drifting faintly through the hallways as Peduviel prepared for another day of celebration.

Aya finished her tea and glanced toward the window.

"The engagement ceremonies continue today."

Killan nodded. "Yes."

She looked back at him. "I imagine half the court will be watching us."

Killan shrugged slightly. "They already were, but I suppose things would be a little different with our own people."

Aya considered that. "That is true."

He rose after finishing the last of his meal and extended a hand toward her.

Aya placed her hand in his and allowed him to help her stand, though the moment she shifted fully upright, she felt the faint stiffness in her body again. She tried not to show it, but Killan noticed immediately.

His hand tightened slightly around hers.

"Slowly," he said.

Aya gave him a look.

"I am not wounded."

"No," he replied calmly. "But you are not entirely comfortable either."

She did not argue.

The chamber’s adjoining bathing room had already been prepared by him earlier that morning. Steam curled faintly from the basin where warm water waited, the scent of herbs rising gently in the air.

Aya stepped toward it while Killan gathered the fresh linen the maids had left behind.

For a moment, she hesitated. Then she looked back at him.

"You are truly intending to do this yourself."

Killan met her gaze evenly. "I said I would."

Aya exhaled softly, somewhere between amusement and surrender.

"Well," she said, loosening the thin garment she had wrapped around herself, "I suppose you have already seen enough to make modesty somewhat irrelevant."

Killan’s mouth curved faintly, though he said nothing.

The clothing slipped from her shoulders, and he turned away just long enough to dip a cloth into the basin, wringing it gently before handing it to her. They moved through the quiet ritual of washing without the hurried efficiency of soldiers preparing for battle. Instead, there was an unexpected calm to it.

Killan worked carefully, rinsing the cloth and handing it back when needed, occasionally brushing damp strands of Aya’s hair away from her face. His touch remained steady and unhurried, though each accidental brush of skin seemed to draw a small reaction from her that she could not entirely suppress.

Aya noticed it herself.

The first time his fingers slid briefly along her shoulder as he helped rinse away the soap, she stiffened almost imperceptibly.

Killan saw it.

The second time, when he steadied her arm while she stepped out of the basin, the faint breath she drew did not escape him either.

Aya flushed slightly and looked away.

"You are doing that on purpose," she said.

"I am helping you bathe."

"That is not what I meant."

Killan handed her a dry cloth. His expression was composed, but his eyes held quiet amusement.

"You are simply... reacting."

Aya frowned at him. "I am not."

Killan said nothing, though the corner of his mouth betrayed him.

Once she had dried and wrapped herself in fresh linen, he helped fasten the light gown chosen for the day’s ceremonies. The fabric fell in soft folds of silver and pale blue, the colors of her house catching the sunlight as it filtered through the windows.

How I would love to see my House colors on you again...

He smiled lightly at her.

Aya sat before the mirror while Killan finished securing the ties along the back of the gown.

His fingers moved with careful precision.

Once.

Twice.

The third time, when his knuckles brushed lightly along the bare skin at the back of her neck, Aya drew a sharp breath before she could stop herself.

Killan paused.

Their eyes met in the mirror.

"You see?" he said quietly.

Aya pressed her lips together. "That was unexpected."

Killan leaned slightly closer as he finished tying the last fastening.

"You have to make sure I’m the only one who sees you this way, my Lady."

Aya blinked at him. The quiet seriousness in his voice caught her off guard.

For a moment, neither of them moved.

Then Killan’s restraint faltered. His hand slid from the tie at the back of her gown to her waist, turning her gently until she faced him fully. Aya barely had time to register the movement before he leaned down and kissed her.

Not the quiet, careful kisses of the night before.

This one was deeper, fiercer with the restraint he had been holding all morning. Aya felt the sudden shift immediately, the warmth that had been simmering beneath their polite composure rising again far too easily.

Her hands came up instinctively, gripping the front of his shirt as she leaned into the kiss.

Killan pulled back first.

Not because he wanted to.

Because he had to.

He rested his forehead briefly against hers, exhaling slowly as though steadying himself.

"This," he murmured, his voice rougher than before, "is exactly why we should not start this again right now."

Aya looked up at him, still flushed. "I wasn’t aware we had stopped."

Killan huffed a quiet laugh, though his hand remained at her waist.

"If circumstances were different," he said softly, brushing a loose strand of hair from her face, "if we were back in Athax instead of preparing to face three courts and your entire family..."

His thumb traced lightly along the edge of her jaw.

"I probably would not let you leave your room for days."

Aya’s breath caught slightly.

Killan noticed, which was precisely why he stepped back.

"You’re going to have to control whatever you’re feeling at the moment, Aya," he said calmly, though the faint tension still lingered in his voice.

Aya narrowed her eyes at him.

"You say that as though this is entirely my fault."

Killan gave her a knowing look. "It is not helping."

Aya opened her mouth to argue, then stopped.

Because he was right.

The warmth that had settled beneath her skin since the morning had not faded in the slightest.

Killan watched the realization cross her face.

"Exactly," he said quietly.

She sighed and looked away.

"This is extremely inconvenient timing." 𝚏𝗿𝗲𝐞𝚠𝕖𝐛𝗻𝗼𝐯𝕖𝚕.𝚌𝗼𝗺

"Yes."

Another moment passed between them.

Then Killan stepped back and reached for the comb.

He gathered her dark hair again, smoothing it carefully before braiding it into the usual loose style she had been wearing these past few days. His movements were steady and surprisingly gentle for a man more accustomed to swords than ribbons.

Aya watched his reflection in the mirror.

"You are enjoying this," she accused.

Killan’s mouth curved faintly. "Immensely."

Aya tilted her head. "Really...?"

Killan finished the braid and stepped back to examine his work.

"It was meant as praise. I do love your reactions, every single one. But just save them for me, Aya."

Aya considered that, then she smiled faintly.

When everything was finally in place, Killan extended his hand again.

"Shall we return to being respectable rulers?"

Aya placed her hand in his and allowed him to help her stand.

"Sounds exhausting, Your Grace."

Killan’s mouth curved faintly.

"It usually is."

The quiet warmth of the morning faded gradually as the responsibilities of the day returned. Within the hour, the Lady of the North and the King of the South would once again step into the golden halls of Peduviel - composed, regal, and very much aware that the eyes of three kingdoms were watching.

But the quiet understanding between them lingered.

And neither of them seemed inclined to restore the distance that had once stood there.