Calm

Summary: Raydan needs to rest before the approaching battle, but there’s no reason Kenna can’t join him. Set before the final battle with Azura.)

“Now, I’m afraid I must go and rest if I’m to be any use tomorrow.” Raydan smiles apologetically and takes Kenna’s hand in his, lifting it to his mouth for a farewell kiss.

“I understand.” She should let him leave, especially when she still remembers the fear that had struck her when his exhaustion had caused him to collapse the night before, but that same fear is strumming through her again and instead, her fingers tighten around his. She’s not ready to say goodnight to anyone because that means the evening is over and the battle is here and no one has ever frightened her the way Azura does. “Perhaps you could rest in my bed? I’m certain it’s more comfortable than the cot you’ve been using, and I’ve heard rumours it comes with better company.”

“As tempting as that sounds,” he says, a soft and private smile on his face, “I’m not sure how much rest I’ll be getting if I take that offer.”

“I’ll let you rest.”

She doesn’t say anything, nothing about how the night before and the dawn coming have her shaken and anxious and needing him, but one searching look and she’s sure he knows.

He nods, turns her hand to press a kiss to her palm, something more intimate and personal than they usually allow in front of so many important others – not that they’ve always been so good at refraining from affection – and bids her a second farewell.

The party continues for a few more hours. Kenna dances with Dom, sips mead with Val and lets Annelyse lead her and Tevan in an energetic waltz neither of them knows the steps too.

She’s one of the first to leave, even though it takes her a while to circle the hall and wish luck to all the others, but her room is far enough away from the hall not to hear the music that’s still playing.

The sight of Raydan in her bed makes her smile. He’s settled on the side nearest the door and she closes the door behind her as quietly as she can before undressing and slipping into bed beside him. He’s a light sleeper and the slight movement is enough to stir him. He turns towards her, his eyes barely open but his body tense and alert. It only takes whispered apology and her fingers running through his hair for him to relax again, his breath slowing slightly as he falls back into sleep.

Sleep might have come easily to Raydan but it eludes Kenna. She sits in bed, back resting against the headboard and thinks. She’s grown skilled at reassuring and inspiring speeches, but they never really work on her, and left to her own thoughts, all she can do is dwell on what’s coming.

She’s fought more battles than she ever would have liked, but this is the first one that feels truly impossible.

A spear of lightning through the sky calls her to the window and she looks out towards the sea, towards Azura. She hadn’t realised all those years ago, but this was what everything had been building to. This was why her mother had tried so hard to unite the five kingdoms, so they would be strong against the Iron Empire, and she had lost her life trying. Kenna’s already given so much of herself to do the same, and despite the confidence she’d displayed before her friends and allies, she has to wonder if tomorrow will be the day she finally gives everything.

How can she expect to sleep when there’s a tempest of fear inside her?

She looks away from the window only when she hears her name and she turns to see Raydan padding towards her, his footsteps louder than he’d allow around anyone else. “Can’t sleep?”

“Not from lack of trying.”

He finally reaches her, his arms going around her waist and gently pulling her back so she’s leaning against him. “Whatever happens tomorrow, Kenna, we’ve done everything possible to prepare,” he tells her, bowing his head to press a kiss to her shoulder. “Everyone in this castle is willing to stand for you and for the five kingdoms. The most important thing for you to do now is to sleep.”

She sighs and slides her hands down his forearms, laces their fingers together. “I love you.”

His smile can be felt against her shoulder, his lips still lingering where he’d kissed her before. “I love you too.” His embrace loosens and he turns her in his arms, keeps one hand linked with hers as he starts to lead her back towards the bed. “And I’d rather not risk losing you tomorrow because you didn’t have enough sleep. Adder told me you didn’t sleep at all last night. Tonight doesn’t have to be the same.”

“Raydan,” she says, shaking her head at him, “it’s not that easy. I’m not tired.”

He sits on the side of the bed, but she remains standing, even as he reaches out to stroke her cheek, thumb tracing the circles beneath her eyes. “You look tired.”

Kenna doesn’t answer. She shifts closer, to stand between his legs, and leans down to rest her forehead on his, her hands gently cupping his face. She doesn’t kiss him. Instead, she closes her eyes and lets her world narrow, just for a moment, to only him. She feels settled, relaxed, when all there is is the two of them, as though he’s her moment of calm amid all the thunder and lightning of what’s coming.

“Are you still tired?”

“I am,” he admits. “But what sort of devoted subject would I be if I weren’t willing to help my Queen?” He kisses her, her lips first, then her neck, then a trail down to her collarbone. “And trust me, my lady, I am very devoted.”

He lies back on the mattress, pulling Kenna with him, and then they’re kissing. It’s a good kiss – he buries his hands in her hair, she bites at his lip, breathes him – and her heart thunders Raydan, Raydan, Raydan with every beat. She nips at the skin just behind his ear, brands him with long, sucking kisses down his neck, charts the courses of his scars with her fingers and her lips, and he jolts below her when her fingers dip even lower, brushing against him teasingly before returning up his chest.

He rolls them so he’s above her, his hands stroking up her thigh, nudging her nightgown up and off, and then his lips mark a path down her body, between her breasts, down her stomach, to her inner thigh. Her whole body feels tight, wanting, and when his mouth is finally between her legs, all she can is tremble and clutch at him, her breath quickening until she comes apart.

Raydan sits back, a smug grin on his face as he looks down at her, breathless and flushed beneath him. She gazes at him, at his wet lips, at his hair knotted by her hands, at the thin white lines that decorate his chest. He’s always handsome, but especially here in her bed, lit only by moonlight and touched only by her.

When he kisses her, she can taste herself on his lips.

She breathes his name when he’s finally, finally, inside her. They rock together – it’s slow, almost sleepy, but the build of tension inside her is even better when it’s so unhurried. She combs her fingers through his hair, sucks on his bottom lip, shudders against him when he slips his hand between them, between her legs, the light strokes and small circles drawn by his fingers bringing her closer and closer to the edge and when she comes again, she mouths drowsily at his lips, only a few of the kisses meeting their mark.

Raydan moves his weight off her and she relaxes against his side, his arm around her and holding her close. They both need a few minutes to catch their breath, but they don’t let their breathlessness stop them from exchanging small kisses and soft caresses and sweet whispers. He’s hers, only hers, he tells her and in the quiet of their room, she lets herself tell him the same.

(She can never be only his, not when she belongs to her kingdom, but in the moonlight, between the claps of thunder, when the rest of the world is sleeping, she can give him everything that’s left of her.)

They separate only so that they can get into bed, and maybe the storm of battle is swelling around them, but under the sheets with Raydan’s arms around her, it feels like she’s found shelter. For the first time in days, it’s easy to let her eyes grow tired and start to drift shut.

“Raydan?” she whispers, just before sleep claims her. He hums in acknowledgement. “Thank you. As much as I want to believe we’ll win tomorrow, I wouldn’t have wanted to spend tonight apart when there’s a chance we won’t get another night to share.”

“If we win tomorrow,” he says slowly, words slurred slightly by sleep, “we’ll share every night.”