Chapter 108
In all that time, words this foolish had never passed between them. Sometimes, even something not so clumsy becomes awkward when spoken aloud. Clumsy things only become clumsier.
But at that trivial confession, the man could only stare at her in astonishment. For a moment, he didn’t bother to hide the way his gaze wavered.
Strangely enough, it was a first: for her to say she had done something for him; for her to voice aloud that simple, longstanding truth. Pherenike knew he would be moved—if only a little—like any foolish man might be, no matter how rough their reality.
“…You matter more to me than any of them, Kybellaune.”
“…”
“You need only ever think of yourself. For you to do that, that is what matters most to me.”
He spoke slowly, as if he didn’t want to get a single word wrong. The sincerity in his words scraped at something mocking in her chest.
Pherenike, who had been watching him in silence, reached out on a sudden impulse and pulled his hand toward her. Her slender fingers brushed over the thick joints of his, tracing the length of his palm.
When she reached his wrist, he seemed utterly powerless. Almost as if he was a man bowing his head to an enemy while secretly plotting. He let himself be drawn to her feet.
The cold mask of the king’s face broke open under her attention. Pherenike slowly bent her head over him, and for the first time, she kissed him.
Their lips met only briefly. She gave his motionless lower lip the gentlest of bites, and Actor drew in a slow, shuddering breath. As if sometimes endurance itself was the only thing left.
But his patience didn’t last long. The moment their lips parted, Actor let out a rough, unsteady breath and chased after her lips again. It was almost wild, as if he would force her mouth open and claim her with all his ferocity, but all he did was swallow her lips whole. He didn’t force his way into her mouth as he sometimes did.
Actor nibbled gently at her upper lip, then softly bit the lower one. The kiss lingered, his lips pressing against the corners of her mouth, tilting his head to capture her entirely, but that was all.
The young king’s large hands braced themselves on either side of the seat, not on the nape of her neck or in her hair, drawing her closer. Pherenike was trapped between his arms, but their only point of contact was their lips. Only lips touching lips, nothing more.
The hand that had pulled the king to her feet climbed up his forearm to rest on his broad shoulder. She traced the line of his collarbone with her thumb. The skin beneath her touch trembled, like he was a boy reaching out to the girl he loved for the very first time.
“…It feels like you’re soothing a wild beast.”
He spoke as their lips parted.
“You’re angry.”
Pherenike replied softly and he let out a brief laugh.
“Are you always this gentle to angry men?”
“Are there times when anger is a good thing?”
“You’re not even afraid of ordinary men.”
“You’re not an ordinary man to me.”
“….”
That simple reply, for a moment, made him someone singular. Someone different from all other men.
Of course, Actor Nikandros was unlike any other man. Even if he was the sovereign of Evdokia, even as the consort of Kybellaune, what he truly longed for had nothing to do with his station or bloodline.
The truth was in the end, Actor Nikandros was a rather ordinary man. That had always been his greatest flaw. Pherenike gazed down at him with a faint sense of pity, an unfamiliar compassion.
“…I know I was angry with you, but I seem to have forgotten why.”
Beneath the dark fringe of his hair, his eyes were downcast, voice tinged with self-mockery.
“In fact, ever since I heard from the attendant that you’d gone to the infirmary for Agilon…”
“…”
“I can’t remember what I was doing before that.”
“Actor.”
She called his name, and his gaze lifted. His gray-blue eyes reflected her like a still lake.
“Do I cloud your sight?”
“Ah.”
“Like some wretched woman who brings ruin to men.”
He gave a faint smile at her teasing words.
“If it’s you, I wouldn’t mind. But it’s not that.”
“Didn’t you just say I make you foolish?”
“I’m the fool. You haven’t done anything to me.”
“…”
“Downfall always belongs to the one who falls.”
Their eyes met up close. The tips of their noses touched. Their breath mingled in the air between them.
“Pherenike, you don’t cloud my vision. You make it dazzlingly bright.”
“…”
“The light is so blinding, there’s less I can see each day. So if anything, the pitiful one here isn’t you—it’s me.”
He knew, of course, that if he simply turned away from the light, he might see more in the darkness.
But in the end, he could not bring himself to look away.
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