I tip my head and continue tiptoeing over. He holds out a hand, and our fingers link as he helps me straddle his hips. He props the sword against the armrest before his hands land on my waist.

“Why do you think we’re here?” I ask, looking around us. The Torch sits between the thrones, orange flames licking the darkness.

“I’m not sure,” he says. “After saying goodbye to my mother this afternoon, maybe I’m here to say goodbye to this place too.”

Melancholy laces his words as his gaze sweeps over the room.

“This will still be your home,” I say. “No matter what.”

“I know that. But it will be the last time I’m here as the future king of The Aurora.”

My mouth opens, but he presses a finger to my lips.

“Before you say anything, I am not questioning my decision. I’m reflecting on almost three hundred years of my life and the future I expected. But I regret nothing. I thought I was on one path, but I now know that every step I was following was never leading me to this throne or that crown.” He drags a finger down my cheek, pressing it to my lower lip. “It was all leading me to you.”

My hands smooth over the curves of his rounded shoulders as I give him a soft smile. My fingertips continue to explore the ribbons of his tattoos, and I take my time, reveling in the warmth of his hips pressing between my thighs. They flex as a flame curls in my stomach.

“You’ve never told me what these are for,” I say, and he shrugs.

“I got them after the war. I told you once that I’ve always tried to remember what I was fighting for, and these have always been a reminder.”

“Tell me about it?” I ask. “The war. You always retreat inside of yourself every time you mention it. What happened?”

“It’s a story I’ve been too afraid to share with you. I’m worried you’ll look at me differently.”

I shake my head. “I couldn’t. I wouldn’t. Anything you did was a result of the mess my grandmother caused.”

He blows out a breath. “There are many things I’m not proud of, but the one that sits with me the most happened near the end. I’d been captured by Aphelion, where I languished for months. They kept us bound with thin chains of arcturite, rendering us powerless, in addition to providing almost no food or water.”

My fingers dig into his shoulders. “Was this Atlas?”

Nadir’s chin dips. “He oversaw this particular camp, yes. I don’t think it was personal, but I do think he liked the idea of making a fellow prince suffer under his hand. Now I realize he was probably feeling the slight from your grandmother and trying to compensate.”