Southton was finally his again. Kudaj reveled in their victory. Their troops came in and had taken back what was stolen in just a couple of days, and their gains couldn’t have been sweeter. The sensation was as pleasurable as strong alcohol or a good meal. They cheered, shouted, sang, and danced around campfires while they enjoyed fine foods their grateful citizens prepared for them, and parties with feasts were hosted in every town and city that was once laid under seize by the empire.

  “Cheers to Prince Kudaj, Sovereign Liberator Apparent!” They shouted with raised mugs of ale, whiskey, and whatever other drinks the townsfolk brought them. Even the chirping insects and nighttime creatures seemed to celebrate with them. Music played from local practitioners, and stories were told by the soldiers to swoon whoever they’d set their sights on.

  For Kudaj, though, he didn’t care too much for romance. At least, he liked to believe that. His heart was sealed up, locked away until he saw the empire burn for taking from him what he longed for most; the company of his lost sister. A company he would never get the chance to enjoy in this life.

  “Your Highness,” said a certain soldier as she casually made her way over to him. She was beautiful, and a true Songrivan through-and-through. Her scarlet hair glistened in the moonlight and in the light of the campfire, and he wasn’t too drunk to appreciate the silhouette of her figure against the fire behind her. She’d taken her armor off and settled into something more comfortable, as most of them did.

  “Commander Jürdae,” he responded gently.

  Though shadow cloaked her face, he could sense the smile underneath. “You’re not sitting with the others. I figured I’d check on you.” She cooed softly. He could hear the worry in her voice, and it was justified. They’d been friends for many years, and she’d gotten to know him quite well. She also knew how the family-line of the Sovereign was preserved, and she was not of noble birth. She kept herself humble with the special privilege she was given with him, never asking too much or taking advantage of their close friendship. She always kept herself from flirting with him in any way.

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  …Until that night.

  “There’s much to contemplate, Jürdae. Even the whiskey is having a hard time getting through to me,” he admitted. She took another step closer to him. He could almost make out her crimson eyes behind the shadows of the evening. He could smell her perfume, a curious thing for a soldier to bring with her to a warfront.

  “That’s a fascinating scent you wear,” he said. She smirked.

  “One of the town’s girls let me wear a couple sprays. I figured it’d be nice to not smell like sweat and dirt at the end of the day while we’re all celebrating,” she said, getting a little closer to him. Perhaps he did have room for romance in his life. Perhaps he could open up a little more to someone who was already so close to him. Perhaps he didn’t care about family purity and other nonsense that his father prided himself with. There was certainly a time for traditions to be broken, and why couldn’t it have been him?

  So he took his chance and tossed his family tradition to the wind. He forgot about the burning anger he held in his heart for a moment, the pain of losing his sister, and he embraced the comfort this woman seemed to offer him in that moment.

  “It smells beautiful,” he started, gentle sliding his hand to the small of her back. He could tell she was flustered and taken a bit by surprise, but he could also tell that she wanted his touch. His heart began to beat a little harder when he felt the sensation of her body pressed against his, only the cloth of their tunics separating their skin. “It’s a fitting compliment to a woman so beautiful,” he added.

  “My prince,” she stammered. Then, in a whisper into his ear, she said, “Are you sure this is what you want? Won’t your family have something to say?”

  He didn’t answer her with a word, but with a kiss.

  Passionate.

  Longing.

  Encapsulating.

  He felt numb from pleasure, and he could tell she did too. “To Hell with what my family has to say, Jürdae,” he said softly. She pulled away, but didn’t let go of his hand as she led him away from the celebration. Far enough away, they embraced their romance with gentleness and passion, and drank deep of each other’s love long into the night. As long as they were able, in the comfort of his personal tent, they carried a newfound desire and craving that intoxicated them with such heightened bliss…

  And his dreams were filled with the sounds of her voice, as hers were with his…