Chapter 30: The Night Before War

Peace was an illusion.

Even here, in the relative quiet of Haven’s Rest, I could feel the war breathing down my neck. It lurked just beyond the stars, waiting for us to step back onto the battlefield.

But for one night, I let myself forget.

Or at least, I tried.

I sat alone in my quarters, a half-finished glass of Narn firewine on the table before me. The room was dimly lit, the glow of the distant stars filtering through the viewport. I should have been reviewing battle plans, strategizing for the next engagement.

Instead, my mind was stuck on her.

Ny’Vara.

The way her lips had felt against mine. The fire in her touch. The intensity in her golden eyes.

I had fought in battles that felt less dangerous than the emotions stirring inside me.

A soft chime at my door pulled me from my thoughts.

I frowned. “Enter.”

The door slid open, and Ny’Vara stepped inside.

She wasn’t in her combat gear. Instead, she wore a simple Narn tunic, sleeveless, fitted enough to highlight the toned muscles of her arms and shoulders. Her usual warrior’s presence was still there, but there was something different about her tonight—something softer.

I stood, setting my glass aside. “Didn’t expect to see you again so soon.”

She smirked. “Neither did I.”

She took a step forward, and suddenly the space between us felt much smaller.

“I meant what I said earlier,” she continued. “This war won’t stop for us.”

I nodded, watching her carefully. “I know.”

She hesitated—just for a second—before exhaling sharply. “Then maybe we should take what time we have. Before it’s gone.”

I barely had time to register her words before she closed the distance.

Her hands gripped the front of my uniform, pulling me toward her. I caught her waist, steadying both of us as her lips met mine.

It was different this time.

Less fire, more desperation.

A need to hold on to something real, something alive, in the face of the chaos that threatened to consume us both.

I pulled her closer, deepening the kiss, feeling her warmth, her strength, the steady rhythm of her heartbeat against mine. For a moment, the war, the battles, the enemies waiting in the darkness—none of it mattered.

There was only this.

Only her.

When we finally parted, she rested her forehead against mine, her breath warm against my skin.

“This doesn’t change anything,” she murmured.

I smirked. “Are you trying to convince me, or yourself?”

She huffed a quiet laugh. “Both.”

I traced my fingers along her arm, feeling the scars there—marks of battles fought, of losses endured. “Then let’s stop thinking for one night.”

She looked up at me, searching my face for something. Whatever she found, it was enough.

She kissed me again.

And for one night, we weren’t warriors.

We were just two people, stealing a moment in the calm before the storm.