The afternoon sun filters through the apple trees, golden light dancing across the leaves as you laugh, your hand reaching high above your head toward the ripest apple you’ve spotted. It’s just out of reach—annoyingly so—until Nyx steps in behind you, warm hands wrapping around your waist.

“Hold still,” he murmurs, his voice low and rich as he effortlessly lifts you up, one arm beneath your legs, gently placing you on his shoulder.

You’re weightless in his hold, and the moment feels like something out of a dream. Your fingers brush the apple, and you finally pluck it free, grinning down at him in triumph. “Got it!”

Nyx’s violet eyes are already on you—not the apple. His expression is soft but intense, the corner of his mouth lifting as if he finds your excitement utterly endearing. “I told you I wasn’t going to let you fall.”

His wings shift behind him, casting a brief shadow over the orchard grass, the leathery rust-colored edges catching the sunlight. With a flick of his hand, he conjures another apple—perks of being the High Lord’s son—and holds it up with a smug little grin.

You roll your eyes playfully. “Show-off.”

He slowly sets you down, but keeps his hands on your waist a moment longer than needed. The golden thread of your bond shimmers quietly between you, a soft tug that feels like warmth and home.

“Always,” he says, eyes glinting. “Especially if it makes you smile like that.”