I didn’t know.
Jasira leaned in, voice low and full of amusement. “He’s still watching you,” she whispered. “Either he’s planning your execution, or he’s completely bewitched.”
I choked on my tea, coughing hard as I turned a shade that would’ve made an apple proud.
Gideon looked up from his bowl. “Did I miss something? Should I be blushing, too?”
Jasira grinned but said nothing.
I dared a glance at Erindor.
His eyes, no longer shadowed by rage, instead held a quiet, steady flame that ignited a warmth deep within. A warmth that drew me in closer.
…
That night, the dream opened in silence.
I stood barefoot in a field of wildflowers beneath a sky without stars. All around me, the earth glowed faintly, as if lit from within.
A pale-gold fire flickered at the center of it all, breathing slowly and steadily like a heartbeat. There was no smoke. No heat. Only light. It swayed with the rhythm of the wildflowers, casting long shadows over stone and root.
I walked toward it. Every pace became a deliberate, leaden effort, the weight of sudden recognition pressing down with each footfall. As if my body remembered this place, even if my mind did not.
The fire leaned toward me.
I knelt, uncertain. My hand trembled as I reached out.
When my fingers touched the flame, it wrapped around them like silk. It didn’t burn; it welcomed. It pulsed against my skin with purpose, as if it recognized me.
A whisper stirred the air, soft as breath.
“Speak it. And be worthy.”
But I was uncertain of what response to give. My throat closed. I wanted to name something, anything, but the truth lodged behind my ribs.
The wind rose, curling through my hair, through the petals at my feet. The fire flowed into my hands, tracing the lines of my palms, as if reading a story I hadn’t yet written.
And at that moment, I felt—
Seen. Entirely.
Not for who I pretended to be. Not for the girl fumbling through diplomacy or the healer trying not to shake when holding a blade.
But for something buried deeper.
It felt as if the very fabric of the world drew tight, as though it had paused, waiting for me to name what I feared most:that I wanted to matter. To burn bright without breaking.
Until suddenly, I woke with a gasp.
The fire had burned low and the forest was still.
I pressed a trembling hand to my chest. The warmth of my dream lingered beneath my skin.
Like something ancient had stirred.
And it was waiting.
I sat near the edge of the trees, knees drawn to my chest, cloak tugged tight. The others were sleeping, or pretending to be. Even Jasira had left me alone tonight.
