“You’re a coward,” she spits.
The accusation hits harder than any of Vanya’s.
I don’t argue. Just stand there, letting her hate me. Better her fury than her love. Fury she’ll recover from. Loving me… that might ruin her.
Energy crackles between us, her heat conflicting against the cold emptiness spreading through my chest.
“I thought you were different. Thought you saw me as more than—” Her voice breaks, the fire in her eyes doused by tears. “I was wrong.”
She turns and leaves, slamming the door behind her with enough force to crack the frame. The scent of smoke and heartbreak lingers in her wake.
I sink back onto the bed. The sheets still smell like her. My hands shake; rage at myself, at Vanya, at the situation. Scales ripple fully across my skin now, control abandoned in the privacy of my quarters. The dragon half of me howls at the separation, demanding I go after her, claim what belongs to me.
But underneath the dragon’s rage: resignation.
Because Vanya was right.
I did fail Mara. I did expose Ember’s secret. I did take advantage when she was vulnerable. And I’ll fail her again if this continues.
But that doesn’t change what’s going on in my heart now.
I just destroyed the best thing that’s ever happened to me.
For her own good.
And it still feels like the wrong choice.
Chapter 32
Ember
The trip to my quarters feels like it lasted an eternity, and now the door closes behind me with a finality that echoes through my body. I stand frozen for several heartbeats before my legs give out and I sink onto the edge of my bed. The mattress dips beneath my weight, but I barely notice, too numb to feel anything but the hollow space expanding in my chest.
He just… gave up.
My fingers twist in the sheets, gripping until my knuckles turn white. Heat builds behind my eyes, behind my skin, pulsing beneath my sternum like a second heartbeat. A wisp of smoke curls from between my clenched fingers where they’ve started to scorch the cotton.
I stand abruptly, pacing to disperse the energy before I burn something I can’t replace. Like me, the fire always rises when emotions run high. When I’m breaking.
And now, I’m breaking.
I stood up to my mother. Risked my life in the Carpathians. Brought back intelligence that will save lives.
And he can’t even stand up for us.
Oh God, Luke. Why?
The hurt twists, transforms into something sharper, cleaner. Anger rushes through me like wildfire, burning away the ache. Anger at my mother for interfering. Anger at Luke for letting her. But mostly, anger at myself for believing he’d be different from everyone else who’s ever looked at me and seen someone weak who needs protecting.
For a moment, his face flashes in my mind—those dark eyes that I felt like I could get lost in, the way his smile would start slowly at one corner of his mouth before taking over his whole face. The steady presence that made me feel like I’d found solid ground in the middle of a hurricane. The way his hands felt against my skin, strong but gentle, like I was something precious but never fragile.
I release a shaky breath that tastes of ash.
A knock at my door cuts through the spiral of my thoughts. I swipe at my eyes, force the fire back beneath my skin, and cross the room in three quick strides.
Pull yourself together, dammit!
Nadia stands in the hallway, all business in her tactical blacks, pale eyes assessing me in one sweep. Her gaze lingers on my face, and I wonder if my emotions are still written all over it. Probably. I’ve never been good at hiding my emotions.
