Locke enters next, wiping blood from a cut on his temple that I hadn’t noticed before. “We’ll clean her up in a bit. She needs rest more than anything right now.” His voice is softer than usual, and I can see the way his eyes linger on her face.
I nod in agreement, and he moves to leave, but then he pauses at the doorway and turns back to me. “Sam, there’s food in the main hall. Get what you need. I’ll take first watch.”
I don’t move, too stunned by everything that’s happened from the moment we’ve arrived in this realm. My mate has faced so much in such a short period. I’m in awe of her strength, of the way she keeps getting back up no matter how hard she’s knocked down.
I stay by her side, settling carefully at the edge of the bed, watching her chest rise and fall in the steady rhythm of exhausted sleep. She looks smaller somehow, curled on her side like a child, her hand still flexing unconsciously like she’s holding onto something or someone. Even in sleep, she can’t fully let go.
I run a hand through my hair and let the silence settle around us like a blanket. The quiet is so profound after the chaos of our escape that it feels almost sacred.
She’s still here. Still breathing. A survivor, a warrior in her own right, and she’s mine.
She’s passed three trials that would have destroyed most people. Faced her own death and came back swinging. Now. . .that light, that incredible power she just displayed, it’s back with a vengeance. This magic is beyond what she possessed before, more raw and primal and devastating. I can feel it in the air around her, humming just beneath her skin like electricity.
I also saw her face when she collapsed after unleashing that power. She’s not okay, far from it, and all I can do is be there when she wakes to pick up the pieces of her shattered heart and help her sew the threads back together.
Something else broke inside her on those plains. I don’t know what it was, but I can guess it has something to do with Micah and the Tether they share.
The Tether that’s now gone. I can feel it in our bond, the absence of it like a missing tooth. Where there used to be a second thread of connection, now there’s only emptiness. So much pain and sorrow flows through our mate bond that it makes my chest ache in sympathy. What does it mean? Has something happened to Micah? She’s not. . .no. I would feel the Mortal Realm burning from here if she was gone. There is no way the guys would take that lying down, they’d tear the world apart looking for answers.
Esme will want to find out what happened. She’ll want to go back to the Mortal Realm to find the truth, and I’ll follow her. Wherever she goes in this life and the next, I’ll be right beside her.
We have one trial left, and then we could be facing war or worse. The thought sits heavy in my stomach like a stone.
I lean over and brush a loose strand of silver hair from her face, marveling at how it seems to hold light even in the dim room. My wolf prowls inside, agitated, desperate to protect what’s ours, to hunt down every threat and eliminate it before it can touch her. Right now, I need to be the man, not the beast. I need to be whole for her when she’s in pieces.
Reluctantly, I leave her side to find a cloth and move the basin of water closer. Gently, I begin to clean the grime and blood from her face, starting with her forehead and working my way down. Her skin is cool beneath my touch, too cool for my liking, but I can feel the faint pulse of magic just beneath thesurface. Even in sleep, her brow furrows with remnants of pain or nightmares, and I smooth the lines away with my thumb.
“I got you, Angel,” I whisper, though I’m not sure she can hear me. “You did good out there. So damn good. I’m so proud of you I can barely breathe.”
I continue my ministrations, cleaning her arms with careful strokes, her hands, hands that just unleashed power that would make gods think twice. Her fingers are long and elegant, but I can see new calluses forming from riding, small scars from recent battles. My chest aches with pride and fear in equal measure. She’s changing, evolving before my eyes into something magnificent and terrifying. Will she still need me when this is all over? When she becomes whatever she’s meant to be?
The wolf growls low in my chest, annoyed at my insecurity. He knows better. Mate is mate, no matter what powers she develops or how far her magic takes her. The human in me. . .the human worries about being left behind.
I’ve just finished wiping the last traces of dirt from her temple when Locke appears at the doorway again, his presence a dark shadow that fills the frame. Even relaxed, he carries himself like a weapon, all coiled strength and barely contained violence.
“You need to eat,” he says, but there’s less command in his voice now. Something closer to concern, though he’d probably gut me for suggesting it.
“I will,” I respond, not looking up from my gentle ministrations. “When she’s settled properly.”
He doesn’t leave immediately, and I feel his gaze heavy on us both, weighing and measuring.
“That light. . .” he finally says, his voice rougher than usual. “That’s not something she could do before, I’m guessing. Not a witchy power.”
I look up at him then, meeting his eyes directly. “No. It wasn’t.” There’s no point in pretending otherwise. What Esme just did was beyond anything I’ve seen from witches, even powerful ones.
Our eyes lock in mutual understanding, two males bound by our connection to the woman sleeping between us. Whatever Esme is becoming, it’s more than either of us bargained for.
“The Tether to this Micah—” he starts, and I can see him struggling with how much to say.
“It’s gone.” The words feel like stones in my mouth, heavy and final. “I can feel it, or rather, I can feel the absence of it. Like a wound that’s been cauterized.”
Locke’s jaw tightens, and for a moment, I see something flash in his eyes—relief? Fear? Maybe both. He masks it quickly, but not before I catch it. “When she wakes she’ll want answers.”
I nod, understanding the weight of what he’s not saying. “First, she needs strength. Food, rest, time to process whatever happened in that trial.”
He turns to go, then pauses with his hand on the doorframe. “The wraiths were drawn to her specifically. Not to us, not to anyone else who might have passed through those plains. To her.”
My hand instinctively tightens around Esme’s, and I feel her fingers respond slightly to the pressure. “What are you saying?”
