Cassian didn’t flinch. “Apologies, Lord Thane.”
That was it. Calm, even. But Riven could feel the tension coil tighter.
“No.” Thane stepped forward, and for a moment, Riven thought he might hit him. “Apologies don’t bring back the dead. Apologies don’t keep you from dragging someone wemarkedto a fucking Glint-ridden pit of a bar. You put him in open territory, and now we’ve got a barely alive sniper mage in Glint clothing, and you’ve got a wounded brother.”
Riven’s jaw tightened, the remnants of alcohol and adrenaline churning in his gut. “It wasn’t Cassian’s idea,” he said, stepping forward. “It was mine. I asked to go out. They didn’t have a choice.”
Thane turned on him so fast it knocked the air from Riven’s lungs. He expected a slap, a snarl, something to put him in his place. But Thane didn’t raise his voice. He just said, low and deadly, “They always have a choice.”
Riven couldn’t look away from the fire in his eyes. “So blame me.”
“You’re not the one sworn to the House.”
That stung, more than it should’ve. Riven’s hand curled into a fist. “Yeah? Could’ve fooled me.”
Aeris cut in with surgical precision. “If you’re planning to shed blood, Thane, take it out ofmyinfirmary. I just had the floor cleaned.”
Their voice didn’t rise. They didn’t blink. But it was enough to make Thane stop and redirect the full brunt of his glare toward them.
“This isyourfault too,” Thane snapped. “You should’ve had someone ready to take the Glint bastard straight to containment.”
Aeris gave him a cool smile. “I’m a doctor, not a jailer. You want someone on call for prisoner transport, talk to the Matriarch.”
Thane stared them down, jaw clenched, muscle twitching at his temple. Then he turned and stormed out, the doors slamming against the wall on his way.
For a second, no one moved.
Then Riven was after him.
The hallway outside was dim and silent, lit by flickering crystal sconces that cast long, stretched shadows on the walls. Thane’s boots echoed ahead like gunshots, but Riven kept pace, jogging a few steps to catch up.
The tension in the infirmary hadn’t left his body; it had only shifted, knotted lower in his stomach. He jogged into the dim hallway, the cool air hitting his flushed skin, but it didn’t help. Thane’s footsteps were a furious rhythm ahead of him, echoing down the corridor like a drumbeat.
“Thane!” Riven snapped. “Stop walking away from me.”
Thane didn’t stop immediately—but eventually he did. Halfway down the corridor, he halted, spine straight, shoulders like steel rods under his coat. He turned slowly, his expression stormy.
“I said, stay out of it.”
“You don’t get to say that after barging in and tearing Cassian a new one. I was the one who left the estate. I was the one who asked them to take me out.”
“And I was the one who should’ve been with you,” Thane growled. “You think I don’t know that?”
Riven blinked, thrown. “Then why weren’t you?”
The question hung heavy in the air, and Thane’s jaw flexed. He didn’t answer directly. Instead, his gaze swept over Riven, lingering in a way that made something low and hot bloom behind Riven’s navel.
“Did you miss me?” Thane asked softly.
Riven scowled. “No.”
“Liar.”
Thane took a step forward.
“I can smell it on you,” he said, voice rough velvet. “Did you spend all day trying not to think about me? Trying to forget what it felt like to kneel? What I tasted like on your tongue?”
Riven opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Color flushed his face, neck, chest. He couldn’t stop remembering the press of Thane’s palm on his shoulder. The taste of him. The shameful, dizzying want.
