“There was a house,” Thane said. “In the Northern quarter. Old, forgotten. Abandoned after the Civil Fracture. One of my father’s properties.”
Riven’s mouth went dry.
Thane continued, voice rough. “He used to take me there when I was young. Said it was safer. Said it was wherefamily matterswere handled. I hated it. Hated the way it smelled. The way the floorboards groaned.”
He turned then, facing Riven again, and there was something in his eyes Riven had never seen there before.
Hurt.
“The mural was in my room,” Thane said. “That unicorn. I remember it. I remember watching it crack more every year and no one bothering to fix it.”
Riven felt a chill crawl down his spine. “You think they took me to your old house?”
“I don’t think,” Thane said coldly. “I know. That mural doesn’t exist anywhere else.”
Riven gripped the blanket tighter. “But you said the property was abandoned.”
“It was. Or so I thought.” Thane’s jaw clenched. “Which means someone has been keeping it ready. Which means this isn’t just about the Hollow Hand.”
“It’s about you,” Riven said softly. “It’s personal.”
Thane gave a small, bitter smile.
He crossed back to Riven, slow now, a kind of carefulness to his steps that had nothing to do with Riven’s condition and everything to do with what had just been confirmed.
Thane sat on the edge of the bed. He didn’t speak again. Just reached up, ran a hand through Riven’s hair. This time there was no command in it. No lust, just desperate, gentle grounding.
“You’re sure?” Thane asked, as if hoping—despite everything—that Riven would shake his head and say no.
But Riven nodded.
“The horn was cracked,” he said. “I’m sure.”
And Thane closed his eyes.
Chapter 54
Thane stood from the bed abruptly, that barely-contained fury back in every taut line of his body.
“Where are you going?” Riven asked, the question escaping before he even fully understood the panic curling in his chest.
Thane didn’t look at him when he answered. “To the house.” Riven pushed the blankets aside and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. The floor was cold, and his balance wobbled for a moment, but he forced himself upright anyway.
“No,” he said, voice hoarse but steady. “I’m going with you.”
Thane spun on him in a flash. “Get back in the fucking bed.”
Riven didn’t move. “No.”
A sharp growl left Thane’s throat. “Are you going to be disobedient again?”
“Only if you make me,” Riven shot back, lifting his chin. He wasn’t sure where the courage came from—maybe it was recklessness, maybe it was love, or fear, or the way the room felt empty the moment Thane had started to walk away. He knew one thing—he couldn’t let Thane go alone.
Thane stalked across the room, his stride fast and lethal, every inch of him vibrating with frustration. He came to a halt just in front of Riven, so close the heat of him washed over Riven’s skin.
He loomed, dark and furious, his jaw clenched so tight it looked painful.
Riven refused to look away. His legs trembled beneath him, but not from fear. From the force of how much hefeltin this moment. The tension between them curled tight, thick as smoke. He could smell the faint trace of Thane’s cologne, could see the way his pupils dilated as he looked down at him. Thane wasn’t unaffected. That was what Riven clung to.
