THE DREAMSTONE STIRS.
The letters pulsed once before fading, leaving the glass smooth and innocent.
I stared at my reflection, heart racing and breath shallow. “I’m not what you think I am,” I whispered, the same words I’d once told the frost before it rippled in reply.
The mirror didn’t answer this time.
But the hum beneath the floor did.
Dawn came before I was ready for it.
The frostlight outside the window had dulled to pewter, and the air felt thicker than usual, heavy with something unsaid. I hadn’t slept again. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the golden shimmer on the courtyardbelow, pulsing like a heartbeat, and the strange rune-carved words on the mirror.
I told myself I wouldn’t think about Kael’s warmth or Kaelith’s eyes or the way both of them lingered in my mind like opposing storms. I told myself I didn’t care.
The knock came before I could finish the lie.
When I opened the door, Kaelith stood in the threshold, all frost and control. He’d dressed for formality—dark tunic, gloves, no armor—but there was something restless beneath the surface. His posture was perfect, his composure sharper than the air. Only his eyes betrayed him, that steady gray flicker that caught too much.
“You’re awake early,” I said, echoing Maeryn’s tone from the day before.
“So are you.” His voice was even. Dangerous in how calm it sounded.
“I was thinking.”
He glanced past me into the room, to the faint traces of melted frost on the floorboards. The lines glowed faintly gold before fading again.
“I see that.”
I folded my arms. “You’re not here for conversation, are you?”
“No.” He stepped inside without waiting for invitation. The temperature dropped instantly. “You’ve been tampering with Winter’s runes.”
The accusation landed like a blade drawn halfway.
I blinked. “Tampering? I don’t even know what they are.”
“Don’t insult me, mortal.”
The word hit harder this time—not cruel, just clipped. He was using it as armor.
“I’m not insulting you,” I said. “I’m telling the truth. Why would I touch your—whatever they are?”
He didn’t answer immediately. His eyes moved across the room, scanning the frost patterns along the walls. They flickered when he passed, pale silver bleeding faint gold for a single heartbeat.
I watched his jaw tighten. “Because they respond to you.”
I took a step closer. “And that bothers you.”
His gaze snapped to mine. “It threatens everything I’m sworn to protect.”
“Why? Did you see something?”
The question hung between us like a spark caught in snow.
He didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. For a heartbeat, I thought he might actually answer.
Then his jaw flexed once, a restrained motion of fury or fear—I couldn’t tell which.
