But Thane didn’t take it. He only stared, not like a soldier reclaiming property but like a man cataloguing something rare. Something dangerous.
“I told Jake he wasn’t ready,” Thane said quietly, eyes fixed on the blade. “Told him he needed to take his Claiming seriously. That the kingdom couldn’t afford a hesitant heir.”
Ella said nothing, but her fingers tightened on the hilt, the smallest movement betrayed how the words hit her.
“He’s changed,” Thane continued, voice even. “Focused. Clear-eyed. More than I’ve ever seen him.”
Jakobav hadn’t expected the approval, almost pride, shaping his words.
“And that’s because of you.”
Jakobav’s jaw tightened, the truth landing harder than he would ever admit.
Focused. Clear-eyed. Because of her. He couldn’t deny it, not even to himself. She’d been good for him. The past weeks had honed him in ways war had not, in ways council had not, in ways years of training for the Claiming never had. She’d forcedhim to look beyond his own walls, beyond the iron weight of expectation, and see more.
And yet not right now.
Right now she was a fucking distraction, keeping him from the training field or in the war room, drilling strategy into his generals, preparing himself for the most important day of his life. Instead, he stood in shadow like some jealous wraith, watching her, wanting her, knowing he would burn everything he had built to the ground just to have her look at him and no one else.
Fucking fates. He couldn’t turn away.
Her hair had grown longer since she’d arrived, falling in loose, dark waves that brushed against her lower back, unbound and wild, exactly like her. The dress she wore tonight clung to her in ways that made his blood heat, a soft curve here, a sharp line there, the kind of contrast that seared itself into a man’s mind, refusing to let go.
She had no idea the dress was flame resistant, tailored exactly to her, commissioned the moment he realized he didn’t want her to leave.
And she didn’t need to know.
She looked devastatingly feminine, but Jakobav knew better than to mistake softness for weakness. She radiated power, raw and unapologetic, curling under his skin and promising to strike quickly.
And if she smiled at another man one more fucking time, he might come undone.
He needed to regain control.
Ella opened her mouth, then closed it. Her chin lifted in that stubborn way of hers.
“I didn’t?—”
“You did,” Thane said, cutting her off. “Whether you meant to or not. You woke something in him that we’ve all been waiting to see.”
Jakobav’s jaw ached from clenching. He didn’t know if he wanted to put his fist through the wall or storm into the room and kiss her until the stone itself cracked under the force of it.
Then Thane did the unthinkable.
He pushed the blade back toward her.
“Keep it.”
“What?”
“You earned it,” Thane said. “Besides, I’m due for a new one. Maybe something with less dramatic flair.”
Jakobav stared, heat spiking through his veins, a dark surge climbing.
Ella laughed softly, her eyes gleaming, like she’d just been handed a gift more precious than steel, one that Jakobav knew should’ve been his to give.
“Thank you.”
“Just don’t die,” Thane added, turning back to his whetstone with infuriating calm, and Jakobav wanted to wipe that calm from his face with blood.
