“Why is my age of no concern to you, but Sai’s…”
“Because it’sSai,” she says immediately, causing a low laugh to rumble from me.
“He’s still relatively young for an immortal. Alas, Sai is an enigma.”
She presses her lips together and nods, exhaling a soft laugh, losing her deep frown as she tries to refocus.
“What were people saying about the Green Cloaks that made Sai take an interest?”
“That they, and certain high fae, were working together, trying to enforce a Purist regime by locking away dark faes… or worse.”
Her jaw tightens, eyes darkening as she wets her lips. “He wanted to go back, didn’t he?”
I nod. “We wouldn’t let him, of course. It led to a fight. He turned on us, fought all three of us, exhausting himself until we had no choice but to chain him in the Pit.”
Her breath catches and mine does too.
The image of Sai, so chaotic, so achingly fragile, bound by us sends a sharp pulse through our bond, through our blood.
“Ezekial and Kane didn’t understand the depth of Sai’s rage,” I continue. “And while it was never my story to tell… Saiwas in no state to share it. I didn’t have the time to explain with words, so—foolishly—I showed them. All of it. Every memory.”
I see the understanding strike her, I know she’s remembering it now, Sai’s suffering.
“Their rage for him… it was immediate, immense,” I murmur. “Ezekial’s temper is infamous, but Kane’s…” I pause, thinking of that moment, of shadows swallowing him whole. “Kane is something else entirely. He wanted blood, bodies,vengeance.”
I recall how even Ezekial and I couldn’t ground Kane.
“His fury consumed him, nothing reached through, nothing worked. In the end, it was Sai who stopped him.”
Jasmine doesn’t move, but something in her breathing slows. Her lips part like she means to speak, but the words don’t come.
“We spent a long time in the Pit that night. The three of us, together,” I say quietly. “Telling our stories, sharing our memories, putting them into the air, letting them fester in the Pit so they might stop rotting inside of us. It’s something I’ll never forget.” It was the turning point in our relationship. “We made a vow that day.”
“Tell me,” she whispers.
“When the time is right, we’ll return, and turn the Fae Realm to ash.”
Her eyes meet mine, unflinching. “And I will come with you.”
Her vow hums in the air like a living, breathing thing. It coils around my bones, seeping into every part of me that still burns for justice. For revenge.
“Jasmine…”
Her eyes clash with mine, cardinal red, a live flame, a burning rage spiking the depths.
“Nimur,” she says, gaze never leaving mine, and I am bewitched by her. “I understand now.”
I exhale slowly. “Jasmine, this isn’t—”
“This isn’t what?” She leans forwards, coffee and food forgotten. She’s so much closer, if I tilted my head down just so… “Isn’t my fight? Isn’t my concern?”
My heart beats faster, not from her words, but from her. The fire in her eyes, her natural fierceness, her vicious possessiveness—I know it all too well.
When her darkness spikes out, filling the small space between us, all I want is to pull her closer.
I should tell her no. That she doesn’t understand the weight of the vow we made, the bodies it will leave in its wake. But as I hold her gaze, I remember what she said in the Pit.
She is our bond: our equal. She is now a part of that vow.
