“Now?” Serenna’s attention flicked toward Jassyn and Lykor, locked in an awkward silence she assumed was thick enough to choke on—no tea required.
Vesryn’s shrug seemed indifferent, but his fingers twitched as the illumination flared. “I figured you’d want to wait up.”
Warmth stirred in Serenna’s chest at the quiet care hidden beneath his practicality. He didn’t have to offer, but he did—despite the discomfort he tried to hide.
“Okay,” she agreed, rising to her feet with the prince. She drew her cloak tighter before they stepped away from the campfire and into the chilly night.
The forest stretched around them, silent except for the squeak of snow crunching beneath their boots. Their breathsmisted in pale clouds, curling with hanging wood smoke. Each step carried them deeper into the spindly trees, the ice-coated branches glinting in the illumination hovering above the prince’s palm.
Serenna glanced at the shimmering globe, wondering if it could emit warmth as well as light—without burning. “Have you made any progress with calling sunfire again?”
“Not since a few nights ago.” A muscle feathered in Vesryn’s cheek as he stared at the glowing sphere. “I don’t know what I did, and I can’t seem to do it again.”
Flexing his fingers, the tendons in his hands rippled as though he was wrestling with more than just the whirling orb. With a disgusted sigh, Vesryn extinguished the glow and summoned a fistful of shadows instead.
“If I can’t even master something as basic as illumination, how am I supposed to protect you—or anyone else?” His voice wavered before his teeth clicked shut, the admission seeming to escape before he could stop it.
Flicking his wrist, rending lashed forward. Darkness struck a fallen tree with a sharpcrackthat shattered the stillness.
Vesryn threw himself into a relentless rhythm, shadows thrashing around him as he split the logs. With each swing of magic, he drifted further away, retreating into the work.
Serenna’s chest tightened as she watched him. His agitation wasn’t just about the sunfire. It ran deeper than that, tangled with everything else—Lykor, Fenn, this endless journey, and all those in the jungle depending on them to discover a haven.
She searched her mind for something comforting to say, but guilt wrapped its talons around her. Fenn’s presence had pushed Vesryn out of the center of her world. Though she hadn’t meant for it to happen, she couldn’t deny she’d played a part. And admitting that truth stung.
But the prince hadn’t given up on her—or them. In a moment of shared uncertainty, he’d reached for her back on Vaelyn’s cliffs. Not with words of reassurance, but with a fierce kiss, a silent promise to hold on.
Vesryn rarely spoke his care aloud, but his actions never left room for doubt. This moment wasn’t so different. The way he attacked the wood, each strike carrying the weight of his frustration, felt like another kind of language.
Serenna exhaled, willing her remorse to dissolve as she stepped toward him. She could bridge this divide in a way he understood—in the wayhewould.
Pulse quickening, she approached and brushed his arm. His cloak denied actual contact, but even so, Vesryn stilled. The shadows writhing around his hands wavered as if the simple gesture surprised him.
For a moment, he didn’t move. But when his gaze finally drifted toward hers, his jade eyes reflected the light of the rising moons—piercing sharper than the wind slicing through her furs.
“So you only notice me when Fenn’s not around?”
Serenna’s heart lurched at the accusation and she withdrew. Was that how she made him feel?
“That’s not true,” she said quickly, defensiveness instinctively tumbling out.
Vesryn’s mouth slashed into a hard line, his expression shuttering as he pulled away. Then, with a heavy sigh, he dragged a hand across his face, releasing his power.
“I’m sorry,” he mumbled at the trees. “You didn’t deserve that. It’s just…”
Serenna rested her palm on his back. At her touch, Vesryn’s shoulders sagged, the weight of everything he carried seeming to bear down at once. Slowly, he turned to face her, hesitation etched into every movement.
“I don’t know what you need from me,” he confessed quietly, the words rough but sincere. “I see the way you look at him, how easily you trust him. And then there’s me. Fumbling with my power and making a mess of things. Trying to be enough but falling short.”
Serenna’s heart twisted at the ache in his tone—at the wound beneath it. She opened her mouth, but what comfort could she offer? Fenn had carved out a different place in her heart than Vesryn had, and maybe he sensed that too.
Vesryn released an unsteady exhale, steam curling in the cold. “I know if…” His voice was lower now, raw in a way that made Serenna’s chest tighten. “If it ever came down to it, you’d choose him.”
Serenna’s breath caught. “Vesryn—”
“You don’t have to say it,” he cut in gently, shaking his head. “I already know. But the only one to blame is myself.”
“I’m sorry that Fenn…complicated things between us,” Serenna said softly. “But I need you to know that you matter to me too.”
