“It was important tome.” Needing distance, Serenna surged to her feet, frustration flaring hot in her chest. She rapidly blinked, refusing to release the burning tears. “How many times did I have to ask? All I wanted was to know if we had a future! I just wanted—”
Before she could finish, Vesryn rose abruptly and gripped her shoulders. “I wanted to bring you here for the Solstice,” he said, his voice quieter now, almost pleading, “to ask if you’d accept the bond.”
Serenna froze. It wasn’t just his confession—it was the fragile hope it carried. How he admitted that he wanted something more. Once, accepting the bond had been her only desire, but now she wasn’t sure.
“I wanted the night to be special,” Vesryn continued, barely audible over the gentle breeze. “I wanted to bring you here to watch the moons eclipse, to take my time with you.” His fingerstightened around her, as if he feared she might slip away. “But after we captured those wraith, I wasn’t thinking straight. That wasn’t how I wanted it to happen.” His eyes searched hers, desperation flickering in their depths. He swallowed hard, clearing his throat. “I haven’t touched anyone in a hundred years—not since the night I thought my brother died. Not until you.”
The world seemed to tilt beneath Serenna’s feet, her anger fading to an ember. In its place, a hollow ache spread through her chest, chilling her to the bone.
Vesryn’s voice wavered, unsteady as moonlight rippling over the sea. “Everything changed when this bond formed. You…you brought me back to life.” His thumbs skimmed down her arms, but Serenna was hesitant to let the warmth unfurl. “Then I fucked it up. Just like I always do.”
The prince stepped back, hands falling away as he knotted his fingers behind his neck. He blew out a long sigh, his eyes lifting toward the blooming stars. “I spent weeks searching for you, terrified you were hurt. Or worse.” When his gaze finally dropped back to hers, grief mired the bond. “But now that I’ve found you…I feel like I’ve lost you.”
His quiet admission splintered through her. The heavy evening wrapped around them, the silence broken by the waves lapping against the shore. Despite this small step toward reclaiming what they once shared, it felt like they had taken two steps back. Serenna reached out and brushed his arm, hoping to bridge the widening chasm of misunderstanding and hurt.
“You haven’t lost me,” she whispered, her tears finally spilling over, tracing paths down her cheeks.
“Haven’t I?” Vesryn tensed under her fingers, eyes flicking to where he’d healed fang marks on her neck the night before. “I heard you bonded with that wraith—”
Serenna pulled her hand back. “Fenn is my friend,” she said carefully, heart lurching in a sudden sea of turmoil. “He’s kept me safe—”
“And a lot more than that, it seems,” Vesryn snapped, though his voice held more misery than bitterness.
But his words still struck deep. Serenna nearly recoiled. Almost slammed the bond shut, retreating from this tangled mess of hurt. But she’d experienced the same ache of jealousy weeks ago when she thought she’d lost the prince.
Serenna lifted her chin, her resolve blanketing the guilt that threatened to surface. She wasn’t ashamed—she refused to be. Fenn had been her foundation when her world shattered. She wouldn’t apologize for that, wouldn’t cast him aside just because the prince had finally decided what he wanted.
Vesryn must’ve sensed the shift because his shoulders slumped as he glanced away. “You were supposed to be mine,” he said, an anguished whisper. “I thought this bond forming between us meant something.”
“Then why did it never feel that way?” Serenna’s voice cracked, the question slipping out on a ragged exhale. Her chin quivered, Vesryn’s pain a fractured mirror of her own.
Comparing Vesryn to Fenn felt like a betrayal—but unlike Vesryn, Fenn had never left her doubting her place in his heart. Serenna forced out the question that burned on her tongue, perhaps the one that had wounded her the most. “Why did you always leave me uncertain about what was between us?”
Vesryn flinched, just a flicker of movement, but enough for Serenna to see the wound left behind. His expression crumpled and so did the rest of him, his knees hitting the sand before her.
“I know I failed you and I’m sorry,” he whispered, emerald eyes searching hers. “I could lay out all of my excuses, but words are a pathetic means to make amends.”
Serenna tensed, a scathing retort rising—that if he had onlyspokento her sooner, none of this would have happened. But looking at him now, kneeling before her, already broken, she couldn’t bring herself to twist the knife any deeper.
Reading her hesitation, Vesryn stilled, his hand hovering in the space between them. Serenna didn’t pull away as his fingers tentatively grazed hers before cradling her palms.
He trembled, like he wasn’t sure if he still had the right to hold her at all, before saying, “I want to prove to you that this bond means something to me.”
Serenna’s breath hitched as a flood of his emotions swelled—pain and longing entwined with fragile hope. For a moment, she swore she felt the threads of their bond quivering, straining to weave together as a truth settled—she couldn’t deny his care for her. Imperfect, perhaps, but real.
“I wasn’t raised to expect one person to belong to another, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want you for myself,” Vesryn admitted, his jaw tightening before he forced out an exhale. “But that’s selfish. You shine too brightly to be a star snatched from the sky and hidden in my shadows. But if someday, you ever want to accept—”
His palms tensed around hers, head snapping to the west.
“What is it?” Serenna asked, her pulse jumping in response to his alarm.
“Jassyn.” Indecision contorted Vesryn’s face. “I—I felt a pull.” His eyes unfocused before drifting back to hers, brimming with worry. “He’s probably fine. We—”
“Should go back,” Serenna finished softly as she squeezed his hands, tugging him to his feet.
But the words still felt like a retreat, not a resolution. And despite having the conversation she’d so desperately longed for, she wasn’t sure it had brought any closure at all.
CHAPTER 12
