I thought when he marked me—when I carved my name into his antler—it was something he wanted. Could it have been the bond all along? Is there nothing between us more than a forcebeyond our control compelling us to feel and act on things we don't actually feel?
The thought makes me nauseous.
A soft thud comes from the other side of the door, like someone leaning their weight against it.
My breath catches.
I wait, frozen in the cooling water, listening for... What? An apology? An explanation?
But nothing comes. Just heavy silence suffocating me from everything being left unsaid.
My throat tightens. Part of me wants to call out to him. For him to hold me and tell me I'm overthinking everything.
But the other part—the part that saw the haunted look in his eyes—knows better.
I sink lower until the water reaches my chin.
When I finally force myself to get out, my skin is pruney, and I smell like an apothecary. I wrap myself in one of his shirts; it's the only thing I can find in here. I hesitate at the bathroom door.
The hallway is unnaturally quiet. For a moment, I think he may have left. Maybe he couldn't stand to be near me anymore and just... walked back into the forest where he belongs.
That thought shouldn't hurt as much as it does.
I tiptoe down the hall, trying to make as little noise as possible, following the faint glow of the fire in the living room.
I pause in the doorway.
He's on his knees in front of the hearth, back to me, shoulders hunched, head bowed low. His antlers cast jagged shadows across the wall. His hands are pressed flat against the floor, like he's bracing himself—or begging.
He's whispering low, in Vraksûn. The words tumble out of him in a desperate, fractured rhythm. I only catch pieces—fragments that twist like knives.
“Skar’vesin... Tharûn...” (Shame... Unworthy...)
“Kai’morin ael”tharûn ves...” (My heart... Failed you.)
“Nai’kael... Veskarya...” (I am not... you who marked me.)
My stomach drops. He's praying to his gods, and every word I understand sounds like regret... like shame.
Is he... apologizing for me?
My throat closes and my vision blurs. I take a step back, trying to sneak away, but the floorboard creaks.
He freezes.
Andrik pov-
The floorboard groans behind me.
Every muscle in my body locks up.
No.
No, no, no?—
I was praying. Begging the gods, the forest, anyone to help me fix this. To take away the shame clawing through my chest so I could face her without this devastating weight crushing me.
I came in my thrahking pants like a youngling experiencing his first touch.
