“Of the realm,” she said. “One path leads to fire. The other to ash.”
He nodded, slowly. “I’ll speak with the Head Seer,” he murmured. “Quietly. I’ll have him set a trace. Discreet. Kaen won’t know.”
“You’ll need more than a trace,” Elyria said. “You’ll need someone to watch and follow him that Kaen won’t suspect. Someone close, but nottooclose.”
Varian looked to the far end of the chamber, where the map of the kingdom hung across an entire wall. “Aerisya,” he said.
Elyria’s brows lifted.
“She loves her brother,” Varian said. “But she loves the truth more.”
Elyria nodded. “Then let her be the lantern in the dark.”
They stood together in silence, side by side. The moon traced its slow arc behind the clouded sky. Though no words passed between them for a long time, one truth now lay heavy and still between their hearts. Their son, their heir, was walking too close to the shadow. The other one was fighting to protect the realm and the woman he had chosen. Their daughter, whom they had hoped to protect from all political madness, will become the flame that would either reveal him or burn them all.
Chapter
Forty-Eight
The soft flicker of wardlight pulsed from the crystal sconces inset into the stone walls, casting a warm golden hue across the room. Thorne’s chamber smelled faintly of pine, oil, and old books, with the comforting weight of dragonsmoke lingering in the tapestries. Thorne’s quarters were larger than most cadets, but even so, every surface had now been shifted to accommodate Thaelyn.
A second trunk sat beside his. Her cloak was draped neatly over the back of the spare chair. A few books of hers had joined his collection on the low reading table. Her brush lay near the basin. Her presence was everywhere now, subtle but undeniable, as if her absence had been the only thing missing from the room all along.
Thaelyn stirred beneath the heavy quilt he’d wrapped around her. The thick pelts beneath her softened the floor, and the heat from the embers warmed the soles of her feet. She blinked slowly, adjusting to the golden light. Every part of her body ached, not from visible wounds, but from the inside out. Like something vital had been strained, stretched, and only now remembered how to return to her skin. Her eyes found him instantly.
Thorne sat in the armchair beside the bed. His long legs stretched out, one boot was still on, and his head tilted to rest against the back of the chair. His cloak had slipped off one shoulder. Her eyes focused on his black shirt, noticing it was undone. She glanced along the edges leading to his exposed scarredcollarbone and the sweep of the dragon-mark that curled down his chest. He looked half-wild in the firelight, unkept, brooding, and hers. She didn’t mean to speak. But the word fell from her mouth like a breath. “Thorne.”
He stirred instantly, his body snapping upright before his eyes even opened. His gaze locked on hers, and all the tension in his frame melted in a single exhale. He leaned forward, brushing his knuckles down the line of her jaw, grounding her with a touch so gentle it nearly undid her.
“This is my room, and I’m not letting you out of my sight,” he said. “Not now. Not again.”
She blinked, looking puzzled around the room.
“Our quarters,” he said softly. “I brought you here after the healers cleared your chest. You're still being monitored, but you’re staying with me.”
Her brow furrowed. “The council, the rules.”
“They already gave a vote,” he said darkly. “Not on this move. I can’t protect you at night if I’m halfway across the dorms.” His thumb brushed over the back of her hand. She hadn't even realized he'd taken it. “I moved your trunk this morning,” he added. “Iri and the others helped. Nyxariel’s been outside the tower wall all night. She won’t go far.”
Thaelyn breathed in deeply and winced as her chest caught.
“She fought,” she murmured. “I could feel her rage even when I couldn’t hear her. Like echoes through stone.”
“She nearly brought the cliffs down,” he said. “Vornokh wouldn’t stop until we had you. I don’t think he’s left the skies since. They’re different now. Since it happened.”
“I’m different.”
His jaw flexed. “I know.” He adjusted in his chair and ran his fingers through his hair like he does when he is frustrated. “I should have been there,” he said finally, voice rough and low. “Every instinct told me something was wrong that night. I even mentioned it to Garric. We were going to switch you to our squad. I dismissed it in the end. I ignored it because I thought I was giving you space, letting you find your own place without me hovering over you. Ithought it was the right thing.” His jaw clenched, the following words scraping out like a confession. “But it wasn’t. I failed you, Thaelyn. I’ve trained my whole damn life to protect what matters, to stand between danger and those who can’t see it coming, and when it mattered most, I chose wrong, and I wasn’t there.”
She turned toward him, eyes soft but steady. “Thorne,” she whispered. “You didn’t fail me, nor did you choose incorrectly.”
He looked up then, and the rawness in his expression nearly broke her. “What they did to you, and what else could’ve happened.”
“I don’t blame you,” she said quietly. “I know it’s not your fault. You can’t be everywhere. You can’t save everyone. You taught me that.”
His breath shuddered out. For a heartbeat, he looked like he might argue, but then he nodded. The tension in his shoulders was breaking just enough for sorrow to slip through. “I can’t lose you again,” he murmured.
“You won’t,” she said, stepping closer until the distance between them was small enough to feel his warmth. “You didn’t fail me, Thorne. You found me.” She shifted just enough to look up at him. “But something still feels wrong out there. It’s only begun.”
