He didn’t flinch. “We’ll find out what it is. Together.”
She studied his face, every angle of it illuminated by firelight. The worry beneath his eyes. The thin red scar near his ear he’d never mentioned. The gentle curve of his lips when he wasn’t snarling at cadets or slicing through enemies. He was beautiful, in the wild way of wolves. Sharp. Loyal. Dangerous. She lifted her hand, brushing her fingers across his cheek. “You haven’t slept.”
He smirked faintly. “You’re one to talk.”
“Sleep with me,” she whispered.
His brow lifted.
“I meant, just lie next to me. Nothing else. I need to know the world’s still here.”
He didn’t answer with words. He lay down behind her, wrapping himself around her body, his warmth a fortress against the bad shadows. His arm slid beneath her neck, the other across herwaist, locking her to him as if she might vanish again if he let go. She didn’t. She stayed. When he finally slept, his heart beat softly against her back. Thaelyn closed her eyes and let herself fall into the hush between breaths. The quiet after the storm. The beginning of home.
The gray light of dawn crept along the stone floor in quiet ribbons, brushing the edges of the hearth and catching on the curve of tangled blankets. Outside the window slit, mist curled low over the cliffs, silvering the peaks and softening the sharp lines of the tower walls. Inside, their room was silent save for the low, rhythmic breath of sleep.
Thorne lay still on his back, one arm curved protectively around the sleeping form curled into his chest. Thaelyn’s head rested in the space between his shoulder and collarbone, her breath warm against his skin. Her hair spread like fire across his chest. Her hand was splayed across his ribs, her fingers curled slightly, as if she feared even in sleep that he might slip away.
He hadn’t slept like that in weeks. Maybe months. Not since Nyxariel first roared her storm into the skies and tore his world wide open. His other arm lay across his stomach, palm turned upward, fingers still faintly twitching from the dream that had startled him awake. It hadn’t been a nightmare. Not entirely. Just a memory re-lived with unbearable clarity. The moment he’d lost her. The echo of Nyxariel’s scream still throbbed in his bones. It rang in Vornokh’s mind like a cracked bell. That vast silence when the bond went dark, that helplessness. That sickening moment when everything inside him had hollowed out. He couldn’t breathe for a second. And then, there she was again. In his arms. Warm. Alive.
He turned his head slightly and looked down at her, and really looked. Her face was pressed softly into his chest, eyes still closed in a deep sleep. Her long lashes rested like dark feathers against his chest. Her lips parted slightly. Her breathing was even, steady. Herskin carried a faint flush again, not the cold pallor of the infirmary. She was whole. She was here. He couldn’t stop the tear that slipped down, across the bridge of his nose, and fell silently. It landed on her cheek.
Thaelyn stirred with a quiet sound, her brow furrowing as the tear brushed her skin. Her lashes fluttered, then parted. She looked up at him with sleepy confusion in her eyes and then with concern. “Thorne?” Her voice was still rough with sleep. “What is it?”
He shook his head, exhaling through his nose, jaw tight. He tried to wipe the tear away, but she caught his hand and laced her fingers with his.
“You’re crying.”
“No,” he muttered. “I’m just breathing hard.”
She smiled faintly. “Terrible liar.”
He laughed once under his breath, low and hoarse. Then fell silent. The quiet stretched and was filled only by the rhythm of their shared breath. He turned onto his side, curling toward her. His forehead touched hers. One hand cradled her jaw as if she might vanish again if he looked away.
“I thought I lost you.”
“I know,” she whispered.
His thumb brushed along the curve of her cheek. “I heard Nyxariel’s scream, and the bond went silent.” His voice caught. “I would’ve burned the world down.”
Thaelyn didn’t answer. She only pressed her palm to his chest, over the steady thrum of his heart. He caught her hand in his and held it there.
“I love you. I will love you long after the stars burn out.”
The words landed like a tether, like gravity. Heavy, anchoring. Real. Thaelyn didn’t blink. Her lips parted, and a breath caught in her throat. Her body went still against his.
He swallowed, his voice lower now. “I’ve known it for a while. I just couldn’t say it before.”
Her brow furrowed slightly, something fragile breaking in her eyes.
“You unraveled every guard I ever raised. With my body and soul, I am yours and in every breath that follows.”
She leaned in and kissed him, slow and deep. It was not a kiss like their fire-lit passion before, just warmth and truth. Her fingers threaded through his hair, and she pulled him to her as if to answer without speaking.
When she finally drew back, her voice was a whisper against his lips. “I need you to show me in all that you do. I need you to always be faithful. Words are just words.”
Thorne knelt in front of her. “I am on my knees. I will be all that you need.”
“I do not fear your darkness or flames. I would rather burn or be swallowed by shadows than to live untouched by you,” she replied. “I love you.”
