He didn’t move. Didn’t speak. He just held her, eyes closed, the world beyond the walls of his room fading into the mist. The war could wait. For now, there was only this. The moment they hadn’t lost. The time they still had. Together.
Thaelyn pulled him back up, fingers remaining laced with his, resting over his heart as she watched the pain ebb from his face. There was still a shadow in his eyes, but the worst of it had passed. They were no longer on opposite ends of the sky. They were here. Together.
“I have to tell you something,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
Thorne lifted his head just enough to meet her gaze. “Anything.”
She sat up slightly, the blankets pooling around her waist, her bare shoulders kissed by the morning light filtering in from the narrow window. She looked down at her hands, her sigil-marked palm resting over his ribs, and drew a breath deep enough to steady her thoughts.
“It’s about who I am. I’m not just an Asgar Training Academy cadet,” she began. “Not just the girl Nyxariel chose.”
Thorne waited with no questions, no interruptions, and the stillness of his full attention.
“My true name isn’t Thaelyn Marren. The Marren family was my foster parents. They were good and kind people. But, they weren’t my blood.” Her voice wavered slightly, but she pushed on. “My real name is Thaelyn Taranveil. My mother, Elirien, was descended from House Taranveil. There is more, I’m the lost bloodline of King Caer Aeromir.”
Thorne’s breath stilled.
“My grandfather was the last King of Aeromir,” she said, the words were like stones released from her chest. “He led the defense when the city fell. He cast the final Aether storm that cloaked the city behind the Veil. It killed him and scattered the bloodline.”
Silence stretched between them, but it wasn’t cold. Only weighty.
“My mother died to protect me. My father was the lone Prince of Aeromir. I never knew him. My mother, who raised me, Maeriel, was an Aether Acolyte. She kept me a secret, hidden from the world, from this.” She looked down at her sigil again and pointed to the one across her back. “Now, I’m the last of my bloodline.”
Thorne sat up beside her, the covers slipping down his chest. His gaze never wavered.
“Holy shit, Thaelyn. Why didn’t you tell me, and how long have you known?”
“I didn’t know,” she admitted. “Once I found out, I wasn’t sure if I was even ready to speak it myself. Vaelen and your mother warned me to keep the Aeomir heritage a secret. They believe it puts me in even more danger than just being a Taranveil. I didn't know who I could trust and if you’d see me differently, if I even understood it myself.” Her voice grew quiet. “But after what just happened, I don’t want there to be secrets between us. If you are to help protect me, you have to know what you are protecting and what is at stake.I don't think anyone has made the connections yet, only that I have Aether power, and any adversaries will think it's from Nyxariel. I’m able to manifest from both sources.”
Thorne reached out, cupped her cheek, and brushed his thumb gently beneath her eye. “This does change things a bit, but you’re the same girl who outflew me in the sky. The same girl who knockedme on my ass on the training mats. The one who kissed me like I was the only one who ever existed. Your name could mean anything, and I’d still love you.”
She let out a quiet laugh, eyes wet. “You’re impossible.”
“I know,” he murmured, and kissed her again.
Far above them, across the Academy’s eastern spire, Queen Elyria stood within the high arched observatory chamber, her long silver-blue cloak trailing behind her as wind whispered in through the arched open windows. She turned her gaze to the star-forged compass embedded in the floor, a gift from the old city, recovered in secret before the collapse. Her hand hovered just above it, fingers trembling faintly. Magic prickled at her skin. The threads of fate pulsed in faint lines across the tiles. Two souls now bound by something older than prophecy. Aether and flame. Storm and shadow.
The Queen’s eyes closed, lashes brushing her cheek. And then, very softly, she whispered, “Please, let it be enough.” But even as she said it, a flicker of cold crossed her vision, unbidden and sudden. Darkness bleeding through the edges with Kaen’s name. She drew a sharp breath and opened her eyes. The vision lingered, whispering threads of warning in the air. She had felt his darkness bleeding before, around a cradle. A second boy was born beneath an eclipse of twin blood moons.
Her fists closed at her sides. It was time to act. The double blood moon approaches. She turned, her robes rustling like silk whispers against the stone. The King would listen. He had to.
Chapter
Forty-Nine
The Queen's chambers were quiet but tense, the fire in the hearth casting long shadows across the stone walls veined with silver inlay. Outside, dusk had begun to settle over the Asgar Training Academy; the sun was dragging crimson light over the mountain ridges like blood on glass.
King Varian stood by the tall window, one hand clasped behind his back, the other resting on the hilt of the ceremonial sword he wore whenever court business carried the weight of unrest. Elyria entered with silent steps. Her robes no longer shimmered with ceremonial magic but fell plain and deep blue around her frame. Her face was composed, but her eyes, those Seer’s eyes that had witnessed centuries of visions, were lit with something darker now. Not fear. Not yet. But unease, rooted like ice in her bones.
“We need to speak,” she said, and the words struck with no preamble.
Varian turned to her slowly. “You already made your opinion known after the council met.”
“That was the edge,” she said, walking toward him. “This is the blade.”
He sighed, but his posture didn’t waver. “You think Kaen is guilty.”
“IknowKaen is involved.”
