Her voice cracked the spell. The bond snapped open, and the storm hit.
Flame and Aether collided, raw and violent. Thaelyn screamed, thrown forward by the force of it. The light turned violet-white, devouring the shadows until the room was dark. Elyria cried out, struggling to anchor them both. Kranon’s wards flared red-hot.
Thaelyn reached deep, searching for the thread. She couldn’t find it. She pushed harder.There you are,she said in a voice not of her own; it was deeper. She felt someone else take over her spirit. Something old, but familiar.
The room burst with a blast of raw Aether power. The sound of breaking glass filled the chamber. Then, silence.
When the light faded, Thorne’s chest was rising again, slow butsteady. The black taint had vanished from his skin. Thaelyn, trembling, sank to her knees, blood trickling from her nose; her body was limp.
Elyria was beside her in an instant. “She nearly destroyed and burnt down the entire wing,” she said, breath shaking. “But she saved them.”
Chapter
Thirty
The guest chamber was dim and still, warmed only by the low flicker of dragonstone lamps set into the curved walls. High arched windows filtered in a muted morning light, softened by storm-worn glass. The scent of lavender oil and old magic lingered, faint but ever-present.
Thorne hadn’t moved from the wooden chair at Thaelyn’s bedside in days. He had recovered quickly after she had healed him with her magic. She still hadn’t awakened.
His flying leathers hung open at the collar, his sword belt resting against the floor. Unshaven, sleepless, he sat slouched forward, one hand lightly curled around Thaelyn’s wrist, not to hold, just to feel the faint warmth of her skin. Her breathing was shallow but steady. Her lips held color, her features still drawn but serene in unconsciousness. The burn of Aether overload had wrung her dry, and the healers said she needed rest, nothing more.
Still, Thorne hadn’t left. He couldn’t.
The heavy wooden door creaked open. Queen Elyria stepped through in silence, her presence as striking as the first winter snowfall: beautiful, quiet, dangerous. She wore a flowing robe of silver and midnight blue, the fabric threaded with starlight sigils. She had recovered, and her eyes returned to their standard color, crystal grey rimmed in violet. She moved to Thaelyn’s still form and then to her son.
“She hasn’t stirred?” she asked gently.
Thorne shook his head. “Not once.”
Queen Elyria stepped beside him, glancing down at Thaelyn. Her fingers hovered just over the girl’s brow, brushing away a loose strand of hair. “She gave more than she knew she had. Aether responds to emotion, even if she hasn’t yet named it.”
He didn’t respond. His jaw clenched, but he didn’t let go of Thaelyn’s wrist.
The Queen’s gaze moved to her son. “Do you return her feelings?”
“I don’t know, but I feel something that I’ve never felt before, it’s ancient in nature,” he said quietly. “It grows stronger every day.” His eyes were still locked on the girl in the bed. A breath passed between them.
“I knew the moment Vornokh roared loud enough to split the sky when Thaelyn collapsed after the healing,” Queen Elyria said, folding her hands. “He has only ever made that sound once before. When Serenya was taken from him.”
Thorne looked up sharply. “You knew? About their Prime Bond?”
“I suspected,” she replied. “When Nyxariel chose her. When the sky cracked in stormlight, and you couldn’t breathe without Thaelyn near you when you were healing. We couldn’t move her out of the room. One of you stopped breathing each time we tried.”
She moved to the arched window, gazing out toward the royal gardens where the wind swept golden leaves across the marble paths.
“I haven’t told your father about my healing powers,” she continued softly. “Nor Kaen. You must never let them know. They think only my visions help with the healing. You must also not let them know about the depth of your bond with her. Especially not Kaen. He will use it against both of you to gain control over the dragons or her power.”
Thorne’s expression darkened. “He hasn’t tried to get close to her.”
Queen Elyria turned back, her voice like steel wrapped in silk. “Keep him away. He was born with ambition in his blood and adark stain in his marrow. Your father feeds that darkness without meaning to. Kaen sees Thaelyn as power incarnate. He will try to find ways to charm her. To isolate her. To control her.”
“He’ll never get the chance,” Thorne said.
Elyria studied her son’s face for a long moment. “You’re no longer a boy in training,” she said at last. “And yet, this path ahead of you was not meant to be easy. You and Thaelyn were chosen by forces older than kings and thrones.”
Thorne frowned. “You believe the prophecy?”
She gave him a look that made the air in the room seem older, heavier.
