“Then we drink and pretend they are.”
I smile faintly. “Sounds about right. What about before the war? How did the Fire Clan celebrate?”
Thane exhales, rolling his shoulders—as if loosening some weight only he can feel.
“There were always celebrations in the capital. People filled the streets, fire dancers performed in the courtyards. When I was a small child, I remember the night sky lit up with fire—a display of magics from the strongest wielders meant to honor the Elemental gods.”
Something about the way he says it makes me glance at him again. “You say it like it’s someone else’s memory.”
His lips press together briefly before he speaks. “Because the capital didn’t feel like home—not after Kastiel died.”
The words hang there, heavy and unanswered. The Fire Clan may rule the realm, but Thane has never belonged to the gilded halls of the capital. He lived most of his life on the frontlines, war camps, outposts, battlefields. The kind of celebrations he speaks of were never his to enjoy.
I hesitate. “Have you ever actually celebrated the Solstice?”
He glances at me then, eyes unreadable in the dim light. “Not in the way you mean.”
His answer tightens something in my chest, but I don’t press.
We fall back into silence, the kind that lingers but doesn’t suffocate. The kind that settles between two people who understand what it means to carry something heavier than themselves.
Another beat of silence. Another flicker of fireflies in the tall grass.
I blink, clearing the haze of the moment, forcing myself tofocus. Because there’s something that’s been building inside me. Something I need to say.
“I’m not just surviving anymore.” The words tumble out.
Thane angles his head, studying me, but he doesn’t interrupt.
I breathe in slowly.
“When I first came to the outpost four months ago, I was barely keeping my head above water. I wasn’t thinking about the future. I wasn’t thinking about anything except surviving the day.”
My gaze drifts to the tree line—where the torchlight fades into darkness.
“But now?” My fingers curl at my sides. “Now I’m choosing this. I’m stepping into it—not because I have to.” I turn to him, meeting his eyes, steady. “Because I want to—needto. Either way, it’s mine.”
Something familiar flickers across his face—subtle, hard to name. That same calm sort of certainty from earlier, like he expected nothing less of me yet again.
I release a slow breath, feeling my own words land inside me. Finally mine.
I blink up at the sky one last time, then exhale softly. “I should get to bed.”
Thane glances at me. His features remain composed, but something steadies in his eyes—quiet. Certain. Like there is more there than he is willing to say.
“Lyra and Taila are probably waiting up,” I add, stretching my arms overhead before crossing them again—just because I need something to do with myself. “They’ll want to hear everything about tonight—especially the nobles.”
Thane huffs a quiet chuckle, shaking his head slightly. “Of course they will.”
I smirk. “I’ll spare them the parts about border politics. But if they want dramatics, I’m giving it to them.”
Thane’s chuckle deepens, the sound low and warm in the quiet night air.
We don’t rush. But after a beat, he falls into step beside me, arms loose at his sides, as we head back toward the barracks.
The outpost is quiet. Most of the torches have burned low, their golden glow flickering against the stone. The distant croak of frogs still rises from the lake beyond the walls, mingling with the soft rustle of the wind through the trees.
When we reach the barracks, Thane slows, stopping just outside the door. He tucks his hands into his pockets, posture loosening, shoulders rolling back slightly. It’s the most casual I’ve ever seen him.
