My gaze travels over him, tracing every tear in his tunic, every raw edge where my magics cut through. The sight of it twists something deep in my chest—guilt, fear, maybe both.
I swallow hard.
“Thane, I’m so sorry.” The words tumble out, rushed and uneven. “I never meant to hurt you. My emotions got the best of me—like they always do.”
The guilt hits hard, sharp and choking. “I was reckless. I lost control, and . . . I hurt you. And you were right there. Of course you were.”
He exhales, slow and measured, dragging a hand along his thigh like he’s trying to wipe the memory away with it.
“I’ll be fine,” he says quietly.
But he won’t meet my eyes. And that says everything.
The tension in his posture, the way he avoids holding my gaze for too long—it tells me more than his words ever could.
“I was scared,” I admit, the words catching. “Not just of what happened . . . but of what itmeans.What if next time, I can’t stop myself in time? What if—”
“But youdidstop,” he says, cutting in gently. “That means something.”
Just like what Kieran said.
I take it in, turning the words over in my mind like a stone between my palms. My fingers curl into the dirt, runningthrough the cool, familiar texture. The earth always grounded me—my home, my village, my parents. It’s been my anchor for as long as I can remember.
And now . . . it isn’t enough. Not when the storm is coming fromwithin.
The fear coils tighter in my chest, pressing hard against my ribs, louder than reason. Stronger than the steadiness the dirt once gave me. My magics hum just beneath my skin—restless, volatile. I feel untethered, like I could lose control at any moment.
I swallow hard, forcing my hands to stay still in the soil.
Hold on. Ground yourself.
But it doesn’t help. Not this time.
What happens next time? What if I can’t stop it? What if I don’t?
For the first time in my life, the earth doesn’t calm me. It only reminds me of everything I’ve lost. Of everything I’ve become.
I can feel Thane’s eyes on me—the weight of them. Watching. Assessing. Always.
And something inside me snaps.
“You always do this,” I say, voice sharp and rising. “You stand there, watching, waiting—like I’m something dangerous you need to contain. Like I don’t alreadyknowthat!”
He keeps looking, considering. Like he’s deciding how much of himself he’s willing to give away in this moment. His jaw shifts, just slightly, before he finally speaks. His voice is lower now, rougher.
“I don’t think you’re dangerous, Amara. I know exactly how powerful you are. And I know you don’t see it yet—the potential of your powers.”
A breath.
“I am in awe of you.”
His words stun me. Of all the things to say . . . that wasn’t oneI was prepared for.
Not from him.
But before I can respond—before I can ask what hereallymeans—his hand twitches. Like he’s about to move.
About to reach for me.
