I see it again—the blast, the chaos, the way the earth cracked open beneath me. The way Thane’s knees nearly buckled. Even with all the protective enchantments, even with the wards strung across the magics training ground, even with Thane—the Warlord and most powerful fire wielder—my magics got through.
And they hurt him.
“You didn’t,” he says without hesitation. “You gave in. There’s a difference.”
Then, softer, “That day . . . when your Elemental powers merged,” he says, voice low, even, “did you think I was afraid for myself?”
My breath hitches. I don’t answer.
He leans, eyes locked on mine. “I wasn’t.” A beat. “I was afraid foryou.”
The words land heavy with truth.
“You looked terrified—not of what you’d done. Not really. I knew you were afraid of what it meant. Of what you believed itmade you.”
Then—quietly, without ceremony—he reaches out and pulls me closer, settling me back against his chest. His arms circle my waist and I sink into his warmth.
“You know,” I say softly, my gaze resting on the stillness of the lagoon. “I was mad at you that day.”
“I know.” A pause. His chest rises and falls beneath me. “I was jealous. And I let that influence me. But then I saw it—the Elemental powers building in you, so I pushed.”
His voice is steady, but there’s something heavier beneath it.
“You needed to know what you were capable of. I’m just . . . sorry I did itthatway.”
I listen to his confession, and I can’t lie—there’s a flicker of heat in my chest. Not anger . . . not really. Just a pressure. A knot that’s been sitting there, quiet and heavy, waiting to be acknowledged.
Because I understand. Ido.
He was jealous. He pushed me. And it worked.
I exhale slowly, watching the fireflies drift across the lagoon—their glow soft and slow, like the night is trying to soothe something raw inside me.
“I understand why you did it,” I say quietly. “But that doesn’t mean it didn’t sting.”
His arms stay around me, steady, giving me the space to say what has been weighing on me for days.
“And yes, I was scared that day,” I say quietly. “Not just of what happened—but of what it meant.”
A pause.
“And yeah . . . right now, I’m still a little mad at you—for letting your emotions into the training ring.”
I tilt my head back, resting it against his shoulder. “But looking back . . . maybe I wouldn’t have done it without that push.”
I feel his breath near my ear.
“I’m still a little mad.” My lips twitch. “But I’m not holding it against you.”
He presses a soft kiss to the top of my head. “I appreciate you not holding it against me.”
His voice is low, wrapped in something almost tender . . . and dangerous. “But here’s the deal.”
Another kiss, feather-light against my hairline.
“I can’t promise my emotions won’t bleed into the ring again,” he says quietly. “I care about you too damn much to stand there like a statue while you’re in danger.”
He presses another kiss to my temple—gentle, but full of fire.
