But the only war that matters right now is the one happening between Thane and me.
His jaw is tight, his stance rigid, his smoke-gray eyes burning with barely restrained fury.
“You don’t fly alone.”
The words hang between us, heavy, final, settling over me like a chain I refuse to wear.
I press my hands against the blanket. Gather what little strength I have left and force myself upright even as my body protests.
“You don’t get to decide where I go, when I fight, when I fly! You don’t get to tell me what to do!”
His gaze sharpens, his hands flexing at his sides like he’sphysically holding himself back. “That’s not what I am doing.”
“No?!” I throw my arms out. Frustration rips through me like a wound reopening.
I wince as the pain bites down.
“Then what exactly is it about?! Because all I’m hearing is that you think I need permission to move, to fight, to breathe—”
“You think this is about you being the Spiritborn?!” he snaps, his voice suddenly sharp, like flint striking steel.
My breath catches, thrown off by the force of it.
“Yes,” I spit. “It is about me! I’m the Spiritborn! I’m the one meant to stop the Shadow Forces, the one meant to end this war, and you—” I push forward as much as I can, glaring up at him. “You just want to keep me under your control like I’m some kind of weapon you can wield!”
His breathing is steady, too steady, like he’s trying to keep something locked down. His smoke-gray eyes don’t waver, don’t soften, don’t give me anything. But I see the way his fingers flex at his sides. Like he wants to grab and shake me.
But he doesn’t.
Instead, his voice drops lower. Steadier. Dangerous in its restraint.
“You don’t fly alone.”
The words are quieter this time, but they sink deeper, threading through my ribs like something cold.
“You don’t get to decide that,” I spit out.
“I do.” His voice hardens. “I’m the commander. If they attack you again, there won’t be a realm left to save.”
I barely hear him—I’m too caught up in my own frustration, my own anger, my own need to be seen as something more than this prophecy, more than the expectations they’ve all forced onto me. I shake my head, pushing myself not to let exhaustion take over.
“You think this war stops if something happens to me?” Iscoff. “You think the world just crumbles if I fall?”
His eyes flash, something dark passing through them so fast I almost miss it.
“Yes.”
The answer hits me like a blow. Because he says it with the kind of certainty that terrifies me.
His jaw clenches, his grip tightening at his sides.
I expect him to keep fighting me on this, to argue, to demand compliance, but instead, he exhales sharply, turns on his heel, and strides toward the door.
Over his shoulder, his voice is tight and controlled, he says, “Get some rest.”
I glare at his retreating back.
The room feels too quiet after Thane leaves, the air thick with everything he didn’t say.
