Valen slams his staff into the dirt.
“That’s enough.”
The command isn’t magics, but it might as well be. I go still, my power fading on instinct, the energy slipping away between us.
Valen plants his staff, then crosses his arms like he’s settling in to wait out a storm.
“Speak your mind, girl.” His voice is even, patient, but firm.
I scowl. “There’s nothing to speak about.”
He lifts a brow, clearly unimpressed. “Oh, is that so?”
I exhale sharply, rolling my shoulders, preparing to call the magics back, to demand we keep going. “I just need to focus.”
“No,” Valen corrects smoothly, “you need to stop pretending that whatever is gnawing at you isn’t affecting your magics.”
I bristle. Annoyed. Defensive. Exposed.
“That’s not—”
“It is.” He tilts his head, gaze sharp and unwavering. “And we’re not wasting any more time until you deal with it.”
I want to argue. Gods, I want to argue. But the way he looks at me—knowing, unshakable, like he’s already unraveled every thought twisting in my head—makes it impossible.
I exhale sharply, pressing my fingers to my temples, finally admitting what’s been clawing at the back of my mind.
“It’s Thane.”
Valen doesn’t react. Not immediately. He just watches me, like he already knew what I was going to say.
I shake my head, huffing out a breath. “The bond.”
The word tastes wrong on my tongue—like saying it aloud makes it too real.
Valen’s expression doesn’t change. He waits. Then—quietly: “And?”
I clench my fists, frustrated, not answering.
He nods slowly, thoughtful. “It bothers you.”
“Of course it bothers me, Valen!”
The words snap out of me before I can stop them.
“Because . . . ” I inhale sharply, pulse edging toward panic. “It’s not fair.”
The word lands wrong. Too soft. Too small. But it’s the truth, and it’s lodged in my chest like a stone.
“If it’s real—if it’s only him—what does that make me?” I shake my head, voice trembling. “I don’t want to be connected to him because of some magics neither of us understand. I want itto be because of—”
I stop. Because I don’t know how to finish that sentence.
Valen doesn’t push. He just watches me, waiting, giving me space to wrestle with something I don’t want to admit.
Finally, my voice comes softer, edged with something raw, unsteady. “And what if I never feel it, Valen?”
His gaze sharpens.
