Page 311 of Elemental Awakening


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Valen doesn’t push me to say anything else. He straightens, brushing off his hands.

“We’re done for today. Get some rest.”

I try to push Valen’s words out of my head. I try to pretend they didn’t sink in, didn’t plant something deep inside me that I can’t seem to shake.

Over the next few days, no matter how hard I train; how far I fly; how much I punish myself trying to outrun it—the doubt stays. The seed of uncertainty has already been planted.

And it grows.

Even at night, when I’m with Thane. In his bed, wrapped in his warmth, his scent, the steady rise and fall of his breathing in the dark.

But there’s distance now. Not from him.

From me.

I’m the one who put it there.

And Thane doesn’t question it.

He doesn’t press, doesn’t push, doesn’t demand to know why I keep a fraction more space between us. I don’t know why—maybe it’s because of what he’s still holding back, maybe he sees I’m not ready. Either way, I’m glad for the space.

He just lets me be. He still holds me. Still rests his hand against my back, still runs slow fingers over my arm, still breathes against my skin like he needs the contact.

Is it the bond or him?

I don’t know.

And part of me also doesn’t want to know.

The bond lingers between us like a ghost, unspoken but ever-present. I don’t know if he’s waiting for me to bring it up. Or if he’s waiting for me to feel it.

So we just keep pretending. Pretending this silence doesn’t speak louder than either of us ever could. Again.

“You’re staring.”

I blink, dragged out of my thoughts. Lyra stands beside me, arms crossed, smirking like she knows something I don’t.

I frown. “What?”

“You. Are. Staring.”

I follow her gaze—right to Thane, who stands across the training field, speaking with Garrick.

My shoulders stiffen. “I’m not—”

“You are,” she cuts in smoothly, her grin spreading.

I scowl, crossing my arms. “I was just . . . thinking.”

Lyra tilts her head, studying me with that too-perceptive gaze I’ve never been able to shake.

“About what?”

I shrug, forcing nonchalance.

“Nothing important.”

She hums, unconvinced.