Silence.
Then, Lyra leans against the bedpost, arms still folded, voice too casual. “What are you resisting so much?”
I stiffen. “I’m not resisting.”
She tilts her head. “You are.”
I scoff.
She laughs—short, sharp. But there’s no humor in it.
“You’re making something out of nothing. Mara, you ran off the training field like the fucking shadows themselves were chasing you.” A pause. “Was it because Thane moved before you did? Because hefeltit before you even reacted?” Her voice softens just slightly. “You’ve been off for days. You think no one’s noticed, but I have.”
I glare at her, refusing to relent. “That’s not what happened.”
She waits—and says nothing. Letting the silence hang heavy between us.
My chest tightens, pulse hammering in my throat. Finally, I exhale, dragging a hand down my face.
“I don’t know,” I mutter, pressing my palms to my eyes.
And it’s the truth. I don’t know why it terrifies me. Why it feels like a loss of control. Like something shifting beneath my feet that I can’t stop. It’s just one more thing—one more impossible weight on the long list of everything that’s happened since the attack on our village.
So why this? Why now? Why does this feel heavier than everything else? Why does the thought of Thane knowing what I’ll do before I do make me sick?
But Lyra just shakes her head.
“No, you do know.” Her voice is softer now. “You just don’t want to say it.”
The next day, training continues. The shadow wraiths are faster. Smarter. Valen is pushing harder, summoning more, making them move unpredictably.
I dodge, fire flickering in my palm, wind curling around my body as I block, counter, move.
The air shifts.
A Fellborn wraith appears behind me, silent, too close, too fast. I don’t see it. I don’t sense it. But Thane does.
Before I even know there’s a threat—he moves.
His fire ignites, a roaring inferno searing through the air, striking the Fellborn wraith down in an instant. I barely manage to spin around in time to see the last flicker of it dissolve into smoke.
I stagger back, breathless, eyes snapping to Thane. He’s not even looking at me. Not yet. His blade is still raised, fire licking up his forearm, his jaw tight.
Then, slowly, he turns. Our eyes meet—and I know. It hits like a truth I didn’t want to see. Because I wasn’t scared. I wasn’t frozen. I wasn’t slow. I just . . . hadn’t seen it yet.
But he had.
He felt it before I did. He moved before I even knew I needed him. And that—that lack of control is what terrifies me.
The training ground holds its breath.
Lyra, Taila, and Nessa are all training with us today, but none of them say a word. Their swords drop to their sides—no longer in ready stances. Not disengaged, just . . . watching. Every one of them looking at me.
Valen stands at the edge, staff in hand. Still. Measuring. Waiting.
And Thane?
Thane is still looking at me—his smoke-gray eyes locked onto mine, intensity and intention swirling with those golden flecksI’ve gotten lost in before.
