And I hate that part of me knows he’s right. Hate that I would probably do the same. Hate that I’ve spent weeks trying to ignore something that might matter more than either of us truly understand.
I shake my head, voice sharp.
“That’s the problem with you, Thane. You always put duty first. You didn’t stop to ask if Iwantany of this—or if youwantany of this.” I step back, my fists clenched. “And maybe I’m tired of being the afterthought to whatever the realm needs.”
His jaw tightens, but he doesn’t interrupt.
“You want to figure this out?” I ask, voice low. “Then stop pretending like this is just about the war. Or the realm. Or what Valen and the scholars think weshouldbe.” I swallow hard. “Start asking whatyouwant. Because that’s the only way I’ll ever believe it.”
Thane looks at me like I slapped him. Like I tore the words out of him and threw them back in his face. He doesn’t speak. Doesn’t move. Just stares. Smoke-gray eyes dark and raw.
For a moment, the silence stretches between us. Heavy. Cracked open. A thundercloud swollen with rain—waiting to break, but refusing to fall.
Then—he exhales. Long. Slow. A breath he’s been holding something in for far too long.
“Ihaveasked,” he says finally, voice low. “Every godsdamned day I ask. And I still don’t know what I’m allowed to want anymore.”
His words land heavy. Real.
He takes another slow step toward me.
“You think I chose the bond?”
Another step.
“You think I wanted prophecy over choice?”
Thane stops in front of me. He doesn’t have to raise his voice to eclipse everything else. I can feel the heat coming off him in waves—like the fire he wields, barely restrained. His voice frayed at the edges now.
“I didn’t ask for this.” A beat. “But Idowant it. I want you.”
My shoulders tremble. I don’t move. I don’t breathe. And when I finally speak, my voice breaks.
“I don’t know how to believeanythinganymore.”
My parents are gone. The world says I’m the Spiritborn. The bond chose me. No one asked what I wanted or what I needed.
He doesn’t answer. Doesn’t try to fill the silence.
Just stands there, watching me with those striking eyes, still and steady. Always so steady.
I press a hand to my chest, curling my fingers in like I can hold something together. Like I can stop myself from falling apart.
“I’m losing pieces of myself just trying to hold onto what’sreal.” The words spill out—softer now, shaking. “I want to believe you—I do.”
I swallow hard. The burn behind my eyes makes it harder to speak. I finally say the words I haven’t been able to say to him before this moment.
“But I’m terrified that if I let myself fall . . . it won’t be real. It’ll just be the bond.”
I look at him and say the part that terrifies me the most.
“And I don’t know if I’ll survive that.”
Because it’s not just about him. It’s about everything I’ve lost—everything that made me feel likeme. And everything I’ve been forced to carry since.
I didn’t ask to be the Spiritborn. Didn’t ask for the bond. Didn’t ask for a destiny that carves my choices out from under me before I even know what’s mine.
So how am I supposed to trust this? How am I supposed to believe that what I feel for him—what he says he feels for me—isn’t just the bond whisperingyesbeneath his skin?
