His fingers close around mine. And for a heartbeat, we just stand there, hands joined, magics quiet.
And then—
“Nothing to see here!” Garrick bellows. “Get back to training!”
Jarek chimes in. “Be gone with you! Go lift something heavy!”
Rian moves among the soldiers with subtle authority, clearing the space with a calm authority that’s more forceful than shouting.
Captain Elaris steps in beside him, barking clipped orders, ushering staff back inside like a man trying to put a lid on a storm.
I watch as the crowd begins to thin. Curious eyes linger for a moment longer—then disappear behind doors and around corners.
I glance up.
Xaroth stands tall, wings flexing, obsidian scales gleaming in the fractured sunlight. He braces his legs and with a powerful push, he takes to the sky. The rush of wind from his wings ripples through the air around us, scattering dust, making the flames in nearby braziers flicker and sway.
Calryx follows close behind—her scales shimmer like water and starlight. She looks at me once more as she rises.
“We will speak more,”her voice touches my mind, warm and firm.“For now . . . listen to the Warlord with an open heart.”
A puzzled frown pulls at my brow, but I nod, trusting her.
That’s when I feel it. A gentle tug—not in the bond—but on my arm. His hand still holds mine and he’s pulling me closer. I fall into him like I’ve been waiting to do it forever. His arms wrap around me.
A shield. A promise. A release.
I push away the exhaustion, trying to focus on this moment, how he feels in my arms. I breathe in the scent of him—cedar and smoke and leather. Not just scent, but memory like home.
Thane leans down, breath warm against the curve of my ear. And in a voice so soft I almost don’t catch it, he whispers—“I’m sorry.”
And then, softer still, voice frayed, but certain, “I willneverwalk away from you again.”
His hand cups the back of my head, fingers steady, grounding me. Real.Here.
And I believe him.
INHERITANCE
TWENTY-FIVE
“There are rarely any true ‘coincidences’ and I believe this one is going to give us another important piece of this puzzle. We must leave as soon as possible, for Thane’s sake and for the sake of the realm!”
—VALEN’S JOURNAL
AMARA
I’ve never been inside Thane’s study before.
All our strategy sessions have taken place outside or in the war room—cold stone, hard corners, and Thane’s gaze tracking every move. But this place is different. Quieter.
The door clicks shut behind me. I stand still, caught off guard by the warmth. Not from the hearth—it’s empty. But the roomholds heat anyway. Subtle. Residual. Like sunlight clinging to skin at the end of a long day.
Bookshelves line every wall, packed tight with tomes in every size and shade—some leather-bound, some cracked with age, others marked with script in other languages I don’t understand. Between them, scrolls peek out like secrets half-kept. Trinkets and relics are tucked into corners: a dragon-scale paperweight, a weathered compass, a feathered token from the Air Clan’s highlands. None of it is decorative. All of it feels chosen. Intentional.
His desk dominates the far end of the room—broad and battered, covered in maps and half-unrolled scrolls. One corner has a dried ink stain. Another bears a deep gouge in the wood, as if someone once drove a dagger into it. I wouldn’t be surprised if it was a mid-argument desk stabbing.
For a moment, the image of the cracks in the ground our fused magics created flashes through my mind. The echo of what we did presses down; I squeeze my eyes shut, to will the picture away. What if our bond leaves scars like this? I open my eyes and glance at Valen. His expression is grave, but he quietly watches Thane.
