The weight of it all—his mother, the curse, the bond, the dragons—hangs in the air like smoke.
Every instinct in me wants to give him time—to let him breathe, to let him rest. But there are things I need to know. Especially now that it looks like we’re leaving for the capital.
I steady my breath.
“Thane . . . who exactly knows about the curse? Do your brothers?”
He knows who I mean. Garrick. Jarek. Rian. The men he grew up with, trained alongside, fought beside in battle, bled with, led, trusted. The men who have given him their loyalty and taken his council in turn. That’s why they’re more than just friends—they’rebrothersin every way that matters.
Iftheydon’t know—if he’s hidden this fromthem—then I know howalonehe’s truly been.
Thane’s gaze drops to the floor. He exhales slowly, the sound rough, frayed. Then he lifts his eyes to mine.
“No,” he says quietly. “They don’t know.”
Just those few words. But they land like a stone dropped into still water—rippling outward, deeper than the silence that follows.
The bond beats once, a solid knock against the inside of my ribs. Thane’s eyes cut to mine—he felt it too.
Tightness pulls across my chest, but I don’t let it reach my face.
“So they don’t know the real reason why your mother died?”
The question hangs—heavy with grief, and the silence of a boywho carried too much.
Thane doesn’t flinch.
“No.”
His voice is quiet. But something is unraveling behind it.
“They believe what everyone else does. That she died of an illness.”
His gaze shifts past me. Distant. Pulled somewhere far away.
“They didn’t see her in the last year of her life. They couldn’t. My father kept it contained . . . kept her hidden.”
A muscle ticks in his jaw.
“They never saw her decline. Never saw what the curse did to her mind.”
The bond between us thrums, low and steady. Heavy with all he’s not saying. And I feel it. How long he’s carried this—alone.
I glance at Valen. But his eyes aren’t on me. They’re locked on Thane—sharp, steady, assessing. Tracking every flicker of expression, every subtle shift in the way Thane holds himself. Every breath. Every hesitation.
Reading him the way only someone who’s known him for years could.
Out of the corner of my eye, I notice it again—the shadows shifting along the stone walls, alive in the flickering firelight from the sconces. Moving. Breathing. A quiet reminder of everything he carries inside him.
My heart hammers in my ears. Still, I ask—my voice soft, but steady.
“Are you able to wield the Shadow element? Summon it? Or does it just appear?”
The question hangs in the space between us, heavier than anything I’ve asked so far.
Thane’s expression shifts—small, but unmistakable. His brows pull together, a faint crease forming between them. One corner of his mouth tugs downward.
Almost sad . . . resigned.
