“You are not going to break,” I say—fierce, certain.
I feel his face press into my hair, as if burying himself and his fears.
I press my lips to his broad chest to ease him . . . the bond . . . me.
“We will figure it out. We have time. Valen said it isn’t the madness—not right now. I believe this in my bones.”
He exhales then, long and slow, the sound fraying at the edges. But I feel it through the bond—he doesn’t believe me.
Then, so quiet I almost miss it—
“I don’t know how.”
I lift my head slightly, my heart tightening.
“How to what?” I whisper.
He hesitates. A breath. Another crack in the armor.
Then, softer, “How to let myself believe that’s true.”
I tilt my head back a little more, studying him in the moonlight—the way the shadows slip across his face, the way his jaw tenses, like he’s bracing for a blow that never comes.
“You’ve spent your whole life preparing to fight this alone,” I say gently.
His jaw tightens further.
“Because I thought I had to.”
“And now?” I ask, my voice barely above a breath.
He exhales, slow and heavy, the sound dragging through his chest.
“Now . . . ” A pause. “Now, I don’t know what to do with you.”
A small, tired smile tugs at my lips—tender and fierce and aching all at once.
“You’ll figure it out.”
Then—there’s a shift. The bond tightens suddenly, sharpand jarring. And through it, I feel it—his fear. Raw. Terrifying. Searing through him like a blade he can’t pull free.
Even before he speaks—I know.
“What if something happens to you because of this fucking curse?”
The words tear out of him. Not the Warlord’s voice. Just a terrified, grieving man who’s already lost too much.
“I don’t know,” I whisper back. “But what if the bond helps us navigate it? That’s a possibility too.”
The words hang there—bare. Honest. Unvarnished.
“I don’t know what’s coming. I don’t know what the curse will do or what the future holds.” I tilt my head, brushing my cheek lightly against his chest. “But I do know this—”
I feel his breath hitch. The bond clings, tightens.
I trace a slow circle on his chest. “I’m not afraid.”
His fingers curl gently against my spine. His breath, uneven and rough a moment ago, has settled.
