When I close my eyes, I see them—the shadows, curling, consuming. And gods, what if one day that’s all that’s left of me?
The bond flares once—sharp and aching—like it feels my greatest fear. Amara shifts faintly against me, her breath hitching, then it slows again.
Still, I can’t stop touching her. Because she’s real and she’s here in my bed. She is the only thing anchoring me to this world when everything else is slipping away.
“I love you,” I whisper.
Immediately, guilt drops in my chest like iron. I have no right to love her. No right to take her life from her by tying her to this curse. But I am a weak man completely enraptured by her spirit.
The bond flares again—sharp and electric—as if it wants her to hear what I can only reveal in the fading darkness. She stirs, a soft murmur escaping her lips, warm against my chest.
I freeze.
Her lashes flutter, her fingers twitching faintly where they rest against my ribs. She’s not awake, but she’s not fully asleep, either.
My heart hammers.
Did she hear me?
I hold still, barely breathing.
Then—a slow inhale, a quiet sigh. She settles back against me, drifting deeper into sleep. Unaware.
I let out a shaky breath, my hand fisting gently against her back. This is the closest I’ve come to saying what I’ve felt for months.
And gods help me, I am not ready for her to hear it yet.
I don’t know what she would say if she knew the depth of what I feel for her now. If she knew that she has undone me. She has become the one thing I can no longer live without. For the first time in my life—I want something for myself besides the end of this fucking war.
Her.
Outside, the world waits for us: the capital, the archives, the secrets we must uncover. But for now, I let myself have this.
I hold her and let myself fall.
Because right now, in these early morning hours,she’s mine.
And if that fucking curse takes me—gods, please—let me remember this.
AMARA
I wake slowly.
The room is still wrapped in that early hush—the kind that feels safe. Like the world hasn’t quite found us yet.
The first thing I notice is warmth. Thane’s arms around me, holding me close. His chest rising beneath my cheek in slow, rhythmic breaths. The familiar scent of smoke and leather.
Something that has become home.
For a moment, I don’t move. I let myself pretend there is nothing waiting for us outside this room.
No journey or prophecy.
No curse clawing back through bloodlines and memory.
Just this.
Just him.
