Chapter twenty-two
A Flicker in the Veil
-Kael-
In the sparring ring, Kael caught it — the way her strikes landed harder than needed, her mind elsewhere.
The flick of her wrist was off. Subtle. A half-second too slow, a breath caught too long in her throat. Maris had been getting sharper, more fluid, a blade polished by pressure. But this morning… she faltered. He landed a hit to her ribs, nothing cruel, just enough to mark where her guard slipped and the sound she made wasn’t just winded.
It was distant. Like she hadn’t expected pain at all. But she straightened quickly — jaw tight — eyes flaring. But she didn’t snap at him like she usually did. No curse. No flared nostrils. Just a haunted silence.
Kael lowered his sword. “You’re distracted.”
She shook her head. “I’m not.”
He could feel it radiating beneath the surface of her skin — an edge of her presence that hadn't been there before, charged with confusion and something else he couldn't name.
Kael took a step forward, testing her tension.
Nothing.
Not the usual bristle of pride or venom.
Just that same faraway, veiled look.
Like she’d seen something in a dream and couldn't to let it go.
By midday, during her spell work drills, the truth became harder to ignore.
What she'd been about to do before was only a shadow of this. It was as if she was gifted a clarity within her magic.
No more steady increments of light. But in bursts, magic leaping from her hands in ragged waves, brilliant and untamed.
She shattered a practice ward that should have taken her another month to master. Her fingers trembled afterward, but she didn’t even seem surprised.
Valea watched with a narrow gaze. Riven crossed his arms beside her, silent as stone.
Kael stood with Corin just outside the circle, unreadable. “It’s blooming,” he murmured.
Corin arched a brow. “Or bursting.”
Dinner came with little appetite.
Maris wore a shade of blue he hadn’t seen before, almost mist-colored, like the skies over the edge of the world or the sea. She looked beautiful. Remote. She hadn’t met his eyes since morning.
They dined in their private chambers just the two of them, as had become their ritual. But tonight, she only picked at her food.
Kael set down his goblet. “You’re quiet.”
“I’m tired,” she said, not unkindly.
“You’ve fought harder and smiled through worse.”
She didn’t look up.
A pause stretched between them like a wound.
Kael leaned back in his chair, the candlelight catching the edge of his fangs as he studied her. “Did something happen?”
