I knew that the three brothers were orphans, but I didn’t know much more than that.
“He walked straight into a spellfire line,” he continued, staring at the floor. “Didn’t raise a shield. Didn’t fight back. Didn’t… care.”
His jaw tightened, trembling with the memory. “He had no reason to live once my mother was gone. The bond gutted him. It left him a shell. And I—” He swallowed roughly. “I watched it kill him long before the war did.”
He clenched the carving tighter. “And now I…” His breath cracked. “I can feel something trying to form. Something I don’t want. Something I won’t allow.”
My chest tightened, but I pushed aside his words. They were words of pain, not logic and I wasn’t going to take them personally.
“You’re scared,” I whispered.
“No.” He snapped it too fast. Too hard. But after a long moment, in a quieter voice, he said, “Yes.”
I knelt in front of him. “Savla. Whatever you felt—whatever this is—I’m not your mother, and you’re not your father,” I murmured, wanting more than anything to cup his cheeks, but I held myself back. I couldn’t afford for him to push me away.
His eyes flashed, pained. “I can’t risk it.”
“You’re not risking anything,” I whispered.
“I’m riskingyou.”
My breath caught, but then he shut himself down completely. It was like dropping a metal shutter.
“It isn’t real,” he said stiffly. “Thebondisn’t—it’s not what you think. It’s just residual magick from working together. From stress or... or from proximity.” He forced a scoff. “It’s nothing.”
The bond pulsed—hard—as if offended. He ignored it.
I’d asked Zara about it. About the bond that formed between mates and she’d explained that in the beginning, it was just a tiny thing that pulls you together. But over time it would grow. Especially when you spent time together. Savla and I spentlotsof time together and the bond had grown into something that neither of us could ignore for much longer.
“I won’t let fate decide my life. Or yours.”
So he wasn’t rejectingme. He was rejecting the possibility of what we might be. My heart ached with the weight of it.
That was when Ribbon hopped forward and gently dropped another object between us. My sock.
Savla blinked at it, confused. “Why do you have her sock?”
I groaned. “He steals whatever he thinks someone needs. Last week he gave me one of your chisels.”
Ribbon croaked proudly.Savla stared at the sock, then at Ribbon, then at me and a strangled sound escaped him—half laugh, half disbelief.
“He’s…” He rubbed his face. “He’s absurd.”
“He’s comforting you,” I said softly.
Ribbon puffed up in agreement. Savla stared at the toad, and for a brief moment… he cracked.Just a little. A tiny, exhausted smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
But it was gone in an instant. He looked down at the carving that he was cradling again—ash smeared across the shape of my silhouette, his own half-covered. I tried to study it, but I could barely see it in his huge hands. What I saw of myself though... it was beautiful.Iwas beautiful. Through his eyes.
“This can’t happen,” he whispered.
My breath hitched. “Savla…”
“I can’t let it,” he said, voice trembling. “You don’t understand. You think it’s destiny, or fate, or something hopeful.” He shook his head. “But it’s not. It’s acurseand I won’t drag you into it.” He stood abruptly, backing away from me. “Hanna, you need to go.”
The pain in his voice cut deeper than his words.I rose slowly. “If that’s what you want—”
“It’s what’s safest,” he whispered.
