My brows pull together. “And he’s leaving tonight? Alone?”
“If he hasn’t already left the grounds,” Theo says. “He’s stubborn enough to think he can weather anything on his own.”
There’s a beat of silence between us, stretching long enough that I feel compelled to fill it with something, anything. But before I can speak, Theo runs a hand through his blonde hair and gives a small, humorless laugh.
“And before you ask,” he says, more quietly, “Yes. He meant what he said.”
I stiffen.
The comment about him taking an interest in a Whitlock sibling.
Theo folds his hands in front of him, the gesture too controlled to be casual. His pale eyes, though unfocused, somehow still manage to pin me in place, like he’s reading something in the air around me.
“Sebastian isn’t wrong,” he says gently. “I do care. You just happened to walk into our conversation at the very worst moment.”
Heat creeps up my neck. I don’t know what to say, don’t know what I’m supposed to say, so I stay quiet. Theo doesn’t push. Instead, he sighs and leans back slightly, as though settling into a truth he’s already accepted.
“But this isn’t about me,” he adds. “Or even Sebastian. Not right now.” His voice softens even further. “You’re looking for her.”
I tense.
Harper.
Theo rises slowly from his chair, the movement steady but deliberate, as though he’s conserving energy forsomething heavier. The dim lanterns cast a soft glow across his features, making every line of his face look more thoughtful, more perceptive. His pale eyes tilt slightly toward me, searching the room by sound, by breath, by instinct.
“You’re worried,” he murmurs again, softer this time. “I can hear it in every breath you take.”
My jaw tightens reflexively, but I don’t bother denying it. The truth is too heavy in my shoulders to hide.
Theo steps closer, not enough to crowd me, but close enough that the warmth of him reaches across the narrow space between us. His hand lifts, hesitates for a moment in the air, fingers poised in a question he doesn’t quite voice.
“May I?” he asks quietly.
The room feels strangely smaller, the air thicker. I swallow once, instinctually nodding.
His fingertips touch my cheek first, featherlight, tracing along the angle of my jaw as though mapping the tension held there. His hand is warm, warmer than I expect, and when he brushes a strand of hair back to better feel my expression, something in my chest stumbles.
He exhales softly.
“You’re carrying too much,” he murmurs. “Your whole face feels… tight. Like you haven’t let yourself breathe since you came to Vireldan.”
I close my eyes for a moment, just long enough to steady myself. Theo’s thumb brushes the space beneath my eye, lingering a second longer than necessary. Not accidental. Not bold. Just… searching.
He draws his hand down to the corner of my mouth, barely grazing the skin there, and something electric crawls down my spine at the careful intimacy of it.
His touch isn’t invasive.
It isn’t claiming.
It’ssimply… knowing.
“Liam,” he says, almost in a whisper, “you don’t have to hide your worry from me.”
My breath comes out uneven. His hand drifts lower, fingertips brushing the line of my throat, feeling the way it shifts with a swallow I fail to suppress. The gesture is meant to read my tension, but it does something far more unsettling.
I open my eyes, finding his unfocused ones turned toward me with a steadiness that feels almost startling.
“You care for her deeply,” he continues, his palm settling briefly against the base of my neck before sliding away. “It’s written everywhere on you. In your breath. In the way you hold yourself. In the way your heartbeat changed when you heard her name.”
