Kael nods once. “And they with you.”
I look between them—these two Lords who once would have burned the world for power above all else.
Now standing here in the dust of The Ember Vein, speaking of wives and unborn children and the ache of distance.
“Is this what you wanted for us?” I ask, voice low. “When you first devised your scheme, Alaric? Human mates. True zareths. Bonds that grow until they choke you.”
For a heartbeat, his illusions slip entirely.
I see the man beneath—the exhaustion, the relief, the quiet, savage joy—and I realize shockingly, I want that, too.
“No,” he says simply. “I wanted to cheat destiny and win the game.” His mouth twists. “Instead, destiny cheated me back—and handed me everything I did not know I craved.”
I hate how that resonates.
Because there is a part of me—a deep, ashamed, fiercely guarded part—that wants the same.
Wants Delia to see past the bone mask and fire and ruin. To see me and choose me still.
To stay for more than Nightfall.
To be more than a bargain.
More than a boon.
I hate how much I want it.
I hate that I am afraid I might already have it.
And more so, that I might not deserve it.
“I do not know if I want Delia to own me like this,” I admit finally, the words tasting like ash and confession. “I set out to find a mortal to bind. Nothing more. Now, I…” I exhale, watching embers spark at my fingertips and drift away. “Now I am not sure where the boon ends and she begins.”
Kael’s expression softens, surprising me. “That is how you know it is real.”
I sneer. “Real or not, it changes nothing. I still must protect The Ember Vein. I still must keep the crown from Idris’ reach. I still must ensure Nightfall does not unravel.”
“Yes,” Alaric says. “But you no longer do it alone.”
We stand there for a moment, the three of us, on the lip of the mine that feeds all dreams.
Above us, the Gemini Moon hangs heavy—half bone, half rust, casting doubled light over the camp.
Below us, the tunnels breathe with heat and magic, and danger.
Beside us, the wind shifts.
I catch it then—faint but unmistakable.
Her scent.
Ash and caramel and something new, blooming at the edge of my awareness like fresh flame.
Mine.
I square my shoulders, letting the bone mask creep just beneath my skin, ready to rise when needed. The ground trembles faintly as Dagan begins his work deeper below, shoring up the tunnels.
“Enough,” I say. “We go.”
