“Yeah. He asked. I said yes.”
Kael blinks slowly, processing.
“Then the bond?—”
“Is real. And growing stronger by the minute, at least I think so,” I snap, then lower my voice. “Now, about this skeleton form?—”
“Actually, it’s written that his true form is nigh on fifteen hands high,” Kael cuts in. “But only if the Lord of Fire receives his viyella’s boon.”
I turn toward him fully. “You mean me?”
“Yes. If your zareth is true.”
I swallow. That word again. Zareth.
It hums through me like heat lightning in my veins.
“How will he or I know?”
Kael doesn’t answer.
Alaric shifts uncomfortably.
“Ha, you don’t even know! You know, you should both tell your viyellas what you just tried to pull,” I say, stepping forward now, heart pounding. “Seriously. That’s not just uncool—it’s messed up.”
Alaric’s jaw clenches.
“Thorne did the same thing, you know. Told my Jules I was tricking her.”
“That’s because you were tricking her,” Kael mutters, not looking at him.
“Okay, wow.” I hold up a hand. “Let’s not get into who tricked who. That’s not the point. The point is, Thorne hasn’t tricked me. Not once. He told me the truth. Even when it would’ve been easier not to.”
I pause, breath catching as the wind rises, slicing across the camp like a living thing.
Hot and spicy, laced with iron and smoke and something wild beneath the surface.
They feel it too.
Both Lords still, expressions shifting.
Surprise, confusion, something close to awe flickering across their faces.
I wonder if they can sense Thorne the way I seem to. If they feel his interest flaring now, alive and rooted in my chest like a second heartbeat.
Because I do. God, I do.
And it terrifies me.
Because it means I’m not confused.
Not manipulated.
Not naïve.
I’m choosing this.
“Look,” I say again, softer this time. “I get that your experiences with your viyellas have shaped how you see this. I appreciate your concern—really. But I assure you, I know exactly why I’m here—to help save Nightfall.”
