“What else do you know?” I ask, unable to let my curiosity relent.
She turns to Kael, eyes penetrating, as if unfurling his soul right here, “I think the question is—what doesheknow?”
Kael winces, visibly flinching under the weight of her gaze, but remains silent and stoic.
“What did the winds sing to you, Sky?” Nehvara presses.
I will protect Elyssara at all costs. I remember the truths the winds sang to Kael. I remember the way his devotion to my safety made the walls around my heart submit to him.I remember.
Kael closes his eyes, tips his head back and exhales deeply, as if steeling himself for whatever comes next. “The winds told me that I would need to destroy Elyssara,” he pauses, hesitating on the words unspoken, and I think my chest might cave in. “Or she’d remake the world.”
The world around me blurs, and my breathing turns ragged and frantic as truths collide.
“What?” I pant, unable to reconcile what I’m hearing. A silent scream tears through my mind. The words echo in the marrow of my bones.Destroy me?
Kael turns to me, grabbing my hands in his, “Look at me, El. Look at me,” he commands, voice a desperate plea.
Tears roll freely down my cheeks, and I try to pull my hands from Kael’s, but his grip is unwavering. “I don’t care what is written in the Stars, Elyssara,” his voice thick with emotion. “I will tear down every star in the fucking sky. I will defy them every day for the rest of my life if it means never hurting you.” I lift my gaze to his, chest heaving in devastation, “I will rewrite the Stars with my bare hands because I will never destroy you. I will never hurt you. You are mine, from now until the Stars claim me.” His voice is conviction incarnate and an ember stays alight in my heart.
A sob tumbles out of me—I can’t bear it. I can’t take the ache in my chest.I scream. I scream for the walls that he has torn from my heart, that threaten to rebuild. I scream for the lies intended to protect me, that annihilate me later. I scream for everything I feel for this man, that is too much for my wounded heart to hold.
Kael squeezes my hands, desperately trying to keep me tethered here—to this moment, this place,him. I still, for just a heartbeat, locking eyes with the man who can cut me deeper than any blade.
The scream dies in my throat, the firelight flickering through the veil of my tears. And in the quiet that follows, his voice finds me.
Soft. Broken. Undeniable.
“I love you, Elyssara. I think I’ve always loved you, even before I knew it. And I will never stop.” The words are a vow. A promise. An answer to an invitation. An anchor in the middle of a storm.
I whimper, crumbling into his arms like a child’s doll.
Sobs wrack my body, purging my pain, my heartache.
Because despite myself, Kael is The Sky, and I knowhomeis in his arms.
CHAPTER EIGHTY-TWO
KAEL
I holdher in my arms until every tear has been shed, because I know I’ve hurt her. But I’d do it again if it meant getting this time with her without her seeing me as her destroyer.
I know I’m a selfish bastard—I fucking know it—but I don’t regret it. I won’t repent for giving us time to feelthis.
The trembling has stopped, and the last tear has fallen, but still, she lies in my arms beside Nehvara’s fire. I’ve stroked her hair, traced idle circles on her back, and assured her again and again that I will never destroy her. She will never fall at my hand. I might be fucking insane, but I will battle every star in the sky of this forsaken land to save her if I have to.
The stillness is disturbed by the gentle clang of Nehvara’s necklaces as she moves towards us at the fire again. She picks up the kettle hanging over the fire and refills our mugs. “Ididsay you’d need it,” she teases softly, though there’s no bite in her words.
I let out a breath that’s not quite a laugh, not quite anything at all, but Elyssara doesn’t move.
I know she needs time with this, but we need answers.Ineed answers. “So tell me—who should I believe? The sighing winds of Skaedor’s Crest, or the prophecy that’s been choking us since dayone?” My question is genuine, but there’s no mistaking the bitterness in it.
Elyssara finally lifts her head, reaching for her mug, my question having piqued her interest. Her eyes are swollen and red, and her braid has unraveled, strands falling wild around her face—untamed and beautiful, like the storm she’s always been.
I have gone over this again and again with Therion.How can the prophecy say one thing, and the winds of truth say another?
“Both—the winds and prophecy say the same thing, Sky,” Nehvara answers smoothly. She stills, lifting her mug to her mouth and taking a long pull. “The problem is, you have not seen the full prophecy.”
Elyssara’s breath hitches, her back stiffening instantly.
