Callum’s mouth pulled tight as he glanced at him. “You think everything’s a game, don’t you?”
“And you think this isn’t.” Ronan adjusted the strap of his sword, fingers brushing the hilt. “That’s what you never understood,guardian. Every move, every secret, every life has been played on a board we didn’t build.” He tilted his head, gaze cutting through him. “It’s always been a game. The only difference is, I stopped pretending to play fair.”
Callum ripped a wilted flower from a bush as he passed, twirling it between his fingers, before it crumbled into dust. “Watching our world unravel while you stand there isn’t winning.”
The scowl on Ronan’s face twisted. “You mistake endurance for victory. I’m not winning. I’m surviving.”
Shaking his head, Callum buried the edge of pity beneath the frustration. “No. You’re hiding behind it. Behind your smoke and your silence and yourguilt. You want to talk about pretending?”
A muscle ticked in Ronan’s jaw. “Careful—”
Anger tightened Callum’s voice as he stepped closer. “At least I still remember what we’re fighting for. You’ve forgotten.”
Ronan’s eyes cut to him, a spark igniting behind the exhaustion. “I haven’t forgotten.” He stepped forward again, until their shadows merged. “I just stopped believing it would save us.”
“This is my kingdom we’re in, prince,” Callum responded. “Don’t forget whose ground you stand on now.”
Ronan’s laugh cracked. “Oh, I remember. You’ve mentioned it once or twice.”
“Then stop pretending you know what’s best for it.”
“I’m not pretending.” The words came clipped, like they’d been waiting too long. “I just don’t take orders from someone who can’t see past his own prize. Verena is dangerous. And every day that danger is fueled. You might have her love right now, but be warned, it will not last.”
Callum stopped walking. “You think I wanted this?” he asked. “You think I asked for any of it?”
Ronan’s expression didn’t shift. “I don’t really care what you want or what you asked for. We all have our burdens.”
Callum’s face cracked, into rage, grief, exhaustion, and then he moved. Fire sparked at his fingertips, glowing across his knuckles, the space around him hissing with heat.
“You would know all about burdens. You’ve made a career out of dropping them on everyone else.”
The darkness reacted before Ronan did, spilling from his palms, rising in a wave and twining for Callum’s throat. Callum didn’t flinch as his flame met smoke, each amplifying between them, eating the air until it stung to breathe.
Ronan moved into the heart of it. “You think you know me?” he said softly, deadly. “You’ve seen fragments.Piecesof a monster you can’t even begin to understand.”
The fire in Callum’s hand surged higher, brushing close enough to sear the edge of Ronan’s coat. “Then enlighten me,” he said. “Because all I see is a coward.”
Vapor constricted, answering the insult for him, winding tighter around Callum’s neck until his flame flared white-hot in response.
And for a heartbeat, the forest burned and choked at once.
Until the wind shifted and Ronan exhaled, the smoke breaking apart like ash. “You might have everyone else fooled right now, but one day your secrets will bleed through that fire of yours. And when they do,” he leaned in, the shroud winding up his own throat, “I might be the only savior you have left.” Ronan stepped back, cutting through the haze with a breath that sounded too close to a laugh. “Pray I’m still on your side when that day comes.” He brushed past him, but he didn’t get far.
Callum loomed behind him, still as stone.
The man’s fire had dimmed to embers, his hands hanging uselessly at his sides as he exhaled slow and unsteady, like it had been caged too long.
Still shaking, Callum’s hand dragged over his chest as if to calm the heart pounding there. Then he straightened his spine again, pride stitching the cracks before they could bleed.
By the time the light of the campfire reached through the trees, Ronan could already hear Verena’s voice cutting through. The kind of sound that found him, no matter how far he ran. The others were gathered close, the scent of smoke and strain clinging to them.
Verena was the first to look up, her gaze finding him easily. “You look like hel.”
“Good,” he grumbled as he passed. “Maybe I’ll blend in.”
Her eyes flicked past him, searching. “Where’s Callum?”
“He’s fine.” He turned back, watching her, the way she didn’t realize she was withholding breath, the way her brow arched at the edge of what was unsaid.
