CHAPTER 21
NIGHT IN FATÀN
Captain Markus Bastille. Thirty-one years exemplary service to House Thorne. Awarded the Silver Dagger for bravery.
–Thorne Military Record, Southern Isles War, Battle of Ilago
Kara had fallen asleep an hour ago. Sebastian didn’t understand how. She lay peacefully on her side, curled towards the warmth of the hot spring, her breathing deep and even. Like they weren’t fugitives with a death sentence hanging over them.
Sebastian sat with his back to a pine trunk. The green Hale cloak around his shoulders felt wrong – like wearing enemy colours. But his sword was within arm’s reach. He told himself the vigil was habit. But it wasn’t – it was fear. His ears strained for the faintest sound of pursuit – the snap of a twig under a boot, the scrape of steel leaving a sheath, the low murmur of voices carrying through the trees. Since crossing the border, he’d been certain they were heading into trouble. The Council would assume, rightly, that they were heading for the Fire Shard. Fatàn lay between Hale and Thorne – a perfect killing ground.
Years of military training made the assessment automatic: fifty men minimum for a proper net. They’d come from the Thorne side, split into three groups to cover the main routes. His father would most likely send Captain Markus – the man was thorough, methodical. Wouldn’t rush. Wouldn’t underestimate. Which meant they had maybe a day. Two at most.
His jaw clenched. The man who’d taught him to fight was sending soldiers to hunt him down.
The trial would be theatre – a way for Vallenna to maintain unity after executing Thorne’s heir. He wondered if his father had given theorder himself, or if the Council had forced it. Not that it mattered. The result was the same.
He’d be dead.
He could almost see them out there in the dark. Closing in. Thorne soldiers were here in Fatàn. Or would be soon. Of that, he had no doubt.
But it wasn’t only them on his mind.
His gaze kept drifting back to Kara. After everything she’d done – Gods, only yesterday, the betrayal, the intrusion – he shouldn’t care that she’d been hurt this morning. And yet the guilt, the shame at raising a hand to her, however unintentionally, had plagued him all day. The memory of her gasp, the way she’d stumbled back cradling her wrist. The shock in her face before she’d hidden it.
He’d hurt her.
Not in battle. Not even in defence. In a moment of pure, stupid instinct. Because he’d been half-asleep and she’d startled him and he’d lashed out like she was a threat.
Like she was an enemy.
But she wasn’t acting like one. Not now.
She’d simply healed herself and acted as if it had never happened. No recrimination. No fear. He wasn’t used to that level of forgiveness – and it had softened something in him.
Then to find out her father had done the same. And she’d just shrugged it off:he hadn’t done it before.
Maybe. Maybe not.
All he knew was that the first thing he’d wanted to do was to hunt down Alaric Hale and show him exactly what happens to men in Thorne who hurt women. The second thing he’d wanted to do was not let Kara see that. He didn’t think she’d appreciate him throwing her father through a wall. The control on Kara from House Hale was clearly more than he’d ever understood. But still she’d stayed. Helped him hide. Even laughed with him, like they weren’t running for their lives. And when their magic had met... it felt right, like it belonged there.
Like she belonged there.
The thought stopped him cold.
Too easy. Too dangerous.
And it wasn’t just the magic, or that he found her attractive – though he had from the start. It was the way she met his jibes without flinching. The way her smile caught him off guard every single time. Unsettling him, as it had in the Arcalon. On the mountaintop.
Stop thinking about her.
The Shards in his pack seemed heavier tonight. Or maybe that was his imagination. But he swore he felt them – a low thrumming beneath his ribs, a pull inside his chest. Getting stronger the closer they came to the final Shard – like they knew. They wanted to be whole. He was certain of that. The question hit him again. Why had the Arcanth chosen him? Of all people? He had no answer. But the Shards demanded it of him anyway. He needed to focus, not think about Kara. Be smart. Practical.
I’ll check the perimeter.
Sebastian got to his feet, careful not to make noise, and moved to the edge of their camp. The forest was dark beyond the stream, and he scanned the tree line, listening, watching for movement. A branch creaked overhead. Just the wind. But it sent a prickle down his spine all the same.
Then nothing.
