Page 158 of A Reign of Chromes & Shadows

He decided he needed to.

Jay’s insecurities were a dangerous thing; left unchecked, they would drive him straight into further injury.

“My advice would be to walk tomorrow,” Rain added gently. “Try for a slow jog on Gildsday. We need you to take care of yourself.”

Jay’s aura flickered again, the same ragged concoction of guilt, shame, longing and fear.

Rain swallowed hard.

“You’re not a burden, by the way,” he said, voice low but firm. “None of us would be here if it wasn’t for you and Wren. So, you don’t need to push yourself to prove anything, because you have nothing to prove.”

He felt Jay’s breath falter.

Felt the way those words hit him, like a balm and a blade at once.

“We love you…” Rain’s voice wavered, just slightly. “And we hate to see you hurting.”

He offered a tight, fragile smile— the kind that didn’t reach his eyes—then released his grip.

The pain slid out of him like a tide receding, leaving behind a hollow ache that wasn’t physical at all.

Rain stood, stuffing his hands deep into his pockets, shoulders curling inward as though bracing against a cold wind. His heart sat high in his throat, thick and heavy, threatening to choke him.

He turned away.

“Thank you,” Jay called after him, voice small, meek, almost swallowed by the open field.

Rain lifted a hand in acknowledgement; a silent gesture, a half-hearted wave, but he didn’t turn around.

He couldn’t.

If he saw Jay’s face right now. Truly saw the regret, the softness, the sadness in his features, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to walk away at all.

So, he kept moving.

Hands in pockets.

Jaw clenched.

Heart breaking quietly beneath the morning sun.

Chapter 44

Intense rainfall hammered against the roof of the car; each drop a sharp percussion that vibrated through the metal frame. The storm mirrored Rain’s mood with uncanny precision; wild, relentless, impossible to ignore. A stark contrast to the clear summer sky that had greeted him only hours earlier.

He stared out the window, though he wasn’t really seeing anything. The streets of Nilantra blurred into streaks of grey and muted colour, distorted by the rivulets of water racing down the glass. Buildings, streetlamps, passing cars; all dissolved into an indistinct wash, as though the world outside had been painted in watercolour and left out in the rain.

His mind wasn’t in the car.

It wasn’t in the city.

It wasn’t even in the present.

It was still with Jay.

He replayed their brief exchange over and over, dissecting every word, every flicker of emotion, every hesitation. He turned the conversation around in his mind like a stone he couldn’t stop worrying between his fingers. It was easier to focus on that—on the ache, on the confusion—than on the confrontation waiting for him at the palace.

The looming encounter with his father sat like a weight in his stomach, but introspection was a welcome distraction. Painful, yes. But familiar. Manageable. Something he could hold onto.