Chapter 25
Savla
Iwoke slowly. I was the most warm and rested I’d been in my adult life.
Peaceful in a way I hadn’t felt since childhood—back before death and duty carved out whole pieces of me. For a moment, I let myself drift in that warmth just letting myself breathe it in.
Then I realized I wasn’t alone. There was a light weight beside me, along with a scent—wildflower, rosemary and something soft. A warmth that wasn’t the blankets.
My eyes shot open. Hanna Greyleaf was lying on the bed beside me.
Not touching me—barely an inch of space between us—but close enough that I could feel her breath on my arm. Close enough that her hair brushed my shoulder. Close enough that the bond pulsed so quietly I mistook it for my heartbeat.
“Shit,” I whispered, jerking upright.
She blinked awake, slow and soft, like morning light. “Savla…”
“What—how—what are you—what happened?” Words tumbled out incoherently. “Why are you here?”
She sat up, brushing sleep from her eyes. “You were having nightmares and you reached for me, so I stayed.”
I went still. I reached for her.
No. No, that wasn’t—I didn’t—
“I didn’t mean—I wasn’t—” I stuttered. I ran a hand through my hair, heat rushing under my skin. “You shouldn’t have stayed.”
“It helped,” she said gently.
It had, but I couldn’t admit that. I couldn’t admit how deeply I’d slept—how good it felt, how easy it was.
So I forced myself to look away.
“You shouldn’t have stayed,” I repeated.
The bond throbbed in disagreement, but I ignored it.
She shifted on the bed next to me. “Savla, I didn’t mean to upset you—”
And the bond snapped. It gave a sharp pull that yanked through my chest and down my arm. Before I knew what was happening, my hand shot forward at the same moment hers did.
Our palms slammed together and heat surged up my arm like molten metal. I froze, she froze and the air crackled around us with electricity.
For one terrifying moment, I felt her—not her body, not her skin—but her soul. Bright, warm and everything I wasn’t allowed to want. I tore my hand away so fast she gasped.
“No.” My voice came out rough. “No. It’s just a magic surge. Proximity. Residual energy from the pigments. It isn’t—it’s not the bond.”
The bond pulsed again, stronger, as if to disagree. I just ignored it harder.
“You can’t let this pull you in,” I said, harsher than I meant.
She looked at me with something soft and aching. “Savla…”
“I mean it.”
My hands were shaking and I knew that she saw it. She didn’t touch me, but she didn’t step back either.
“It’s not what you think,” I forced out. “It’s not fate. It’s not destiny. It’s just… noise. It doesn’t mean anything.”
Another pulse, this time painfully warm. I gritted my teeth.
She tilted her head. “Savla… you’re scared.”
“I’m fine.” I wasn’t, but I couldn’t admit it to her.
All of a sudden, the door creaked open and a deep grumble followed. Ribbon hopped into the bedroom, dragging something in his mouth.
Behind him, battered and exasperated, were Dristan and Penelope. Penelope took one look at Hanna and me on the bed—faces flushed, the air humming with bond tension—and grinned like she’d caught us naked.
“Oh,” she said brightly. “Well. That explains why Ribbon almost tore our door down trying to get us to follow him.”
“We’re not—!” I barked.
“We didn’t—!” Hanna blurted at the same time.
Dristan squinted. “Ribbon dragged us out of bed. Acted like it was urgent.”
Ribbon croaked triumphantly and shoved his hoard onto the floor between us.
There was Hanna’s sock, a glitter-covered bottle cap, the yellow leaf from before, the wooden spoon that I was certain he’d also stolen from the workshop, a piece of a blanket that was shredded at the edges and.
.. the carving of Hanna and I. My stomach sank into my boots.
Penelope clasped her hands like she was officiating a wedding. “He’s showing us the evidence of your courtship.”
“It’s not a courtship,” I growled.
“It absolutely is,” she insisted.
Dristan crossed his arms. “Should I commission a bigger workshop so you both can share? It can be my mating present.”
I made a strangled sound that wasn’t words while Ribbon croaked proudly, as if he’d just secured a political alliance. I wanted to crawl into the forge and incinerate myself.
After they finally left—with Ribbon forced to leave his hoard behind—the bedroom fell quiet again. Too quiet.
Hanna stood on the opposite side of the room, hands clasped, watching me like I was a wounded animal she wanted to help but didn’t want to scare. I stood near the door, arms crossed hard enough to hurt, every muscle coiled.
“Hanna,” I said, “you shouldn’t have stayed last night.”
“You were hurting,” she whispered. “I just wanted to help.”
“That’s the problem,” I muttered.
Her eyebrows pulled together. “How is wanting to help a problem?”
I exhaled sharply, looking anywhere but her. At the bed, the floor and then the carving she wasn’t supposed to see. Finally, I forced the truth out with a groan.
“Because I don’t want to need help. Especially not from you.”
Her breath caught.
“I can’t…” I swallowed hard. “I can’t let myself want something that could destroy me.”
Her eyes softened painfully. “You’re not your father,” she said.
I flinched and she took a tiny step forward. “Savla…”
“I need space,” I said. “Time.”
It hurt to say it but it hurt even worse to mean it. She nodded slowly. But her eyes—Gods—her eyes looked like she could see straight through me.
“I’ll give you time,” she whispered. “Just… don’t shut me out.”
I didn’t promise that because I couldn’t. But I did tell her the truth instead.
“I’ll try,” I murmured.
And for me—that was a confession. She turned to leave, but just before stepping out of my bedroom—which felt so damn right I wished I could reach out and stop her from leaving—she paused, looking back at me with something warm and devastating.
Then she was gone and the bond pulsed once more—slow, steady, undeniable.
I winced, because I knew that I wasn’t pushing her away.
Not really. I couldn’t bring myself to break what we had between us.
If I wasn’t allowed to have her, then I was going to keep her friendship, but a part of me knew that in doing that, I was only hurting us both even more.