Chapter 6
The hallways stretched ahead like veins of stone, dim and humming with tension. The compound felt different tonight, as though every ancient wall were holding its breath.
Leena walked with one hand resting in the crook of Sule’s arm, his pace shortened to accommodate hers. He had said little since they left their chambers. His silence carried resistance more clearly than an argument would have.
Ahead, outside the eastern guest suite, Mary waited with her hands twisted into her apron. Their usually unshakable head housekeeper looked pale beneath the low corridor lights.
Sule stopped several feet from the door.
“How is the human?”
“Restless,” Mary said. “In pain. The night medic says the fever has to run its course. Rhen came when she screamed. He has been inside ever since.”
“Has she woken?”
“No, Majesty.”
“Has the magic changed?”
Mary shook her head.
“The wards are unsettled, but they’re holding.”
Sule’s gaze moved to the closed door. The muscles in his jaw tightened.
“I’m going in with you.”
Leena turned to face him.
“No.”
His eyes cut sharply to hers.
“We discussed this.”
“We did. You escorted me here and made certain the room was secure.”
“I did not agree to leave you.”
“You did eventually.”
“I was clearly not in my right mind.”
Despite the tension, a flicker of warmth touched her expression. She placed one hand against his chest.
“Rhen will not speak freely with you standing behind me as his king.”
“He may not speak freely at all.”
“Then I will sit with her until he does.”
Sule’s attention dropped briefly to the curve of Leena’s belly before returning to her face.
“The first sign of danger, you leave.”
“Yes.”
“If the female wakes, you leave.”
“Yes.”
“If Rhen—”
“I know.”
His mouth flattened.
Leena rose slightly and pressed a kiss to his cheek.
“The council is waiting for you.”
“They can wait.”
“They have already spent half the night threatening one another. Leaving them unattended may be the greater danger.”
That earned the faintest shift in his expression.
He looked toward Mary.
“You remain outside this door. If Leena calls, you send for me immediately.”
Mary dipped her head.
“Yes, Majesty.”
Sule turned back to Leena.
“I mean it.”
“So do I.”
For one long moment, he did not move. Then he touched her face, his thumb passing once over her cheek before he stepped away.
“I adore you,” he said quietly.
Leena’s expression softened.
“I know.”
His gaze lingered on her before he finally turned and disappeared down the corridor toward the council chamber.
Only when his footsteps had faded did Leena look at Mary.
“How is she really?”
Mary’s lips pressed into a thin line as she glanced toward the closed door.
“Barely holding on.”
Leena nodded once.
“Thank you. I’ll take it from here.”
Relief swept across Mary’s face. She dipped her head and moved farther down the hallway, remaining close enough to obey Sule’s order without listening at the door.
Leena paused with her hand against the handle.
She could feel it already—that static pull, the oppressive weight of Rhen’s presence pressing through the wood like smoke through stone.
She knocked once.
Then she let herself in.
The room hit her like a punch of heat, fire, and fury. Shadows from the hearth moved violently across the walls. Near the darkened window, Rhen paced with terrible, contained tension, as though he could see a war gathering beyond the glass.
His pacing stopped the moment she entered.
His head snapped toward her, silver eyes locking onto hers, darkness banked behind them. Control stretched thin across every hard line of his body. His fists remained clenched at his sides, his posture rigid enough to suggest violence rather than panic.
Leena closed the door behind her, the quiet click barely registering over the hum of magic in the room.
She moved forward without hesitation, her white gown flowing around her ankles. The swell of her belly gave her a quiet gravity, anchoring her within a room saturated with pain and aggression.
Rhen’s shoulders squared.
“Leena.” His voice came out rough. “The hell are you doing here?”
She offered him a composed smile.
“Hello to you too, Rhen.”
A low growl rumbled in his chest as he took one aggressive step toward her.
“You shouldn’t be here. Leave. Now.”
Leena raised one brow.
“You don’t get to order me around. I’m not fragile, and I’m not leaving.”
His jaw worked, fury bristling through every line of his body.
“Goddamn it, Leena.”
“Rhen.”
Her voice cut through him, gentle but immovable.
“I’m fine. And I know you’re losing control. Don’t insult us both by pretending otherwise.”
She held his gaze.
“I’m here because this affects the clan, because I care what happens to you, and because there is an unconscious woman burning alive in that bed.”
He did not answer.
Leena knew exactly what Rhen was. She had never mistaken him for misunderstood or harmless. She simply refused to fear him, and that made her harder to dismiss than anyone else in the clan.
She stepped closer with the measured confidence of someone who understood precisely how far she could push. Her hand came to rest lightly against his sleeve.
The muscles beneath it locked.
His gaze dropped to the contact in warning, but he did not pull away.
“You are not alone in this,” she said. “Whether you like it or not, what happens here affects all of us.”
A controlled breath left him through his nose.
The tension did not ease, but he stopped trying to force her from the room.
Leena removed her hand and moved toward the bed.
The woman writhed beneath the sheets, sweat clinging to her skin, her breathing shallow and erratic. Pain marked every line of her face. The room felt thick with heat, tension, and something far older than either of them could yet name.
Rhen remained near the window, every muscle held rigid as he watched the transition punish them both.
Leena leaned over the bed and moved the damp strands of hair from the woman’s forehead. Her fingers paused near the bruises marring her skin—deep, old, and ugly.
“She was hurt before this,” Leena said.
It was not a question.
Rhen did not move.
“Yes.”
Leena studied the dark bloom of a bruise on the woman’s arm without touching it.
“She has already survived one kind of hell. Now she has to survive another.”
“I’ll stay until the transition settles,” Rhen said. His voice lowered. “After that, I’m not formally claiming her.”
Leena looked back at him.
“Sule told me.”
She straightened.
“A maker tether isn’t a formal claim, but it won’t disappear because you refuse to name it.”
Rhen’s jaw tightened.
“What happens when she wakes?” Leena asked. “Where does she go?”
“She’ll live long enough to answer my questions.”
“You didn’t drag her this far to let the transition kill her now. That would make everything you’ve done pointless.”
He stared at the woman as though she were both a threat and an obligation.
Leena let the silence settle before asking, “What is her name?”
Irritation cut briefly across his expression.
“Hell if I know.”
Leena accepted the answer without comment and returned her attention to the bed.
Rhen watched her in silence.
Leena had never tried to make him feel human. She expected him to behave like a member of the clan and held him to it whether he snarled or not.
The unconscious woman in the bed was different. She had dragged him into an obligation he had never chosen and could no longer discard.
“I need something to do,” he muttered, flexing his hands at his sides as though he could physically break the tether’s hold.
Leena looked up.
“There is something.”
His attention cut to her.
“What?”
Leena rose slowly, one hand resting against the curve of her belly.
“I need you to fetch ward-grown valerian root and lavender. They won’t stop the transition, but they may take the edge off the fever and spasms.”
Rhen shook his head.
“Fuck that. I’m not leaving.”
“The east garden is directly outside this wing. You’ll be gone for minutes.”
“No.”
“You need to move before you tear this room apart, and she needs the herbs.”
“I never said I wanted to help her.”
“No. You gave her enough of your blood to begin a transition and then carried her through the wards. Your actions have already said more than you intended.”
His eyes burned with resistance.
Another convulsion tore through the woman on the bed.
The tether clenched visibly through him.
“Where?” he demanded.
“The sheltered beds beneath the eastern wall. Valerian root and lavender. Bring both.”
Rhen gave a tense nod.
“Fine. I’ll be quick.”
Leena turned toward the washstand.
A hard band of pressure tightened across her abdomen.
She faltered.
Only slightly, but it was enough.
Her breath hitched, one hand pressing firmly beneath the curve of her belly.
Rhen went still.
“What was that?”
“Nothing. The baby is being a little too active.”
“Bullshit.”
He crossed the room in two strides, stopping short of touching her.
“You don’t lose your footing for no reason. What’s wrong?”
“I’m fine. I’m—”
“You’re carrying the heir,” he cut in. “Sit down before I call Sule and let him drag you back himself.”
Leena’s back stiffened.
“I don’t need either of you ordering me into a chair.”
“I’m not asking.”
His gaze did not waver.
Leena rolled her eyes but lowered herself into the nearest chair, breathing carefully until the pressure began to ease.
Rhen watched her breathing and the tension in her posture, assessing whether the pain was passing.
“It is normal pregnancy discomfort,” she said. “You do not need to summon the entire clan.”
“If you collapse in this room, Sule will level the wing.”
“Then it is fortunate I have no intention of collapsing.”
Another faint pressure rolled across her belly. Leena concealed it behind a measured breath.
Rhen noticed anyway.
“You’re lying.”
“I am managing.”
“Not the same thing.”
“No,” she agreed. “But it is enough. Get the herbs.”
His gaze remained fixed on her.
“You swear nothing has changed?”
“I swear that if anything does, I’ll send for Sule immediately.”
For a long moment, Rhen did not move.