Chapter 4 #2
Tonight, when their bodies joined, he’d felt it: her need for him to take the reins, to anchor her, to drive back whatever shadows clawed at her heart.
Cush had answered with all the fervor and tenderness he possessed, pouring every ounce of his light into her, willing it to be enough.
He needed to touch her, taste her. He wasn’t gentle, not with the urgency that burned between them, but always careful not to let her slip away.
He wanted to mark her with his devotion, a promise against the gathering storm.
Yet, even as he held her, her vulnerability undid him.
She trusted him in ways she trusted no one else; in these moments, she placed her wild, battered soul in his hands, and Cush swore he’d never let her down.
He pressed his lips to her temple, breathing in the scent of her, jasmine and rain and the faintest trace of wild magic.
His body still hummed from the aftershocks of their joining, the ache of satisfaction tangled up with a relentless worry.
Because tonight was different. He’d felt the darkness clawing at her, stronger than before, even as their bodies moved together.
It had resisted him, just for a moment, and that was new.
The realization gnawed at him as she drifted into sleep, her breath slowing, her body softening against his.
He stroked her hair, trying to memorize the weight of her, the way she fit so perfectly against him, as if the gods themselves had carved her for his arms.
He knew what tomorrow would bring: more shadows, more battles, more of Elora’s razor-edged defiance.
He’d be forced to watch her, to guard her every step.
She’d hate him for it, might even make good on her threat to lock him out of their rooms, force him to sleep in the hall like some lovesick guard dog.
Or, if he was lucky, he’d manage to seduce his way back into her good graces, trading her fury for fire, her scowl for sighs.
Cush smiled at the thought, though it was tinged with worry.
He didn’t know how to stop being protective, it was as much a part of him as his own heartbeat.
But he did know this: whatever darkness grew inside her, whatever tomorrow brought, he would meet it head-on.
For her, he’d do anything. He’d fight, he’d beg, he’d seduce and soothe and battle, over and over, until there was nothing left but the two of them and the light they made together.
With a final kiss pressed to her brow, Cush let himself settle.
Elora’s weight was warm and familiar, her trust a gift he would never stop earning.
As she slept, he whispered a silent vow to the restless night: whatever shadows came, he would be the shield.
And if he had to win her forgiveness every night, then so be it.
He wrapped her in his arms, holding her close, and waited for dawn knowing, deep down, that peace would never last, but love would make every battle worth it.
* * *
The gardens wore late morning like a hush.
The sunlight dappled through ash and elm, damp still clinging to the edges of leaves, the air smelling faintly of mint and wet stone.
Cassie lowered herself onto the bench beneath the old ash, rolled her shoulders, and told the twist in her stomach to behave.
Hunger, nerves, or the thing she hadn’t said out loud, she couldn’t tell. Maybe all three.
Elora dropped beside her, all quick limbs and caged energy. “I needed this,” she said, a declaration more than a confession. “Just us. No kings. No sentient books. No lectures about safety from mates who think we’re fragile dolls.”
Cassie snorted. “You’d break a doll just to prove the point.”
Elora tipped her face to the light, eyes closed, soaking in warmth. “I went back to the training hall.”
Cassie slid her a look. “Seriously?”
A guilty half-smile. “At dawn. Leeland was there. So were Beligand Rin. Sidhion showed up halfway through to critique my footwork like the benevolent tyrant he is.”
Cassie tried not to smile and failed. “And how did our benevolent tyrant fare?”
“I wiped that smug look off his face for exactly three seconds,” Elora said.
“Then he reminded me I’m not ten feet tall and sword-proof.
” She rubbed the heel of her hand along her forearm as if rubbing out some leftover pain.
“Cush wouldn’t have approved, of course.
Which is exactly why I did it. Seducing me into silence isn’t a strategy I’m rewarding. ”
Cassie snorted. “So you got up and hit people with sticks to make a point.”
“Precisely.” Elora sighed. “He thinks I’m rash.”
“You are,” Cassie said mildly.
Elora’s mouth tipped. “And you’re disloyal.”
They let the ease of it settle between them, the kind of banter that stitched two people together even when life tried to pull the thread. The fountain’s soft hiss filled the pause. A pair of younger warriors jogged past on the outer path; birds flicked through the hedges like thoughts.
Elora angled toward her. “You look tired.”
“Do I?” Cassie tucked a curl behind her ear. She had slept, technically. It hadn’t helped the ache in her chest.
“I’m not Trik,” Elora said. “You don’t have to pretend with me.”
“I don’t pretend with him.”
“You edit,” Elora said, not unkind. “It seems like you’ve been doing that a lot lately.”
Cassie watched a bead of water slide down a leaf and disappear into dark soil. “He’s distant,” she said finally. “Even when he’s in the room. I know he’s worried about the damn book, but it’s driving me crazy. And I don’t even feel like he notices.”
Elora nodded slowly. “I totally don’t understand even though I’m nodding my head. Cush notices everything.” She flexed her fingers, frowned at the faint shimmer under her skin as if daring it to misbehave.
Cassie noticed the movement and looked at her friend. “What’s going on with you? Other than your need to prove to your mate that you won’t break even though we both know every warrior here could snap your bones in seconds.
“I’m ignoring the second statement,” Elora said dryly. “But I’ll acknowledge your question.” She sighed, sounding as exhausted as Cassie felt. “Sometimes it’s like there’s a storm in me and I can’t find the eye.”
“Like static,” Cassie murmured.
“Like I could light a candle by glaring,” Elora said, dry. Then, softer: “I hate that he thinks he has to control me to keep me safe. It makes me want to do the opposite just to prove a point. Which, yes, I hear it. That’s not maturity.”
Cassie bumped her shoulder. “You’re allowed to be frustrated. You just can’t let that steer you.”
Elora huffed. “Says the woman who is letting her fear of her mate’s rejection steer her.”
“Fair,” Cassie said, a ghost of a smile. It slipped. “I feel unsure about us. He used to notice everything. If I breathed wrong, he’d know. Lately it’s like . . . I could be screaming and he’d just continue to stare at those pages, waiting for whatever it is he thinks is coming, to happen.”
Elora’s look turned sharp. “He loves you.”
“I know.” The words were true and still hurt. “I just don’t know where that love is supposed to fit when right now it feels like the safety of the realm takes all of him.”
Elora went quiet, and in that quiet Cassie nearly said it—I’m pregnant.
The syllables pressed against her teeth.
She wanted to tell her best friend. But she also felt like the father of their child should be the first to know.
Cassie swallowed them with the next breath and stared hard at the sunlight on stone until the urge passed.
The quiet continued, as if Elora carried just as much turmoil as Cassie did.
Elora broke the silence first, voice low. “Last night, he didn’t argue with me. He just touched me until I forgot why I was mad. And I’m even madder about that.”
Cassie’s mouth curved. “Weaponized affection is still affection.”
“It’s manipulation with better marketing,” Elora said flatly, then sighed. “But I let him. Because for a minute the storm stopped.”
Cassie understood that bone-deep. “Sometimes you need to stop the storm and count that as a win.”
Elora blew out a breath. “Fine. One point to the queen’s wisdom.” She tilted her head. “What are you going to do about your king?”
“Talk to him,” Cassie said. Her heart thumped once, too loud. “Eventually. When he’s looking at me and actually sees me.”
Footsteps crunched over gravel behind them. The air shifted, different weight, different gravity. Elora didn’t turn because as his mate, she’d have felt him.
Cush stopped a few paces away, wearing late morning like armor with braided hair, practice leathers, expression controlled. His gaze swept Elora first, cataloguing, then cut to Cassie with a soldier’s economy.
“Elora,” he said, voice even.
She stood as she looked up at him. “Cush,” she said in the same tone.
He lifted a brow, the gesture somehow both affectionate and annoyed. “We should finish what we were discussing.”
Elora folded her arms. “We finished when I said we did.”
His jaw ticked. “You didn’t have my approval to spar.”
She stepped closer, eyes bright with defiance. “Didn’t realize I needed your permission to breathe.”
Cassie couldn’t decide if she should just continue to sit and watch the show, or give them some privacy. She mentally shrugged and decided on watching because it was better than thinking about her own issues.
His voice dropped, quiet and hard. “You’re not invincible, Elora. You push and push until someone bleeds. Usually you.”
“Maybe if you stopped trying to cage me, I wouldn’t have to push,” she shot back. “I’m not one of your soldiers.”
“You’re my Chosen,” he said, tension vibrating through the words. “Which means I care if you come home alive and unscathed.”
Her laugh was soft and dangerous. “Then trust that I can make that happen myself.” She pivoted sharply, chin high. “I’m going to shower. Alone. Tell Sidhion if he tries to critique my footwork again, I’ll aim higher.”
Her shoulder brushed Cassie’s in parting. “Text me later,” she murmured, and then she was gone, fury moving her like momentum.
Cush watched her go, the lines of his body drawn tight as a bowstring. When he finally exhaled, it sounded like surrender he didn’t want to admit.
“Any advice?” he asked without looking at Cassie.
“Stop trying to win,” Cassie said. “Start trying to listen.”
He grunted. “Noted.” He shifted, and the world shifted with him—small, telling things moving into focus as only warriors notice. His head tilted. He went very, very still.
“What,” Cassie said, too quickly.
His eyes flicked to her face, then lower—throat, chest, the pulse under her skin—before lifting again, guarded now. “Your scent is different,” he said, voice quiet. “And your heart line . . it’s doubled.”
Chill ran down Cassie’s spine. She didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. “Cush.”
“I can hear it,” he went on, matter-of-fact in the way that made it worse. “Two rhythms.” His gaze held her fast. “Does Trik know?”
The question hit like a slap. Heat rose quickly and hot, anger racing to cover the nakedness she felt. “No.”
His mouth flattened. “Of course he doesn’t.” He shook his head, a bite of judgment bleeding through. “If he did, he wouldn’t be buried in that book.”
Cassie’s temper snapped, clean as a twig. “Careful.” She didn’t want to pull the rank card, because frankly, she still wasn’t used to the whole “queen” thing. But on this, she would.
“He should know,” Cush said, blunt as a dull blade. “And so should Elora. Keeping it from them—”
“Is my choice,” Cassie cut in. “My body. My timing.” The tremor in her hands humiliated her; she shoved them into her pockets. “You don’t get to walk in here and decide when I tell my mate I’m pregnant.”
His expression didn’t soften. “I’m not deciding. I’m telling you the truth you already know. Trik would be over the moon. And the longer you wait, the more this hurts both of you.”
Her fury surged, raw and bright, and the bond, sleeping for too long, flared. Cassie? Trik’s voice brushed her mind, warm and startled, like a hand finding her in the dark. What’s wrong? Where are you?
Pain bloomed under her breastbone, love and rage colliding. Now you hear me? she shot back, the words sharp enough to cut. Go back to your book, Your Majesty.
A beat of stunned silence across the link. Then, aching: Cass—
She slammed the door in her mind so hard her head rang. The sudden quiet made her sway.
Cush swore under his breath. “I didn’t mean—”
“You meant exactly what you said,” she snapped.
“And you’re right. He should know. But you don’t get to be judge and courier because you pay attention to your senses while he does not.
” Her voice shook; she made it steel anyway.
“If you tell him before I do, I will never forgive you. And Elora won’t either.
” That was harsh and not something Cassie would normally say.
But her emotions were all over the place and it felt like she couldn’t control the words that bubbled up with her anger.
Cush held her gaze for a long beat. Warrior to queen. Friend to friend. He looked away first.
“I won’t say anything,” he said, the words rough. “Not to him. Not to her. For now.”
“For now,” she echoed, hating the way relief made her weak.
Wind stirred the leaves at their feet; the fountain’s arc hiccuped and smoothed. Somewhere, a far door slammed, the sound carrying like a warning.
Cush scrubbed a hand over his face, tired all at once. “I’m trying to protect the people I love.”
“So am I, so is Trik,” Cassie said. “We’re all doing it badly.” She stepped around him. “Tell Elora something.”
He arched a brow. “What?”
“Tell her to take her own advice about communication,” Cassie said, and started walking. “Both of you are in the wrong.”
She left the path and cut through the bright strips of sun toward the palace, fists tight in her pockets, breath sharp in her throat.
Behind her, the garden carried on—birds arguing in the hedges, trainees laughing two paths over, water whispering to stone—as if the world hadn’t just shifted under her feet.
Someone else knew her secret, and it wasn’t her mate.
That thought made her sick. The bond throbbed, wounded and stubborn.
Inside her, a smaller rhythm answered, steady and strong.
She knew Cush wasn’t bluffing. He would tell Trik.
“Put on your big girl pants, Cassie,” she muttered under her breath.
But even as she said it, instead of heading towards his study, she suddenly decided she was hungry and food sounded much better than dealing with his rejection.