TWENTY-FOUR
STAY
The council is in pandemonium. Where it has always been composed, deliberate, and certain of its control, now the members cling to rumors, grasping for answers that no one has.
The attack on the ball did more than spill blood—it shattered the illusion that the capital was untouchable.
Never in the history of the Fire Clan has such a calamity struck our heartlands.
I cannot stop thinking about the soldiers’ fragmented messages.
Were they trying to warn us? Did we ignore the signs while there was still time?
It hardly matters now. The enemy has made their move, and we are scrambling to understand it. I fear this is only the beginning.
—VALEN’S JOURNAL
AMARA
Sleep finds me quickly, but it is restless and fractured, tangled with flashes of the battle. Dark tendrils reaching for me. Magics roaring violently through my veins. Screams echoing beneath shattered chandeliers.
I toss beneath the blankets, caught somewhere between dreams and memory.
What if I hadn’t been fast enough?
What if more people had died because I lost control?
The hours blur together after that.
Sometime deep into the night, the heavy door creaks open, dragging me from another uneasy dream. I blink against the darkness, disoriented at first, until I make out Thane standing near the window.
Moonlight spills across him in pale silver, sharpening the hard lines of his frame. His shoulders are rigid with exhaustion, tension radiating from him strongly enough to feel from across the room.
“Thane?” My voice barely rises above a whisper.
He turns immediately, and some of the strain in his expression eases the moment his eyes find mine.
“Amara,” he says quietly. Relief flickers across his face before he reins it back under control. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”
A cool breeze drifts through the open window.
“Calryx is outside,” he adds softly. “Keeping watch.”
Guilt twists through me. Calryx wanted to be at my side tonight. I felt the desperate pull of it through our bond.
“She wasn’t happy about being kept away from the fight,” I admit as I ease myself upright. I don’t feel as fatigued as I did earlier tonight. “I’ll let her know I’m okay.”
I reach for the bond immediately.
“Thank you for staying close.”
“Always, Virelya. I will leave now that the Warlord has returned to you.”
A rush of air sweeps past the window as massive wings beat against the night sky.
My gaze returns to Thane. He looks exhausted down to the bone, the strain of the night etched deeply into his face. But beneath the exhaustion, I can still see the sharp edge of restraint holding him together.
“Are you alright?” I ask quietly, already bracing myself for the answer.
For a long moment, he says nothing. He only looks at me. Eyes darkened with worry, relief, and an emotion intense enough to tighten the air between us.
Then he exhales heavily and drags a hand through his hair.
“It’s been a long night,” he says. “The council is in disarray. People are terrified. Too many died tonight.” He pauses, looks into my eyes.
“ . . . and more would have if you hadn’t been here.
This is the first time in history the Shadow Forces have breached the capital. Much less the castle itself.”
I can practically feel the weight pressing down on him. Thane carries too much, and most of the time, he carries it alone.
“You must be exhausted,” I say softly, swinging my legs over the side of the bed. “Let me get you something. Water, or—”
“Stay.”
The word comes low and rough, almost a command. I freeze instantly, my pulse stumbling hard against my ribs.
The tension in him feels almost tangible now, wound tight beneath the surface, but it’s his eyes that unravel me. Smoke-gray and fixed entirely on mine, stripped of their usual control.
“Okay,” I whisper.
How does one word from him do this to me?
I swallow hard.
He crosses the room, each step deliberate enough to send my pulse climbing higher. I should say something. Move. Breathe.
Instead, I stay rooted where I am, caught beneath the weight of his attention.
Thane stops directly in front of me. His gaze drifts across my face before he reaches for my hand.
He pulls me gently to my feet, and suddenly every inch of space between us feels impossibly small. Heat radiates from him in continuous waves, wrapping around me until it becomes difficult to think about anything else.
Before I can stop myself, I press my palm against his chest. I need the contact. Need the reminder that he’s here.
His heartbeat thrums steadily beneath my hand while his chest rises and falls in slow, controlled breaths. My fingertips graze his chest, tracing the ridges of muscle through his battle-worn tunic.
When he dips his head closer, I catch the faint scent of leather, rugged and worn from years of use. Earth dampened by summer rain. And beneath it all, a trace of spice lingering low beneath the surface.
The breath catches in my lungs.
For a moment, all I can focus on is him. His warmth. The constant thud of his heartbeat beneath my palm. The quiet rasp of our breathing in the dark.
It’s astonishing how something as simple as his nearness can leave me feeling like I can let my guard down and just be.
His hand slips to my hip, tugging me flush against him until there’s no space left between us. Heat floods through me as I feel the unmistakable tension in his body beneath the thin layers of my dress, and my breath rushes from my lungs.
He lifts his hands to my hair. One by one, he pulls free the few pins still in my hair after the battle, letting the disheveled braids unravel over my shoulders in dark waves. His fingertips brush lightly against my scalp, sending a shiver racing down my spine.
Thane’s hands settle on my shoulders, turning me gently until my back faces him. I exhale sharply, heat rising beneath his touch.
He unwinds each braid with painstaking care, his fingers sliding through my hair, making my entire body tense with awareness. The warmth of his breath brushes against the curve of my neck, close enough to make my pulse stumble hard against my ribs.
Every nerve inside me feels raw and exposed. Desire tangles dangerously with the lingering adrenaline still coursing through my body, until I can no longer tell where one ends and the other begins.
He sweeps my hair over one shoulder, exposing the curve of my neck.
“You are so beautiful,” he murmurs reverently.
I melt instantly, warmth unfurling through me at the softness in his voice. I turn back toward him immediately, needing the contact. My hands rise to cup his face, my thumbs tracing the sharp line of his jaw, rough with stubble beneath my fingertips.
The hunger in his eyes nearly unravels me. But beneath it, I see the exhaustion too. The strain. The unbearable weight of this night still pressing against him. Of everything he carries, always.
I see it in the shadows beneath his eyes, in the strain pulling at the hard lines of his face, in the weight of this night still pressing heavily against him.
And yet he still looks at me like I’m the only thing tethering him to this world.
His gaze darkens, intense enough to unravel me completely. Beneath the desire, I can still see the restraint holding on by a thread.
Gods, he is barely holding himself together.
“Tell me you want this. I need to hear the words,” he murmurs.
Heat floods through me instantly. Yes, yes, a thousand times, yes.
Not just want.
Need.
“I want this,” I whisper, my pulse thundering hard beneath my skin. “I want you.”
His hand tightens at my waist, as if fighting for control. A strained breath leaves him before he finally closes the distance between us.
“Good girl.”
The words send a sharp wave of heat through me.
Then his mouth finds mine.
The kiss begins almost carefully, but it unravels fast, turning fierce and desperate beneath the weight of everything we are no longer holding back.
Because this isn’t only about love. It’s about tonight.
The attack. The bodies. The shadows that breached a place we believed was untouchable. I can still feel the echo of it beneath my skin—the fear, the helplessness, the unbearable weight of how close we came to losing everything.
And I can’t carry it alone.
I need him. Need the warmth of his body beneath my hands. The soothing rhythm of his heartbeat. Something real enough to hold onto while the rest of the world feels like it’s splintering apart around us.
He breaks the kiss, a rough breath leaving him as his hands tighten at my waist. His eyes search mine. When he speaks again, his voice barely rises above a whisper.
“Every time I close my eyes now, I see what could have happened tonight. You dying. You gone.” His grip flexes hard against my waist. “And I wouldn’t survive it, Amara.”
The confession hits me hard enough to ache. Not because it frightens me, but because of the depth of it. Of what he’s been too stubborn, too afraid to admit for so many months at the outpost.
He exhales unevenly, his fingers sliding slowly up my spine like he needs the reassurance that I’m still here. I need him to know that I will always be here.
“When your magics almost burned out and I saw you falling with the light fading from your eyes . . . ”
He breaks off, dragging a hand through his hair before forcing himself to continue.
“It felt cruel,” he admits quietly. “Like the gods finally placed something precious in my hands only to threaten to take it away before I could even hold onto it.”
My chest tightens painfully.
“I’ve lost people before,” he says, his forehead lowering against mine. “But this was different.” His voice drops lower. Rawer. “Because it was you. And the thought of losing you after everything . . . ” His breath shudders. “I swear I felt the world tilt under my feet.”
His words loosen something deep inside me, unraveling a knot I hadn’t realized I’d been carrying since I lost my parents.
Tears prick my eyes. I blink hard, but one still slips free, trailing down my cheek. Thane cups my face gently, brushing the tear away with his thumb.