FORTY-TWO #2
I try to imagine remembering this many people. I couldn’t even do that in our village, and we were a fraction of this size. Yet somehow he remembers everyone.
And they see him, too.
After walking in comfortable silence for a while, the sound of our footsteps echoing against the stone, I finally give voice to the thought that has been circling through my mind since Thane gave me the ring.
“Things are about to change, aren’t they? This war . . . it’s only going to get harder.”
Thane’s grip on my arm tightens slightly, almost imperceptibly. For a moment, he doesn’t answer. Then he exhales, his voice lower, more measured.
“Yes.”
I glance up at him. There’s no hesitation in his answer, no false reassurance. Only honesty.
“We’ve held the line so far,” he continues, gaze fixed ahead. “But everything is shifting. What’s coming . . . I don’t think it will be like before.”
His words land heavily, but they aren’t a surprise. But hearing him say it out loud makes it more real.
“I can feel it,” I say, my voice quieter now. “In my bones. In my magics. Something is stirring.”
My fingers curl around his arm.
“I don’t know what it is. Maybe it’s the Unmaking. Maybe it’s the Shadeheart. Maybe it’s the Shadowed Hand.”
Maybe it’s something that we can’t even see coming.
“I don’t know what or when,” I admit. “But something is coming.”
Before I realize it, we’re standing in front of Valen’s door. The conversation pulled me so deeply into my thoughts that I hadn’t even noticed we’d stopped walking.
Thane and I are facing each other now. For a moment, neither of us moves. The world outside these walls is shifting, darkening, and we both know it.
And we are running out of time.
Thane takes my face in his hands, his touch like home. His thumbs brush gently along my jaw, and before I can say anything, he leans down and presses a soft, lingering kiss to my lips.
Then another kiss follows, pressed to the tip of my nose.
Then one more to my forehead.
A quiet reassurance.
I feel it through the bond. The brush of his presence against mine, gentle and unwavering, wrapping around my thoughts like fire warding off the cold.
I’m here. I’m with you. I’m yours.
My eyes flutter closed for a moment, letting it sink in. Letting him chase away the weight of my worries, even if only for now.
Then he smiles against my brow, the warmth of it settling just as deeply as his touch.
“Your shields are down, Amara, darling.”
His voice is teasing, but I know the reminder isn’t casual. He wants it to become instinct. A habit so deeply ingrained that I never leave my mind unguarded again.
I let out a quiet sigh, recognizing how I’ve left the bond between us completely open. My fingers curl around his wrists.
“I know.”
It all feels like too much. The war. What’s coming. The battles we can’t yet see, the choices we’ll have to make. All of the people in my life that I have grown to love . . .
Who will I lose when this war becomes something more?
The thought grips me, sharp and unforgiving, because I know that nothing this big, nothing this dangerous, happens without loss.
And suddenly, I am so tired.
The war, the uncertainty, the fear of what is coming—it all seems to catch up to me at once. Without thinking, I let myself lean fully into Thane.
His arms tighten around me immediately, as though he expected it. As though he knew this moment would come eventually. For a few moments, I simply let him hold me. I let myself rest against him and borrow a little of his strength.
Thane lowers his head, his breath warm against my hair. “Are you okay?”
I swallow, my fingers curling into the fabric of his tunic.
“No,” I admit quietly. “But I will be.”
Thane’s hand glides through my hair in long, soothing strokes. I close my eyes for a moment, letting the tension ease from my shoulders.
Then the door swings open.
Valen stands in the doorway, looking far too entertained by what he finds.
“I got tired of waiting for you to knock.”
I laugh and shake my head, pulling away from Thane just enough to face him.
Of course. I’d almost forgotten about the wards Valen placed on his door to alert him the moment someone is at his door. His way of ensuring no one eavesdrops on his conversations.
I lift a brow at him. “You really couldn’t give us another minute?”
Valen offers an indulgent smile. “You’ve had plenty. Now, are you coming in, or should I leave you in the hallway?”
Thane chuckles and steps away, the warmth of his touch lingering even as he puts space between us.
“Good morning, Valen.”
“Hello, Thane,” Valen replies, his tone light.
Thane glances at me, his eyes lingering for a beat longer. “I’ll see you later today.”
Then, with a wink, he turns on his heel, striding away with the effortless confidence of a man who knows exactly who he is.
And gods help me, I watch him go. The way he moves—all power and precision, broad shoulders and that damn swagger—it makes me melt.
Valen clears his throat pointedly. I tear my eyes away, heat creeping up my neck as I face him.
He smiles politely. “Shall we?”
Gods bless him for not saying a single thing about my now-red face.
I step into the room, and Valen closes the door behind me, the soft click echoing in the quiet space. Catching the flash of onyx against my skin, his gaze drops to my hand.
To the ring.
A smile breaks across Valen’s face, and for a fleeting moment, he reminds me of a proud father.
“Well,” he muses, “I see that Thane has made quite the promise to you. And you to him.”
He nods absently, as though satisfied by what the ring represents. “That’s good.”
I tilt my head, curiosity sparking at his words. “Why do you say that’s good?”
Valen studies me for a moment, his gaze sharp but not unkind.
“Because war has a way of unraveling people, Amara. It tears at loyalties, tests convictions, and makes even the strongest question what they stand for.”
He gestures toward my hand, toward the ring that still hums faintly with its quiet magics.
“This is an anchor. A reminder. A tether to something greater than just battle and duty.”
When he looks at me, his silver-blue eyes are uncharacteristically intense.
“And trust me, before this war is over, you’ll need that.”
Again, I find myself thinking about everything that lies ahead. The war. The uncertainty. The choices we’ll have to make.
Valen notices the shift in my expression, the way my shoulders tense and my thoughts seem to drift somewhere beyond this room. He doesn’t press for an explanation or ask me to put words to it.
Instead, he simply asks, “Tea?”
I nod, grateful for the small mercy.
“How about something soothing?” he suggests, his voice instantly calming me.
I nod again, unable to find the words. The thoughts crowding my mind feel heavier now, harder to ignore.
Valen doesn’t rush me. He simply moves quietly through the room, as though he senses that what I need most right now is a moment to think.
Ten minutes later, he returns carrying two mugs of tea and settles into the chair across from me. He slides one forward, steam curling from its surface and carrying the faint scent of herbs.
I wrap my hands around the warm ceramic, but don’t drink. Valen waits without pressure or expectation, giving me the space to untangle the thoughts circling through my mind.
The scent of parchment, ink, and old books surrounds me, the familiar fragrance of Valen’s study. I’ve grown oddly fond of it over time. But now the herbal tea cuts through it, warm and earthy, drifting through the air between us.
I bite my lower lip, my fingers tightening slightly around the mug, but I still don’t lift it. I look down at the tea, the pale liquid catching the late morning light spilling through the large window beside Valen’s table.
The sunlight glows against the surface, shifting softly as steam rises into the air. It feels like such a small, ordinary thing, this tea and this quiet moment, but nothing feels ordinary anymore.
Across from me, Valen waits. He simply trusts that I will find the words when I am ready.
“People I love are going to die in what’s coming,” I finally say, my voice barely above a whisper.
Valen doesn’t try to soften it. “Likely.”
I swallow, my grip tightening around the mug. “I might not be able to save them.”
He sighs heavily, but doesn’t look away. “That is a possibility.”
“I might die.”
The words leave me quietly, evenly, but the enormity of them sinks between us like a stone dropped into still water.
Valen watches me, unblinking and unmoving, but not without feeling.
“Yes,” he answers. “But if that happens, then we are all lost.”
I have known it since Valen first told me about the prophecies, since the weight of my fate settled onto my shoulders like something I could never put down.
I lift my gaze to Valen, my voice wavering.
“I can do everything right. Channel and merge the elements. Train harder and become a stronger warrior. Learn, study, and prepare for every possible outcome.”
I swallow, my fingers tightening around the warm ceramic of my mug.
“And it still might not be enough.”
The words feel almost impossible to say aloud.
“It still might not save them.”
My gaze drops to the tea between my hands.
“It might not matter.”
Valen’s gaze holds mine, and for the first time, I see something beneath his usual composure.
Sadness.
Not for himself, but for me.
My mentor rarely shows emotion. He has always been the one pushing me forward, challenging me, refusing to let me settle for less than I am capable of becoming.
“Perhaps,” he answers.
Then his expression changes. The sadness remains, but something fiercer rises beneath it. He reaches across the table and grips my hand.
“But know this in your bones—everything you do matters. It all matters.”
His fingers tighten around mine.
“So keep practicing and training and fighting. Keep getting stronger.”
His voice softens slightly, but the conviction behind it remains unchanged.
“But most importantly, keep believing. Do not lose faith, my girl. Not in yourself and not in what you are becoming.”