FORTY-NINE
THE HIDDEN FLAME
I would wager that one of the greatest challenges a historian faces is uncovering the truth as it truly was.
Across centuries, from one generation to the next, stories inevitably change.
Not always through deliberate deception, more often through small alterations or omissions made for reasons long forgotten.
This is especially true when examining traditions families have guarded for generations.
The artifact may remain, but the purpose behind its protection is often obscured by the very stories meant to preserve its memory.
—VALEN’S JOURNAL
AMARA
Thane and I lounge in the chairs by the evening fire, glasses of wine in hand. The flames crackle in the hearth, casting shifting shadows across the stone walls. The nights have grown cooler, but here, wrapped in warmth and conversation, it hardly matters.
I’ve just finished telling him everything—my conversation with Kieran, what Valen and I uncovered, and the plan to travel to the Air Clan region.
Thane’s fingers tap lightly against the armrest, his attention fixed on the fire.
“Oryn Strathir won’t be easy to deal with,” he says, not for the first time.
I glance at him. “You’ve met with him often?”
He nods, looking at me. “Several times. Whenever Air and Fire are forced to sit at the same table, it’s usually him across from me.”
I study his face. “What’s he like?”
Thane’s lips press into a thin line.
“Measured. Always. He doesn’t waste words or time. Strathir listens more than he speaks, and when he does speak, it’s with purpose. He doesn’t posture or provoke. The Lord of the Air Clan plays the long game and always has. And he remembers everything, especially grievances.”
His gaze settles on the fire again.
“He’s dangerous in a different way than most. The kind of quiet power you don’t see until it’s already shaped the board.”
I take a sip of my wine. “He sounds careful.”
“He is,” Thane says. “And calculating. The kind of man who always knows more than he says. You never quite know where he stands until it’s too late to change your footing.”
“And how does he feel about the Fire Clan?” I ask.
Thane’s fingers curl around the arms of his chair.
“Publicly, neutral. Privately, I think he views us the way much of the realm does—dangerous, dominant, and too accustomed to getting our way. Especially over the last fifty years.”
He leans forward, resting his forearms on his knees.
“The tension really started after the last major trade dispute. The Fire Clan imposed levies on elemental resource exports—minerals, forge materials. It hit the Air Clan hard. They retaliated by restricting access to some of their higher-altitude sky passages and airlift routes. Nearly grounded half our border patrols for a month.”
“And then there was the summit incident,” I say, the memory surfacing faintly. Travelers passing through my village had carried stories about it from the capital.
Thane nods. “An Air Clan emissary accused a Fire Clan delegate of sabotage. There was never any proof, but by then it didn’t matter. The accusation had already done the damage.”
His mouth tightens.
“Strathir didn’t speak to our High Council for nearly a year afterward. When he finally did, he made sure nobody forgot why.”
“And now we’re about to walk into his territory asking for cooperation.”
Thane’s mouth lifts into a humorless smile. “Not asking. Navigating. There’s a difference.”
I shift in my chair, the weight of what we’re walking into settling deeper. “Do you trust him?”
He’s silent for a moment.
“I respect him,” Thane finally says. “But trust? No. He protects his people above all else. If what we bring threatens their stability, he won’t hesitate to turn us away. Or use it to his advantage.”
“So we tread carefully.”
“Exactly. Every word, every gesture, every silence matters with Strathir.” Thane nods once, as though settling the decision in his own mind. “We don’t go in as warriors. We go in as historians. Respectfully. And we let him see that we’re not there to shift power. We’re there to find the truth.”
I exhale, the fire’s warmth brushing against my skin.
“And what about Kieran?” I ask. “He has no idea what his family may have been involved in.”
“What concerns me isn’t Kieran,” Thane says.
I frown.
“What does?”
“If his family protected the ledger, they may have had reasons for doing so.” Flames from the fire reflect in his eyes. “Reasons that survived longer than the people who made the decision.”
The thought sends a chill through me.
“You think they know?”
“I think we don’t know enough yet to make assumptions.” His expression hardens slightly. “Kieran deserves the truth. But before we start handing it out, I want to understand what we’re dealing with.”
Thane leans forward, resting his forearms on his knees. “The question is how much we tell him. And when.”
I exhale, my fingertips tracing the rim of my glass. “He trusts us. But trust doesn’t mean he’s ready for this.”
Thane’s eyes narrow as he considers it. “If his family still has the ledger, even unknowingly, we’ll need him. But if we tell him everything too soon . . . ”
“He’ll start asking questions of his family.”
“Exactly.” Thane nods. “Questions we aren’t ready to answer. Questions that could reach the wrong people before we understand what we’re dealing with.”
Silence settles between us, the firelight casting a warm glow across Thane’s sharp features. Through the bond, I feel his awareness of me—steady, certain, waiting.
“So what do we do?” I ask.
Thane takes a sip of his wine, then sets the glass down.
“We do what Valen suggested. We start with what we know. The history. The name Vhael.” His fingers drum against the armrest. “Right now we have a theory, not proof. We don’t burden Kieran with a theory until we know whether there’s truth behind it.”
I turn that over in my mind.
“And if we’re right?”
“Then we tell him everything. But we also need to be prepared for the possibility that his family knows more than they’ve ever shared.”
I nod, because he’s right. This is delicate and potentially dangerous, but it’s necessary. I swirl the wine in my glass, watching the firelight catch along the rim.
“Like Valen said, we can frame it as research. History.” I glance up at him. “But if he presses? If he asks why we care so much about this specific ledger?”
Thane doesn’t say anything for a moment.
“Then we tell him the truth that’s already in front of us.”
I lift a brow in question.
“The ledger was referenced in Veyne’s records. It may contain information about the Shadow Wars. We’re trying to verify whether the accounts are accurate.” He shrugs. “None of that is a lie.”
“But not the rest.”
“No.” His gaze hardens. “Not until we know our theory is more than a theory.”
A flicker of unease coils in my stomach. “Which is also true.”
“Exactly.” Thane taps a finger against the armrest. “We don’t tell him yet that his family may be connected to the one piece of evidence capable of changing everything we think we know about the Shadow Wars.”
I turn my glass in my hands, watching the wine swirl. “But his ancestors knew, didn’t they?”
“Most likely. If they protected the ledger, they almost certainly knew the truth.”
I exhale, considering that. “Then why hide it? Why not stand with the Shadow Clan?”
Thane’s gaze remains fixed on the fire.
“Because it may not have looked that simple at the time.”
I frown. “What do you mean?”
“The clans weren’t united the way they are now.” His gaze settles on the fire. “Back then, most leaders were concerned with protecting their own people first.”
The flames crackle between us.
“If the Fire Clan truly convinced the realm that the Shadow Clan had been corrupted by the Unmaking, many would have seen it as a Shadow Clan problem. Not theirs.”
The thought settles heavily in my chest.
“You think they believed it?”
“I think some probably did.” His fingers tighten slightly around his glass. “The Shadow Clan sealed away the Unmaking. They carried power nobody else understood. Fear doesn’t need much encouragement to become certainty.”
I stare into the fire.
“And the others?”
“Some may have doubted. Some may have known the truth. Some may have decided it wasn’t worth risking their own people to challenge the narrative.” His jaw tightens. “History rarely gives us one reason for anything.”
I look down at the wine in my glass.
“And Kieran’s family?”
His gaze meets mine. “If they preserved the ledger, then at least a few members of Air Clan understood that the truth mattered enough to protect.”
A tightness forms in my chest.
“Which means if the ledger was protected by them, it wasn’t just because they wanted to preserve history. It was because they knew the real story had been buried.”
Thane leans forward, resting his forearms on his knees.
“And now, generations later, Kieran has no idea. He believes what everyone else does.”
I shake my head.
“How do you carry a history like that and not know?”
Thane looks at me thoughtfully.
“Maybe they didn’t.”
I frown.
“What?”
“Families lose things.” His gaze settles on the fire. “Stories change. Details disappear. One generation tells the next only what they think matters.”
The thought settles heavily between us.
“You think the ledger survived, but the reason for protecting it didn’t?”
“It’s possible.” His expression grows thoughtful. “Five hundred years is a long time, Amara.”
I raise the glass to my lips, my mind racing with the significance of what this means. “If that’s true, if they still have the ledger . . . ”
Thane’s voice, full of certainty, cuts through my thoughts. “If they still have the ledger, then the truth survived somehow.”
We sit in silence for a few moments, the fire crackling softly in the hearth. The weight of everything we’ve uncovered presses against me, and once again, I’m struck by how much my life has changed in less than a year.
Back then, everything was simple. Predictable.
I woke with the sun. I worked the fields beside my parents. On good days, I visited friends or neighbors before dusk settled over the village. Once a week, I made the trip into town, and that was enough excitement to last for days.
That had been my world.
Now my days are filled with politics cloaked in civility and conversations that feel more like strategy than truth. Every answer uncovers another secret. Every discovery raises new questions. Shadow Forces. War councils. Histories that may have been buried for centuries.
The simplicity is gone. And I’m not sure it’s ever coming back.
Across from me, Thane watches as I turn the wineglass between my hands. His expression softens almost imperceptibly, as though he can follow every thread of my thoughts without needing to hear them spoken aloud.
Then something shifts in his expression.
“He has feelings for you.”
I blink, caught off guard.
The words settle between us, unexpected enough to pull me from the ledger, the Air Clan, and everything else that has consumed my thoughts. For a moment, I can’t tell whether he’s stating a fact or waiting for a reaction.
I set my glass down carefully, buying myself a second to think.
“Kieran?”
Thane pauses, studying me as though he’s trying to determine whether I’m serious.
“You hadn’t noticed?”
“No—that’s not possible.” I shake my head, disbelieving. “He knows I’m with you.”
I laugh, the sound abrupt, because the idea is ridiculous.
“Everyone knows I’m with you.”
Thane watches me, his expression soft and patient. “A man can tell when another man is interested in the woman he loves.”
The words land deep, sending an unexpected flutter through me.
I exhale, shaking my head again. “We’re just friends.”
Thane holds my gaze, unblinking. “Both can be true.”
It had been months since I kissed Kieran. Months since that fleeting, impulsive moment beneath a summer sky, before I understood what I felt. Before Thane.
Since then, Kieran had simply been Kieran. Charming. Easygoing. As infuriatingly confident as ever. I would have noticed if something had changed between us. Wouldn’t I?
My thoughts drift to the ball. I picture his blond hair slightly tousled, the silver-blue of his eyes catching the lantern light as he guided a noblewoman through a dance. I hadn’t thought anything of it at the time.
Why would I have?
The possibility had never even crossed my mind. He looked happy. Relaxed. Enjoying himself.
And before that, hadn’t Lyra teased him about sneaking off with someone after one of our nights at the pub near the outpost?
I tap my fingers against the stem of my glass. If Kieran had feelings for me, wouldn’t I have noticed? Wouldn’t he have said something? Or maybe I had never thought to look.
“Amara, love, your shields are down.” Thane chuckles, the sound low, rich with amusement.
I freeze mid-thought. Shit.
“You heard all of that.”
“I did.”
I groan and rub a hand over my forehead.
“I forget to keep them up when I’m here. When it’s just us,” I admit.
A quiet satisfaction settles into his expression.
“Our quarters,” he corrects.
I pause. Then a smile finds its way onto my face.
“Our quarters,” I echo.
He’s right. I stopped living out of a bag long ago. My clothes hang in the wardrobe, my weapons rest on the walls and across the desk, my oils and soaps line the tub in the bathing chambers.
At some point, without even realizing it, I had settled in.
Thane extends a hand toward me, palm up.
“Come here, my zephyr.”
I reach out, placing my hand in his. He pulls me firmly, though gently, drawing me out of the chair.
He guides me effortlessly into his lap, his arms wrapping around me as though I belonged there all along. I settle against him, drawn into the warmth of his body and the certainty of his presence. His arms tighten around me, keeping me close as I rest my head against his shoulder.
“How do I navigate this?” I ask softly.
I don’t have to explain. Thane knows exactly what I mean.
Kieran.
Especially now, with everything we’ve just learned. With the possibility that his family has been connected to the truth about the Shadow Clan for generations.
Thane presses a kiss to my temple, his arms strong around me.
“Gently,” he murmurs. “You have to be gentle with him.”
He exhales, his breath stirring my hair.
“I imagine getting over you isn’t easy.” His voice is low, thoughtful. “I hope I never have to try.”
Something soft unfurls in my chest. The words settle deep, lingering in the quiet between us. I close my eyes for a moment, letting myself feel them.
Then I lean back just enough to look at him.
“Are you saying you wouldn’t recover?”
A hint of amusement touches his expression, but his hold on me never loosens.
“I’m saying I don’t plan to find out.”
The bond pulses between us, familiar and constant. I feel it in the certainty that settles through me whenever he’s near. Without thinking, I lean in and kiss him. The fire in the hearth flares slightly in response, sparks dancing up the chimney.
Thane laughs softly against my lips.