Chapter 13
Isat in Taveth's chambers, perched on the edge of his bed with my hands clasped so tightly in my lap that my knuckles had gone white.
The afternoon light filtering through the carved window seemed too bright, too cheerful for the darkness that had settled in my chest after what I'd witnessed in the depths below.
The sound of footsteps in the corridor made me look up, and relief flooded through me when I heard Taveth's familiar tread. I rose quickly, already moving toward the door before it opened, ready to throw myself into his arms and find comfort in his presence.
But when the door swung open, I froze mid-step.
Taveth stood in the doorway, but behind him was another figure that made my heart stop beating entirely. The same height, the same build, the same face—but with black eyes instead of white.
"Tarshi," I whispered, his name barely audible.
Seeing them side by side made the resemblance even more shocking. It wasn't just similarity—they were identical, as if carved from the same stone by the same master sculptor.
Before I could fully process what I was seeing, Tarshi stepped around Taveth and crossed the room in three quick strides. His arms came around me, warm and familiar and safe, and I collapsed against his chest as months of fear and longing crashed over me like a wave.
"You're alive," I sobbed against his chest, my fingers clutching at the familiar fabric of his tunic as if he might disappear if I let go. "You're alive, you're here, you're real."
His arms tightened around me, and I felt the mate bond surge back to life between us—warm and golden and filled with such overwhelming love and relief that it nearly brought me to my knees.
Through that connection, I could feel Sirrax too, somewhere close by, alive and whole and desperate to reach me.
"Shh," Tarshi murmured against my hair, his voice thick with emotion. "I'm here. We're here. We found you."
I pulled back just enough to look up at his face, needing to see his eyes, to confirm this wasn't some cruel dream conjured by my desperate longing.
His black eyes were bright with unshed tears, and when he cupped my face in his hands, his touch was exactly as I remembered—gentle but sure, protective without being possessive.
"How?" I managed through my tears. "How did you find me? I thought—when I saw Sirrax fall during the battle, I thought you were both dead."
"It took us weeks to track you," he said, his thumbs brushing away the tears on my cheeks. "Marcus and the others are here too. We've been searching for you since the moment you disappeared."
He moved toward the large carved chair near the window, settling into it and pulling me into his lap. I curled against him like a child, my face buried in the crook of his neck as he rubbed soothing circles on my back.
"We all came for you," he said quietly. "Marcus, Sirrax, Antonius, Septimus, Jalend, myself—we never stopped looking. We're all safe, though we're being held prisoner for now while the Talfen decide what to do with us."
Relief so intense it was painful flooded through me. They were alive. All of them were alive and here.
Finally, I managed to pull back enough to look at his face, drinking in the sight of those familiar black eyes. But movement in my peripheral vision reminded me that we weren't alone, and I turned to see Taveth still standing near the door, his expression unreadable.
"What's going on?" I asked, looking between them. "How…”
Tarshi's hand stilled on my back, and I felt tension ripple through him. "Brothers," he said quietly, his eyes never leaving Taveth's face. "We're twin brothers."
My mind reeled as I tried to process this information. Brothers. Twins. It explained the identical faces but raised so many other questions that I didn't know where to begin.
"That's impossible," I whispered, though even as I spoke, pieces began clicking into place. The strange familiarity I'd felt when I first saw Taveth, the way something in my chest had recognized him even as my mind recoiled. "How can you be twins and not know about each other?"
"Separated as children," Taveth said from his position by the door, his voice carefully controlled. "I was brought here when my shadow magic manifested. He was left behind with our mother."
I could feel the pain radiating from both of them through my connections—Tarshi's ache of abandonment, Taveth's guilt over a choice that hadn't been his to make.
The mate bond with Tarshi was singing with renewed strength, but underneath it I could sense the complex tangle of emotions surrounding this revelation.
"Your father?" I asked.
"Alive," Tarshi said grimly. "But consumed by shadow madness. He's in the care chambers below."
My blood turned to ice. The care chambers. The place Patir had shown me, where broken shadow mages lived out their days in madness and despair. I pushed away the memory before either of them could sense by distress.
I looked over at Taveth, who had remained silent through this reunion.
His shadows writhed restlessly around his feet, and I could see the tension in every line of his body.
This couldn't be easy for him—watching me collapse into another man's arms, seeing the mate bond flare back to life between Tarshi and me.
"Taveth," I said gently, extending one hand toward him while keeping the other wrapped around Tarshi. "Come here."
For a moment, I thought he might refuse. The shadows around him pulsed with what felt like jealousy and pain. But then he crossed the room slowly, settling on the edge of the bed near the chair where Tarshi held me.
I could feel the conflict radiating from him through our mate bond—a tangle of possessiveness, grief, and something that might have been relief. When he was close enough, I reached out and took his hand, intertwining our fingers.
"This doesn't change anything between us," I said quietly, looking into those pale eyes that were so familiar yet so different from Tarshi's. "The bond we share is real."
Taveth's fingers tightened around mine, and I felt some of the tension ease from his shoulders. "I know," he said, though his voice carried uncertainty. "It's just... seeing you with him, feeling how complete your bond is... I understand now why you've been so empty these past weeks."
"Empty?" Tarshi's voice sharpened, and I felt his arms tighten protectively around me. "What does he mean, empty?"
I hesitated, not wanting to cause more conflict between them, but the mate bond made lying impossible. "The connection between us has been... muted since I've been here. I thought it was distance, or that you might be..." I couldn't finish the sentence.
"Dead," Tarshi said grimly. "We thought the same about you when you disappeared from the battlefield."
"The shadow magic interferes with dragon bonds," Taveth said quietly. "I didn't realize it was affecting you so strongly. I'm sorry."
There was genuine remorse in his voice, and I squeezed his hand gently, before turning to Tarshi.
“Taveth is my mate too,” I said, my chest tightening as I said the words. I knew Tarshi wouldn’t mind, but even so, old fears still lurked beneath the surface of being abandoned, and I knew Tarshi could feel them.
He smiled. “I know. I dreamed of you.” He raised his hand to cup my face, his thumb tracing over my lips before trailing down my neck to where Taveth’s claiming scar lingered above his own. “I watched him take you, claim you…”
I felt heat flood my cheeks at his words, at the implication of what he had witnessed through our bond. The idea that he had experienced Taveth claiming me, had felt what I felt during those intimate moments, was both mortifying and strangely arousing.
"You felt it?" I whispered, my voice barely audible.
Tarshi nodded, his dark eyes never leaving mine. "Every touch. Every sensation. It was... intense." His thumb traced the edge of Taveth's claiming mark, and I shivered at the contact. "I could feel how much you needed it, how much you craved his dominance even as part of you fought against it."
I glanced at Taveth, expecting to see jealousy or anger at this revelation, but his expression was thoughtful rather than hostile.
The shadows around him had stilled, as if he too was processing the implications of what Tarshi was saying.
Tarshi’s thumb continued to trace over Taveth’s mark, and then his own.
"I felt everything. Your fear, your desire, the way you responded to him." His voice dropped lower. "The way you cried out when he claimed you."
I felt my face burn with embarrassment and arousal in equal measure. The thought that Tarshi had experienced that intimate moment, had felt what I felt as Taveth took me for the first time, sent heat pooling low in my belly.
"That connection went both ways," Taveth said quietly, his voice carrying an edge I couldn't quite identify. "I felt it too—your bond with him, the depth of what you shared. It's part of what drove me to claim you so completely."
“We were both there,” said Tarshi.
"Did you enjoy watching?" Taveth asked suddenly, his voice low and rough. There was no anger in the question, only a dark curiosity that made my breath catch.
Tarshi's eyes flicked to his twin brother, and I felt something shift in the air between all three of us. "Yes," he said simply, his honesty cutting through any pretence. "I hated that she was taken from us, but I couldn't deny how beautiful she looked in your arms."
My heart hammered against my ribs as the implications of his words sank in.
The mate bond between Tarshi and me was singing with desire now, fed by his memories of that night and the reality of having me in his arms again.
But underneath it, I could feel Taveth's own arousal building, his shadows responding to the charged atmosphere.