CHAPTER EIGHTEEN #2
Thalia opened her mouth to argue, but Luna's hand on her wrist stopped her. A warning squeeze: Don't make this worse.
She sank back onto the bench, a hollow feeling expanding in her chest as Wolfe continued outlining preparations for Frostforge's defense. The words washed over her, meaningless against the roaring in her ears.
They were leaving. Both of them. And she would remain behind, helpless to protect either from what awaited in Warden waters.
***
Thalia paced the narrow side corridor that branched from the main forge, her footfalls echoing against stone walls still warm from the day's work.
She'd waited nearly three hours, watching the steady stream of workers filing past the junction, their faces smudged with soot and fatigue.
Twice, she'd almost abandoned her vigil, convinced Kaine had taken another route back to his quarters.
But then she caught a glimpse of his broad shoulders, the distinctive set of his stance as he paused to speak with one of his apprentices.
Her heart hammered against her ribs as she stepped into his path, arms crossed, blocking the narrow passageway with her slight frame—a gesture more symbolic than practical. He could easily move past her if he chose. But he wouldn't. And they both knew it.
"Thalia," he said, her name a sigh of resignation. He dismissed the apprentice with a nod before turning back to her. "I thought you might be waiting."
"Were you planning to avoid me until you left?" She kept her voice low, mindful of the occasional forge worker passing the corridor's entrance.
"No." His eyes held hers steadily. "I was going to find you. After I finished preparations."
"Preparations." She nearly spat the word. "For your suicide mission."
Something flickered across his face—not guilt, but a shadow of acknowledgment. He glanced past her to ensure they were alone, then guided her deeper into the corridor where jutting stonework created a small alcove, sheltered from both sight and sound of the main passage.
"Why?" she demanded once they were hidden, her whisper sharp enough to cut. "Why volunteer? The reconnaissance was part of Roran’s probation, and that was bad enough. You didn't have to involve yourself."
"You know exactly why," Kaine replied, his voice level despite the heat in hers. "Roran can't go alone."
“You didn’t have to suggest he would betray us,” Thalia hissed, her fingers curling into fists. “Why would you say that, in front of the entire hall?”
Kaine folded his arms. “I said what I had to say. I needed Wolfe to agree to me joining the mission.”
"It's a death sentence," she said, hating the tremor that betrayed her. "No one has ever sailed out to the archipelago and returned."
"That’s an exaggeration,” Kaine said wryly. “And you know it.”
Thalia turned away, pressing her palm against the cool stone wall. She tried to master the storm of emotions churning within her—fear, anger, helplessness, and something deeper that she wasn't ready to name.
"Is this about Roran?" she asked finally, the question that had circled her thoughts since the assembly.
Kaine was quiet for so long that she turned back to face him, finding his expression contemplative, measuring his words carefully.
"Not in the way you think," he said finally. "I'm not trying to prove anything or compete with him." His eyes met hers, dark and earnest. "But I can't pretend I don't have feelings for you, Thalia. And I can't pretend I don't know you have feelings for him."
The blunt honesty struck her like a physical blow.
She'd kissed them both—Roran in the aftermath of the attack, a moment of relief and joy that he was alive and free; Kaine in the forge, a different kind of connection, rooted in shared purpose and understanding.
Two men, two paths, and her heart caught between them.
"I can't pursue you while Roran is in danger," Kaine continued softly. "Not when I know that anything between us would be shadowed by your worry for him. I'd always wonder if I was just a distraction." A rueful smile touched his lips. "And I want to be more than that to you."
Thalia's throat tightened. There was no jealousy in his words, no bitterness—only a clear-eyed understanding of what stood between them.
"So you're going with him to make sure he comes back safely," she said. "For my sake."
"Partly," he admitted. "But also because it's the right thing to do. For Frostforge. For all of us." He stepped closer, near enough that she could feel the warmth radiating from him. "I've never run from danger, Thalia. You know that about me."
She did know. It was one of the things she admired about him—his steadfast courage, his willingness to face what others fled. The same quality that now sent him toward Warden waters.
"I can't lose you both," she whispered, the words escaping before she could stop them.
Kaine's hand rose, hovering near her cheek but not quite touching. "You won't," he promised. "We’ll come back."
"You can't know that."
He hesitated, then seemed to come to a decision. "Do you still have the pendant I gave you? At your graduation?"
The question caught her off guard. "Of course," she said. The small, silver chip of metal had been in her pocket or beside her bunk since Kaine had gifted it to her.
"Keep it close," he said. "Wear it. I made it myself, and it bears a simple enchantment.”
Thalia's brow furrowed. "What are you saying?"
“You’ll know when I’m returning,” Kaine told her softly. “You’ll always be the first to know—if you wear that pendant.”
***
Dawn painted the fjord in shades of pearl and silver, the water still as polished glass beneath a sky that promised warmth but delivered none.
Thalia stood at the edge of the eastern dock, her body angled away from the small gathering near the moorings where Roran and Kaine made final preparations for departure.
She'd chosen this spot deliberately—close enough to witness their leaving, far enough that she wouldn't be tempted to rush forward, to plead one last time to accompany them.
Her goodbyes had already been said in private, away from curious eyes and wagging tongues.
Now all that remained was to watch the fjord swallow them whole, like so many others who had sailed against the Isle Wardens and never returned.
The vessel awaiting them was a mere skiff, one of the many that Frostforge used to train its students in maritime combat—narrow and low to the water, its weathered hull stained dark by salt and use.
The very ordinariness of it was its protection.
In Warden waters, a military vessel would be spotted and sunk within hours. This humble boat might pass unnoticed.
Provided its occupants could maintain the deception.
Thalia's fingers closed around the railing, the wood smooth beneath her palm from years of similar grips, similar vigils.
How many had stood where she now stood, watching loved ones depart on missions from which they never returned?
The thought sent a chill through her that had nothing to do with the morning air.
Movement near the skiff drew her attention.
Senna had arrived. She wore her formal uniform, her bearing as rigid as the ice-steel blade at her hip.
Thalia watched as she approached Kaine, her steps precise, shoulders squared.
Even from this distance, Thalia could read the tension in the other woman's frame.
Whatever words passed between them were lost to the gentle lapping of waves against the dock pilings, but their body language spoke volumes.
Senna's formal posture was crumbling as she stepped forward, arms circling Kaine's neck in an embrace that spoke of history, of shared understanding.
His hands settled at her waist, neither pulling her closer nor pushing her away—accepting the gesture without returning its full measure.
Something twisted in Thalia's chest, sharp and bitter.
She looked away, focusing instead on the distant mountains that cradled the fjord in their rugged embrace.
It wasn't jealousy, she told herself. Couldn't be.
Not when her own feelings remained so hopelessly tangled.
Yet the sight of Senna in Kaine's arms awakened a primal possessiveness she hadn't known herself capable of feeling.
Senna knew Kaine in ways Thalia didn't—had known him longer, shared parts of his life that remained closed to others. There was history between them, powerful enough that rumors had circulated since Thalia's first days at Frostforge. Yet Kaine had kissed Thalia, not Senna.
At least, as far as she was aware, after all, she had seen fit to kiss both Kaine and Roran; perhaps Kaine's heart was equally torn.
The complexity of it all made her head ache. Or perhaps that was simply the result of two nights spent in restless, anxious wakefulness.
Her fingers found the pendant that hung at her throat, the metal warm against her skin from constant contact.
She'd retrieved it from her belongings as soon as she'd returned to her quarters after their conversation in the forge corridor, studying it with new eyes.
The disc was simple in design—a silver circle no larger than a coin.
A shout from the docks pulled her from her thoughts.
The mooring lines were being cast off, the skiff's small sail unfurling to catch what little breeze stirred across the fjord's surface.
Roran stood at the tiller, his wild curls already tamed into a tight knot at the nape of his neck.
Kaine moved with practiced efficiency, adjusting the sail's tension to maximize their speed.
They made an unlikely pair—the Southern merchant's son with his storm-caller's heritage and the Northern outcast with his forge-hardened hands. Different in temperament, in background, in approach. Yet united in purpose. And in their connection to her.
The skiff slipped away from the dock, gathering momentum as it caught the current that would carry it toward the fjord's mouth. In a few hours, they would reach the open sea. In a few days, they would enter waters where Warden patrols hunted relentlessly for intruders.
And Thalia would remain here, waiting, wondering, working to solve a puzzle whose pieces lay scattered across centuries.
She watched until the vessel was just a speck against the silver water, her chest aching with an emotion she couldn't name—some complex blend of fear and hope and regret. Somewhere in that tangle of feeling was love, though for which man, she couldn't say with certainty, perhaps for both.