Chapter 13
Rhea
Istand rooted to the cold stone ground, watching Vaylen walk away. Each step carries him farther from me, until he's gone. The pain that crashes through me is physical, visceral, a white-hot blade cutting through every fiber of my body. My knees nearly buckle under its weight.
What have I done?
For all my clever plans and grand visions, I’ve been nothing but an idiot. I thought I knew what sacrifice meant. I thought I understood the game I was playing.
I didn't understand shit.
What I felt for Tahr seemed intense and passionate, but it never pierced me to my soul like this. It never made me feel like I might shatter in my next breath, never made me feel like half of me just walked away.
The worst part was Vaylen's face when I said what we had was short and fleeting. It might have been a year ago, but nothing about what blazed between us these past few weeks was fleeting. No. Instead, it felt eternal, inescapable, written in my bones.
And now I've lost him. The realization hits with such force that a sound escapes me. A half sob, half whimper.
I press my palm to my chest, as if I can physically hold in the pain.
What we had wasn't just broken…. it's obliterated.
The way he looked at me, like I was something vile.
Something unforgivable. I did that. And why?
I don't even understand it. Why did I get on Heratrix and didn't stay to explain?
How did I get here? Why can't I find the beginning of this threat?
—I think I know why, Zephyros says, trying to soothe me with a low hum. And I think you know too.
I run stiff fingers through my hair, wishing I could sweep a hand across my thoughts and knock them off into a void. I can't think clearly with so much fluttering inside my head.
Dragon's breath! Even if I succeed and Embernia's centuries-long bloodshed ends, bringing the dragons back to glory, saving countless lives, it won't matter to him. Not after this. Some betrayals are too wicked for forgiveness.
And what kills me is knowing this is just the beginning. The things I'll have to do... Fuck! He'll hate me with every fiber of his being before this is over. He'll believe me a monster.
I taste salt on my lips and realize I'm crying.
How fucking ironic. Omneira, the prophesied savior who will supposedly gain the power to wield all six elements, blubbering in a castle corridor over a man who now despises her.
I straighten my spine, wipe my face. Let the pain harden into something I can use.
If Vaylen's hatred is the price for saving the realm, I'll pay it.
I'll earn every ounce of that hatred and carry it like armor.
With a resigned sigh, I turn, and there's Tahr. Leaning against the shadows of a tall column, face half-masked by darkness. My stomach drops. How long has he been standing there? Did he witness the entire exchange? Was he swimming through my thoughts while Vaylen ripped my heart out?
I think I know why, Zephyros said just a moment ago. And I think you know too.
The way I abandoned Vaylen and my friends, leaving them trapped in a ring of fire, it had to be Tahr's doing, some suggestion he planted in my head to make me come away when he realized I wouldn't. First slowly, then gaining speed, the seed of suspicion—already planted—takes root in my mind, spreading like poison vines where certitude once grew.
All my past memories from Hearthdale suddenly feel. .. different. Manipulated. Wrong.
I stare at Tahr, his infuriating face half-hidden in shadow. My fingers curl into fists. The urge to lunge at him, to rake my nails across his perfect cheekbones, to wrap my hands around his throat and squeeze until his eyes bulge, it's overwhelming.
But then what?
If I attack him now, I become his enemy. I'll be thrown out of Castle Stonefall, leaving King Craven completely under Tahr's influence. Everything I've sacrificed—Vaylen, my integrity, my place in the Sky Order—will be for nothing.
And what if I'm wrong? The thought cuts through my rage like thunder through a cloud.
What if Tahr didn't manipulate me at all?
What if the choices were mine alone? All I have are suspicions without proof.
I abandoned Vaylen in that ring of fire.
Me. Not Tahr. I need to take responsibility for my actions, unless I can prove they weren't mine.
Breathe, I command myself. Think.
I uncurl my fists, forcing my shoulders to relax. I can't afford to lose control now. Whatever Tahr may have done, whatever he's planning, I need to be smarter, more calculating. I need to play this game better than he does.
"Enjoying the show?" My voice comes out brittle as sun-scorched leaves.
He pushes off the wall, gaze knowing. "I didn't need to watch it. I felt every moment."
Of course he did, and I was too wrapped up in my own pain to notice him slipping into my mind to read my emotions. My defenses collapsed along with my heart.
"Stay. Out. Of. My. Head. I already told you that."
"You're distracted. Emotional." He steps closer, lithe and graceful. "This is exactly why you needed to let him go. Look at you. You're shaking."
"I didn't ask for your critique." I shove past him, needing space, air, anything but the suffocating presence of either of these men.
"Rhea—"
"No." I whirl back. "I'm done. With all of it. The only thing that matters now is Heratrix and those eggs. Men complicate everything. And I'm finished with complications." Let him think this is what it's all about, that I can't see past my broken emotions.
Tahr puts his hands up, backing away. "Take a breath. We'll talk when you're calmer."
Turning, I storm through the castle corridors. The stone walls close in, suffocating me with their weight. The night can't possibly get worse.
And then it does.
Commander Voltguard stands at the end of the hallway, a severe expression etching her face, her posture military-straight. Her brown eyes track me like I'm a dumb squirrel on its way to a lion's maw. I try to skirt around her, keeping my gaze down.
"Wyndward." Her voice stops me cold. "If you ever set foot near Sky's Edge, Fort Ashmire, or any Sky Order post, I'll have you executed for treason before you can take your next breath."
My spine turns to water. Becoming part of The Sky Order has been my whole identity since I was a girl. To be cut off completely...
I force my spine into a straight line, meeting her stare. "You think I'm the enemy, Commander, but I'm fighting for Embernia. For all of us."
"Save your lies for the King."
"It's not lies." My voice rises. "When this is over, when you see what I've accomplished, you'll understand why I made these choices. I will prove you wrong. All of you. Even if it kills me."
"I hope it does," the Commander says with perfect coldness, then turns on her heel and walks away.
I sway on my feet as if she struck me. For so long, I thought I wanted glory and power. Oh, how naive I was.
An hour later, I pace like a caged animal inside the royal guest chambers they've assigned me.
The space reeks of extravagance with its velvet draperies in deep crimson, a four-poster bed with silk sheets embroidered with gold thread, crystal decanters filled with honey-colored liquids I don't intend to touch.
Even the marble fireplace with its ornate dragon carvings mocks me with its perfection.
Zephyros hums steadily in my mind, a gentle vibration that's helping to keep me sane.
—Breathe, little one. The storm will pass.
—I know. I know.
Except I want it to be now. I wish I could reach into my chest, rip out the tangle of emotions festering there, toss them into the crackling fire, and watch them burn until nothing remains but cool, calculated purpose.
A sharp knock breaks my spiral. I know that precise pattern. Three quick taps followed by silence.
Tahr.
I drag myself to the door, yanking it open with more force than necessary. He strides in without waiting for an invitation, eyes scanning the place like he's assessing a battlefield.
"Palatial," he remarks, running a finger along the gilded bedpost. "The King spares no expense for his personal Weaver, I see."
"What do you want?" I plant my feet like roots into the floor. My patience burned away long ago, leaving nothing but scorched anger.
He stalks toward me with that effortless grace that makes my skin flush against my will. His gaze drops to my mouth, lingering. "I've missed you, darling. Truly missed you."
The suggestive purr in his voice ignites something low in my belly. A memory flashes… his lips hot against my neck, hands sliding beneath fabric, skin against skin in darkness. His mouth trailing fire down my stomach. My fingers twisted in white hair as pleasure crests like a wave...
I step back, colliding with the bedpost. Damn him. Damn my body for remembering what I want so badly to forget.
"Don't." The word comes out hoarse.
"Did you forget me so easily?"
I turn away and walk to the window. He follows, and I feel his heat radiating against my back before his fingers brush my hair aside. His breath warms my neck, sending unwanted shivers down my spine.
"I haven't forgotten," he whispers, lips brushing my ear. "The taste of your skin. Those little moans you make when I touch you just right." His hand skims my waist. "I want to hear them again."
My body betrays me with a tremor. His scent—smoke and leather—fills my senses, unleashing more memories. It would be so easy to turn around, to… lose myself in him like before.
"Is that why you came?" My voice sounds thin, breathless. "To seduce me after everything that happened today, after I told you I'm done?"
His fingers trail up my arm, featherlight. "I came because you're fire in my veins, Rhea. Because every moment apart feels like drowning."
I close my eyes, fighting the pull. Part of me wants to surrender, to use his body to just forget. Yes, I can forget and just… be.