Chapter 21 Vaylen
Vaylen
I’ve been watching Rhealyn all night, tracking the subtle shifts in her expression. The curve of her smile as she laughs at something Breezehart says. The shadow that crosses her face when Nate Torchfist speaks with a sad expression. The fierce determination that quickly returns to her features.
“Stormsong?” Dakar’s voice cuts through my thoughts. “What more interestin’ places has your mind wandered off to?”
“Nowhere. I’m present,” I reply automatically, though it’s a lie.
Dakar snorts, unconvinced. His eyes flick meaningfully between Rhealyn and me before he takes another pull from his tankard.
He’s known something was amiss since Hearthdale, the way I refused to abandon the search, my reluctance to leave the place even after we found no sign of her. A man like Dakar misses little.
“The eastern ridge needs reinforcement,” Eleonora says. “Don’t you think, Vaylen?”
“We discussed that earlier with the other Primes,” I say. “Commander Voltguard will determine deployments based on the new intelligence reports.”
Eleonora leans closer, glaring. A year ago, I made my position clear and told her there could be nothing between us. She’d respected that boundary until now, until Rhealyn’s return.
Across the table, Rhealyn frowns. The candlelight catches in her dark eyes. There’s a load there, heavier than before. What happened to her during that lost year? The question haunts me.
“We could discuss strategy privately later,” Eleonora suggests, her voice dropping to a whisper. “I have some insights about the Screechclaw movements that might interest you.”
What is the seven hells is the matter with her? This is overt.
“Submit your observations in writing,” I reply, my tone formal. “I’ll review them with the other Primes.”
Dakar chuckles into his drink. “Colder than an Ivorycrest Skytide, ain’t ya?”
Eleonora’s hand brushes mine beneath the table, and I withdraw it immediately. Her boldness is unprecedented and unwelcome. The subtle dance she used to perform has suddenly become a declaration of intent, visible enough for Dakar to comment. I must exert control over the situation.
Once more, my attention is divided. Rhealyn stiffens suddenly, her eyes going distant. Something’s wrong. Without thinking, I push my chair back, ready to go to her.
Eleonora’s hand clamps around my wrist. “Vaylen, you can’t possibly—”
“Don’t,” I command quietly, looking down at her hand.
Her fingers tighten briefly before falling away. “She’s trouble. You should hear all the things they’re saying about her.”
“I don’t know what you’re suggesting, but rumors mean nothing to me.”
“Such unnecessary tension,” Morwenna comments, her voice carrying just enough to reach our end of the table.
“Our dear Eleonora should recognize that a relationship between a leader and one of his Clutch…” she and Madeline exchange identical disapproving glances at Eleonora “…would never be allowed, much less one between two bonded Skyriders. Our cousin’s bowels would loosen simply at the thought. ”
“The King’s constitution isn’t a suitable topic for dinner conversation,” I respond, my voice tight.
Madeline completes her sister’s thought. “The rules exist for good reason. Bonded Skyriders can get greedy.”
I stand abruptly. This conversation has veered into dangerous territory. My feelings for Rhealyn must remain private—at least beyond those who know me best. For their part, my friends need to shut their mouths.
“I’d appreciate it if you cease all speculation. The political balance here is already precarious enough without all this nonsense.” After a pause, I add, “I have reports to review before morning.” I bow slightly before turning away.
The truth is simpler and more complicated. I’ve spent a year mourning Rhealyn, a year wondering what I could have done differently. Now she’s returned, and nothing—not duty, not propriety, not even my own better judgment—will keep me from her side. I need to be alone with her tonight.
I walk briskly toward the door, pausing only once to look back. Rhealyn’s head is bent toward Phoebe’s. In moments like these, I envy the simple camaraderie they share, unburdened by titles and responsibilities.
The night air clears my thoughts as I climb the winding path to Fort Ashmire. Stars pierce the velvet darkness above, reminding me of navigation lessons at the Academy. Even the clearest markers offer little guidance for my current dilemma though.
What I desire runs counter to everything I’ve stood for.
It was bad enough when the High Prime was entangled with a woman who was merely his subordinate, but now she’s wanted for murder.
Moreover, she’s a Weaver—the rift between us seeming to gape wider than ever.
In desperate moments, I fear what all of this could mean.
Yet I can’t bear another night separated from her. Not after a year of emptiness.
My footsteps quicken as an idea occurs to me. There may be one place where she might meet me.
RHEA
I watch Vaylen’s broad shoulders disappear through the tavern door. Something in his rigid posture tugs at me.
“Time to head back,” Adelaide yawns. “I’m about to fall face-first into my drink.”
The four of us walk together toward the fort, the night air crisp against my flushed skin. Ahead of us, Nate and Phoebe’s hands find each other, fingers intertwining with practiced ease. Their shoulders bump together as they whisper and laugh.
“I need some air,” I announce once we reach the main courtyard. “You all go ahead.”
Phoebe nods with understanding. “You have your old spot in the barracks next to me. Make sure to get some rest.”
I wave them off, watching as they separate at the corridor junction. Nate pulls Phoebe close, kissing her deeply before heading toward the men’s quarters. They don’t hide their affection. Why should they? Same rank, different Clutch. No rules broken.
A sour taste fills my mouth. Envy. They can have what Vaylen and I can’t. Openness, simplicity. No furtive glances or carefully maintained distances.
I lean against the stone wall, the coolness seeping through my shirt. What would happen if I just walked to Vaylen’s quarters right now? Would he welcome me? Or send me away in the name of duty? I have a feeling it wouldn’t be the latter.
The thought puts a smile on my face. I imagine Vaylen waiting for me, ready to make more mistakes and pick up right where we left off that long ago night in the Dragon’s Teeth Range.
Heat crawls up my neck as flashes of that night flood my mind.
His hands in my hair, the scrape of stone against my back, our bodies finding each other in the dim glow of that hidden cave.
His mouth hot against my neck, his hands caressing my breasts, the way he whispered my name like a prayer.
“Not helping,” I mutter to myself, pushing off from the wall.
Going to his quarters would be too dangerous. Anyone could see me slipping into the High Prime’s door like a thief in the night.
Then something occurs to me. My feet move before my mind fully forms the thought, carrying me through the courtyard. The shadows deepen as I approach a recessed doorway, hidden from casual view by a jutting column.
This doorway. Our doorway.
Where Vaylen once pinned me against the cold stone, his mouth claiming mine with unexpected ferocity. Where we promised each other we wouldn’t be with anyone else, his voice rough with possessiveness that should have offended me but instead sent lightning down my spine.
A dark silhouette pulls away from the recessed space as I approach. My breath catches. I’d recognize Vaylen’s imposing form anywhere. Without thought, I take two long strides and wrap my arms around his neck, kissing him with abandon.
He responds instantly, pulling me into the recess as if I weigh nothing, pressing me against the wall. The weight of his body becomes a salve to all my worries. His hands tangle in my hair as his mouth claims mine with a year’s worth of longing.
“I hoped you’d come,” he whispers against my lips, his voice rough with desire.
“We had the same idea,” I say, breathless.
He laughs “We did. Just couldn’t bear to go to my quarters. Not with you so close.”
His confession ignites something wild inside me. I pull him closer, my fingers digging into his shoulders.
“I should have climbed through your window that first night back,” I say, nipping at his bottom lip. “Rules be damned.”
Vaylen laughs again, low and warm against my neck. “And how long would the fortress gossip take to reach the wrong person’s ears?”
“Let them talk. It means nothing to me.” But even as I say it, I know it’s not true. His position matters. Mine too, precarious as it is.
“You care,” he says, seeing through me as always. “And so do I. But right now...”
His mouth finds mine again, harder this time, more urgent. The rock wall chills my spine while his frame scorches against my chest. The contrast makes me gasp.
“We’re playing with fire,” I whisper, even as my hands slip beneath his shirt, tracing the hard planes of his chest.
“I’ve been so cold for a year,” Vaylen murmurs, “that tonight, I’d gladly burn.”
His hardness presses against my stomach. Memories flash through my mind—his perfect size filling me completely, stretching me to my limits in that mountain cave. A jolt of raw need shoots straight to my core, and suddenly I’m drowning in desire.
“Vaylen,” I gasp as his hands roam over my body, relearning curves and hollows. His contact sears through my clothes.
He drags his mouth down the column of my throat, teeth grazing the sensitive spot below my ear. I bite my lip to keep from crying out as my head falls back against the stone.
“I’ve thought about this every night for a year,” he growls against my skin. “Dreamed of you. Woke up aching.”
My body feels like it’s catching fire from the inside out. Heat blooms across my skin, pooling low in my belly and between my thighs. I arch against him, shameless in my need.
“Fuck the rules,” I hiss, hooking a leg around his waist to pull him closer. “Fuck duty.”
His hand slides up my thigh, fingers digging into my flesh as he lifts me higher against the wall. The move brings him perfectly aligned with my center, and I have to swallow another gasp.
“Anyone could walk by,” he whispers, even as his hips rock against mine.
“Let them.” I grab his face between my hands, my gaze diving into his. “Who cares? I want you. Now.”
The recklessness of it thrills me. After a year of darkness and nothing, I need to feel everything—the danger, the passion, his hands on my skin. The thought of getting caught only sharpens my need to a knife’s edge.
Voices nearby.
Vaylen tenses, his breathing ragged against my neck. With visible effort, he pulls back, his hands gripping my shoulders to create space between us.
The voices move away.
After a moment, he says, “Not like this.”
“What?” I blink, my body still humming with need. “Don’t stop now.”
His eyes burn into mine, pupils blown wide with desire that matches my own. “You deserve better than being taken against a wall where anyone could walk by.”
“It doesn’t make a difference—”
“It does.” His thumb traces my lower lip, the tenderness of the gesture at odds with the fierce hunger in his gaze. “What we have, it’s not something to hide in shadows and doorways. Yes, we need to be discreet, but I won’t have this reduced to hurried encounters in corners.”
I want to argue, to pull him back against me. My body screams for his touch, for completion.
“You’re a goddamn tease, Stormsong,” I growl, frustrated and still wanting.
He laughs, the sound rough. “Says the woman who walked right up and kissed me senseless.”
“I didn’t hear you complaining.” I tug at his shirt, but he captures my wrists.
“I want more. So much more.” His voice drops to a whisper that sends shivers down my spine. “Time. Privacy. You, fully naked. A proper bed where I can take my time with you.”
The images his words create make my knees weak.
“I’ll figure something out,” he promises. “Just like our cave in the mountains. Somewhere private.”
“When?” I demand, impatient as always.
His smile turns wicked. “Tomorrow night. And I’ll make you scream my name until your voice gives out.”
The promise in his words leaves me breathless. “You better deliver, High Prime.”
“Count on it, Skysinger Wyndward.” He steals one last kiss before slipping away into the darkness.
I watch his shadow disappear around the corner, my body still humming with unfulfilled want. Damn him and his noble intentions. I take deep breaths, willing my racing heart to slow.
Then, for no apparent reason, I remember the vision at the tavern. The stone table, Tahranis Flarebane, the chanters, the cloak. I should have told Vaylen about it. The thought sobers me somewhat. My personal wishes can’t matter more than understanding what happened to me during that missing year.
“Wyrm’s rot,” I mutter, pushing away from the wall. I consider chasing after him but think better of it. Tomorrow. I’ll tell him tomorrow before we meet for our... whatever it is he’s planning.
The barracks are mercifully quiet when I arrive, most of the bunks occupied by sleeping forms. Light from a single candle flickers at the far end where Phoebe sits up in her bed, a book open on her lap. She looks up as I enter, her eyebrows arching slightly at my disheveled appearance.
“Nice walk?” she whispers, her tone deliberately neutral but her eyes knowing.
“Fresh air does wonders,” I reply with forced casualness, avoiding her gaze.
She doesn’t press further, just watches me with that quiet, observant expression of hers. No judgment, just concern wrapped in understanding.
I strip down to my underclothes, acutely aware of how flushed my skin remains. The cool air raises goosebumps along my arms, but fails to extinguish the heat deep within my belly.
“Goodnight,” Phoebe says softly as she extinguishes her candle.
I slip under the covers, my body a riot of sensations. Sleep seems impossible with my blood still running hot, and my mind filled with promises of tomorrow night.
“Night,” I whisper back, staring into the darkness.
As I close my eyes, visions of amber eyes and stone tables battle with memories of Vaylen’s hands on my skin. I drift off eventually, burning from the inside out with both desire and awful foreboding.