Chapter 20 #3
I smirked anyway, masking the unease churning in my chest. “I’d like that.” I leaned in and kissed her. Quick. Easy. Mechanical. The kind of kiss that required no thought, no emotion. The kind that used to be enough. It wasn’t anymore.
The realization hit harder than I expected. I was falling out of love with Jasmine, and I didn’t know if that was the bond warping something inside me… or if this was how I’d really been feeling all along.
I pulled back, turning my attention to my plate, to the low hum of conversation between the unit leaders. Familiar voices. Familiar rhythms. Safe. Empty. And for the first time, that emptiness bothered me.
I stepped into the sparring room just as my unit began to filter in, boots thudding against the mats and blades clinking softly at their sides. My gaze automatically scanned the space until it landed on her. Rynlee. She looked better.
The exhaustion that had haunted her features days ago had lessened. The color was back in her cheeks, her sky-blue eyes seemed clearer. Rest had done her good. I tried not to care, but the weight in my chest lifted, anyway.
“Listen up,” I called, clapping my hands once. “We’re continuing sparring drills. Pick your partners, except Ruin. You’re with me.” She rolled her eyes. Of course she did and crossed her arms, those baby blues locking onto me with a glare.
“I’m still recovering, Aiden,” she replied, defiance laced in every syllable.
“Really? Because you look fine to me,” I shot back with a smirk.
“Of course you’d say that.” She rolled her eyes again.
“Don’t you ever get tired?”
“Tired of what?”
“Of rolling those fucking eyes,” I muttered, arching a brow. My voice came out lower than I intended.
“Not when you’re around,” she snapped, lips twitching at the corners.
Gods, she was infuriating. And fucking stunning.
I charged before she could say another word, sweeping her legs out from under her.
She gasped in surprise as I pinned her beneath me, my hips pressing firmly against hers.
Her figure molded to mine in a way that had me clenching my jaw. The bond. It was just the bond.
“Looks like bed rest made you forget your training,” I commented, voice rough.
But before I could blink, she twisted her body and flipped me onto my back.
I grunted in surprise as she straddled me, her dagger pressed to my neck.
Her eyes gleamed with challenge, fiery, molten orange flashing beneath the blue.
“Or maybe you just keep underestimating me,” she replied, her voice low and steady. Fuck. It was hot. All of it: her power, her defiance, the weight of her hips on mine. I fought the groan rising in my throat.
“You’re right,” I admitted, letting a grin tug at my lips. “But what have I told you about getting distracted?” I grabbed her wrist and bucked hard, flipping her off me. Her dagger clattered as I caught it midair and pressed it to her throat while she landed on her back.
“Yield, Ruin.”
“Never.” She elbowed me in the ribs, and I grunted, loosening my grip just enough for her to twist free. In one swift move, she turned, kicked me square in the stomach, and knocked me back a few paces.
Damn.
“Well, well, well,” I said, catching my breath. “Someone’s growing a spine.” She simply shrugged, all casual indifference, but there was a flicker of pride in her eyes. And I? I was impressed. And maybe, just maybe… a little fucked.
Later that evening, I pressed a soft kiss to Jasmine’s bare shoulder, her skin warm beneath my lips.
She shifted in her sleep, murmuring something unintelligible, already drifting deeper into dreams. And I felt…
nothing. Guilt curled in my chest, slow and heavy.
Jasmine had always been steady. Reliable.
Someone I could count on when everything else felt like chaos.
And now? That connection was fading, thinning like smoke slipping through my fingers. I could feel myself pulling away from her more and more, even as the bond tugged at me in the opposite direction.
It fucking sucked. I lingered for a heartbeat longer than necessary, then quietly pulled my leathers back on, careful not to wake her. I cast one last look over my shoulder before slipping out of the room, shutting the door behind me without a sound.
The shadows gathered instantly, familiar and obedient, wrapping around me like old friends as I moved through the empty halls.
They whispered softly to my ear, ancient murmurs, watchful, reassuring, telling me the coast was clear.
I passed through the outer gates and headed toward the small town just beyond the academy’s reach.
The tavern, The Arc, was quiet tonight, the air thick with smoke and stale ale. I spotted Derek in the back, exactly where I expected him to be, honey-colored eyes sharp beneath the brim of his hood.
“Hey, Derek,” I muttered, taking the seat across from him.
“Hey, man.” He took a slow sip of ale, then leaned in slightly. “The rumors are true. The High King is pulling black magic from Celetian. And everyone around here is doing their damned best to keep it buried, including the High Council.”
I leaned forward, resting my forearms on the battered wood. “Yeah. The professors at Arcanna are the same way. Like something has them by the throat.”
“That’s because something does,” Derek replied, voice low and sharp. “He does.”
My eyes narrowed. “You mean the High King?”
Derek nodded once. “He’s got them in his pocket.
One way or another. Think about it, if he’s tapping into black magic from the mountain, if it is making him stronger, you think he’s going to share that power?
No. Black magic doesn’t work that way. It hoards.
It corrupts. You feed it, or it feeds on you.
My guess? The professors have either been paid off…
or threatened into silence.” The weight of his words settled over me like a storm cloud.
“It’s getting worse, Aiden,” he added, his tone darker now, raw with something I rarely saw in him—fear.
“What do you mean?” He didn’t answer at first. Just stared into the froth of his mug as if it might hold absolution.
Then, quietly, “Even the Blood Assassins are on edge. Keiran hasn’t slept in days. He said he senses it, something’s moving. Something old.”
A shiver ran down my spine. “What is it?”
Derek looked up, eyes grim. “I don’t know exactly. Not yet. But I think that parchment we found last time, the one with that prophecy?
When light forgets its name, and night no longer listens to the moon, the mountain will bleed shadow, and gods will fall like ash into the sea.”
He paused, then said it again, softer. “That wasn’t a myth. It wasn’t some lost relic.”
“It was a warning,” I finished, voice flat.