Chapter 13 #2
Serenna’s laugh spilled free as she tugged him toward her bedchamber. They barely left the balcony before three sharp knocks cracked against the suite door.
The sound split her open like lightning. Serenna froze, stomach plunging. She already knew.
Fenn caught the way her expression faltered. With a wry shrug, he slipped free of her grip before warping across the sitting room. In a blink, he reappeared at the entryway, swinging the door open.
Spine stiff, Serenna hurried to the center of the chamber. Vesryn stood on the other side, jaw locked, shoulders tight as he glared at Fenn.
Obscuring the prince’s view, Fenn braced an arm lazily against the doorframe, talons idly scoring the wood. Like she hadn’t been about to drag him into her sheets.
Like she hadn’t come undone with Vesryn on Naru’s back that morning.
Vesryn shifted just enough to look past Fenn, gaze locking with hers.
Shame flared beneath Serenna’s skin. The bond betrayed her with threads of want still cooling from Fenn’s touch—too late to smother, too raw to bury. Vesryn would feel it as surely as his own pulse, whether she willed it or not.
“I…wanted to see if you were ready for dinner,” Vesryn said, voice measured and tight, ignoring Fenn entirely. “But if you’re in the middle of something, I’ll—”
“I won’t say no to an appetizer,” Fenn cut in, smooth as smoke, tossing her a wink.
The blood drained from Serenna’s face as words deserting her. Fenn struck flint to kindling, and she couldn’t tell yet if the fire would burn them all at once.
Vesryn didn’t move, but his fingers curled in slowly, knuckles whitening. “I’ll see you two on the terrace.” A breath flared from his nostrils. “Or I won’t.”
He turned on his heel, stalking down the hall.
Chest tight, Serenna stayed rooted as Fenn leaned out of the room, calling after him. “Where do you think you’re going, princeling?”
Vesryn didn’t slow. “Since you two clearly have other plans for the evening,” he clipped, not looking back, “I’ll leave you to them.”
Fenn warped, then reappeared back in the sitting room with Vesryn caught fast in his grip. The bond spiked with the prince’s fury as he staggered free, spinning on Fenn with a snarl.
Fenn flicked his wrist and a pulse of force slammed the door shut. Serenna flinched as the latch clicked, sealing them in. Gaze leveling on her and Vesryn, Fenn folded his arms and planted himself in front of the doorway.
“Didn’t say Serenna had to be the only course,” he drawled, eyes raking over Vesryn with a look that lingered too long to be polite.
Serenna winced. “Fenn,” she warned, before Vesryn’s temper could ignite. “We should go. Jassyn and Lykor are probably—”
“No.”
Fenn’s word split the air cleanly, cutting her short.
His gaze slid between her and the prince, steady and unflinching. “From where I’m standing, neither of you has the spine to name what you want.”
Serenna shifted under the weight of the accusation even though he hadn’t raised his voice.
“You both care,” Fenn went on. “But that’s not rare. Plenty of people feel the spark. What matters is what you do when the fire bites back.”
His eyes locked on Vesryn. A muscle jumped in the prince’s jaw as he squared his shoulders, but he said nothing.
“And right now?” Fenn continued, gaze swinging back to her. “You’re both bolting in opposite directions.”
Serenna hesitantly met Vesryn’s eyes, an unspoken ache rising between them. She meant to say something—she was the one who’d tangled them all—but the moment slipped, and they both looked away as silence sank in its teeth.
“That’s not love,” Fenn said softly. “That’s fear hiding behind a closed jaw, waiting for someone else to speak first.”
He let the words fall like a blade, daring either of them to reach for it.
Serenna opened her mouth—to smooth, to pivot, to lay down some diplomatic balm that might blunt Vesryn’s sharp edges and buy her air.
Fenn lifted a claw. “Don’t,” he said, already reading the shape of what she reached for. “You’re leaning away again. Don’t make it easy for him to leave before either of you says what you want.”
Vesryn’s eyes flashed. “You think you know what I’m feeling?”
Fenn didn’t rise to the challenge. “I’m asking you to say it,” he said, gaze steady. “To her.”
“I don’t need to play whatever game this is,” Vesryn hissed. “I know how it ends. I lose.”
“That’s not true,” Serenna cut in. She stepped closer, carefully, like the floor might crack beneath her. “Fenn’s right. We haven’t spoken of this. Not together.”
Vesryn’s shoulders dropped, the motion defeated. “I was never going to make you choose between us,” he said quietly.
Jaw tight, he faltered, and Serenna sensed him warring to restrain the truth.
“I drove you to him in the first place,” Vesryn said at last, his voice splintering.
He faced Fenn fully, his expression shattered.
“I hate that it’s you,” he rasped. “I hate how easily you make her laugh. How you saw what she needed before I did, and you gave it without hesitation. Like I wasn’t even trying.
” A breath staggered from him, shallow and shaking.
“But I was. I’ve always been trying. I’ve just never figured out how to reach for something without fucking it up. ”
He looked back at Serenna, hurt wavering in his eyes. “You finding something with him doesn’t make me want you less. It never did. Maybe the bond is what brought us together, but I don’t want a future written by fate.”
His eyes flicked toward Fenn, a glance that admitted what had been built without him, even if it stung. When he looked back, the words scraped bare.
“What you have with him—you chose that. I want the same chance. Not because the stars aligned us together, but because you’d want to be with me too.”
The confession struck like a missed stair in the dark. Serenna stepped forward, claiming the ground he no longer guarded.
“And you can live with it?” Her whisper cut across the silence. “When I’m with Fenn? If I let myself want both of you? Is that even fair?”
“I’ve already lived with it,” Vesryn growled. “You’re with him. He’s with Koln. And you think I can’t handle the same?”
“I’m not asking either of you to decide tonight,” Fenn said gently, like someone who’d walked through a similar fire and hadn’t been burned.
“But I’m not letting either of you torch this because you can’t say aloud what’s been smoldering between you.
” He met Vesryn’s gaze, without heat or challenge, and shrugged.
“You matter to her. That’s reason enough for me. ”
Vesryn’s jaw flexed. “It should be obvious I’m not interested in you.”
The corner of Fenn’s mouth twitched. Serenna knew a quip was itching there, but he sheathed it with a smirk.
The quiet that followed throbbed with hesitation, crowding her chest as their attention turned to her.
“You both matter to me,” Serenna said, her voice steadier than she felt. “I know I won’t do this perfectly. But I want more—with both of you. And I won’t wound either of you with silence again.”
Her eyes found Vesryn’s, meeting the longing etched across his face, the ache of someone still learning how to open without breaking.
“And you’re right. I want what’s between us to be something we claim together.
Not because the bond intertwined us. I want you, and I don’t want to lose what we still have. ”
Then she turned to Fenn, who held space without pressing.
“I don’t want to lose what we’ve built either.
Maybe I’ve been afraid to name it, but I’ll fight for this.
For both of you.” Her throat tightened, but she forced the words free.
“I know it won’t be easy. And I know what it costs you—both of you—to stand here and want me anyway.
That’s not something I’ll ever take lightly. ”
Serenna knew it wasn’t a resolution, but it was the first unshaken truth laid between them. And no one looked away.
Fenn exhaled theatrically, raking his talons through his hair, mouth tipping back into a curve. “Well,” he drawled, “no one’s storming off. I’ll count that as progress. Dinner, then?” He tilted his head, eyeing the prince. “Or is anyone else in the mood for something a little less…formal?”
Serenna blurted a laugh as Vesryn made a strangled sound—half growl, half sigh. His jaw worked, a retort winding up before stalling in a defeated grunt.
Fenn just grinned, sauntering toward the door. “Let’s go. I’d bet a fang Jassyn and Lykor came back from the Maw with something that’ll need a few sips of nectar to pry loose.” He didn’t look back, already halfway down the corridor.
“This is going to be…trying,” Vesryn muttered.
Yet his hand still found hers, fingers curling tight with a squeeze that promised he meant to stay. And she held on.