Chapter 40
Chapter
Forty
SABLE
T orin is carrying me through the keep like I weigh nothing, and I can’t help but roll my eyes at his antics. “You can put me down now, Torin,” I say, trying to sound firm, but I know he won’t listen. I already feel the warmth of his body against mine, and something stirs in me. I'm starting not to mind that it does, especially towards Torin. He's always been the nicest and most fun.
“Where’s the fun in that?” he says with that infuriating grin of his, one that I can’t quite ignore. He’s always so insufferably confident. I envy it. While I'm growing into my own, I still have a lot of doubts about myself that can really mess with my head. I wish I could just cast it all off and be as carefree as Torin.
“Do you have food in your Chambers?” I ask, changing the subject to something I can focus on.
Torin chuckles, a low, smooth sound that vibrates through his chest. “Of course. I can always get food brought up if you’re hungry.”
I huff, crossing my arms over my chest even though I’m in his arms. “Why do I have to be kept away from everyone? Why can’t I just eat where everyone else eats?”
Torin’s expression shifts, and I see that mischievous glint in his eyes. “Do you remember what happened last time you ran around the keep? You got yourself a duel with Rothgar in the Trials. So, I'll be keeping you close, kitten.”
I roll my eyes at the reminder. “If I get to fight and kill warlocks, then I want to run around more.”
Torin laughs again, and I can’t help but smile at the sound of it. He’s impossible.
He carries me down the winding hallways with ease, and I can’t help but notice that the more time I spend with him, the more I’m getting used to his presence. It’s... comforting .
We stop at his chambers, and I realize I’ve never been inside before. His door creaks open, and I’m met with a surprisingly intimate space. It’s not tidy, but it’s not a mess either. There are papers scattered across a desk by the window, books piled up in one corner, and clothes draped over the back of a chair. The scent of wood, something faintly herbal, and a trace of spice fills the air, and it makes the room feel... lived in, familiar.
There’s a low, plush rug in the center of the floor, and a large bed with a dark canopy hanging above it, the velvet fabric a rich shade of deep crimson. The lighting is soft, the glow of a nearby fire flickering warmly. The walls are adorned with dark tapestries, muted colors that seem to reflect his mood more than his personality, though there’s something about the room that screams Torin—chaotic but undeniably attractive, just like him.
It’s nothing like Kael’s or Finn’s chambers. Their rooms always feel cold, formal, like they were designed to impress, not to feel. Finn's is filled with meticulously arranged objects, everything in its place—sterile, calculated, almost unnerving in its precision. Kael's has its own order, but it’s one born of distant practicality, with shelves of books and papers, yet always with an underlying air of something contained . Torin’s space, though—this room—feels different. It feels alive. It’s a perfect reflection of who he is, untamed and wild, with just enough beauty to keep you coming back for more.
He sets me down on the edge of a couch near the fire and walks over to the door. “I’ll have food brought up,” he says, giving me a quick look. “Make yourself comfortable, kitten.”
I settle back, watching him for a moment before I finally let out a sigh. “Thanks,” I murmur, feeling a little off balance. I hate how comfortable he makes me feel, even in moments like this when I’m still not quite sure where I stand. There’s a part of me that wants to resist, that wants to pull away from the warmth of his presence, from the ease of being around him. It’s unsettling.
But then there’s another part of me—the part that’s been buried beneath all the anger, the hurt, and the years of my family’s destruction—that yearns for something like this. Comfort. I’ve spent so long focused on my oath to avenge my family, on the fire of vengeance burning through me, that I’ve put everything else aside. But these warlocks didn’t kill my family. They didn’t destroy my world, and yet here I am, surrounded by them. The betrayal of my family, my duty—it still weighs on me, and yet the more I see of them, the more they’ve become... something else .
Kael, with his moments where he lets down his ice, showing the fragility beneath the surface. Finn, with the way he’s determined to help me train, to help me understand my powers. And Torin—damn Torin, with his chaotic energy, with the way he cares for me without needing anything in return. I feel myself falling —more than falling. I feel like I’m starting to love them, each in their own way, and it terrifies me. I hate it. I hate that this thing, whatever it is, is growing inside me. It’s a weakness. It makes me vulnerable .
As Torin walks out of the room, moving toward the door to go and get my food— to care for me , something shifts again. I watch him leave, his broad shoulders filling the doorway before he disappears. The weight of everything hits me all over again. What am I doing? I should be focused. My oath should come first. But these warlocks, they’re not my enemies anymore.
I hate that I feel this way, but I can’t deny it anymore. I’m starting to care for them. All of them. Even though I shouldn’t. Even though I’m supposed to be plotting their downfall.
Torin leaves, and I hear him speaking softly to someone in the hall before the sound of footsteps fades away. As I wait, my mind drifts back to everything that’s happened. Finn. Kael. My powers. I still don’t fully understand everything I’m capable of, but now I have someone like Finn helping me, thanks to Torin’s insistence.
Torin returns with a tray of food, and I can’t deny the relief in my stomach. I push my wayward thoughts aside once again. I’m starving. Maybe I'll think better with food in my stomach. He sets the food down in front of me, the rich aroma making my mouth water. There’s a plate of roasted meats, vegetables, and freshly baked bread, a small dish of fruits on the side, and a pitcher of cool water.
“Help yourself,” Torin says, his tone a little softer now. He sits across from me, watching me as I take a bite.
“I’m glad you helped get Kael to ask Finn to train me,” I say after a moment, looking up at him. I feel his eyes on me, but I don’t mind it anymore. Not in the same way. “Finn’s good. I feel like... maybe I can get somewhere with...well whatever it is I have.”
Torin leans back casually and folds his arms. "Magic," he says and I look at him with confusion. “Finn thinks you’re a witch,” he adds.
I stop mid-bite, my stomach tightening. “What?” I ask, my voice almost breathless with shock. I glance up at him, needing clarification. “What do you mean, a witch?”
Torin shrugs nonchalantly. “Yeah, he mentioned it after Kael bound himself to you. That maybe the prophesy is true.” He pauses, eyes narrowing slightly. “Does that surprise you, kitten?”
I blink, my heart racing. I try to process it. A witch. I thought... I didn’t even know what I thought I was, but that— that ? “I... I don't know,” I whisper, my hand freezing mid-air as I reach for more food. "My bloodline had witches, but I didn't think it passed to me.”
Torin watches me, his expression unreadable. But there’s something about the way he looks at me now—like he’s weighing every word he’s about to say. “It’s not as big a deal as you’re making it out to be,” he says, the words soft, almost reassuring. “Finn didn’t mean anything by it. It’s just... part of what we do. But it’s also why he had you tested. We need to understand what you’re capable of. If the prophesy is true, it could shift a lot of things in our realm.”
My mind is racing, but I can’t ignore the fluttering in my chest. A witch. Could I really be one? What does that mean for me? For us?
I feel the weight of everything pressing in on me, but Torin’s gaze never wavers. He doesn’t say anything else, just watches me with that ever-present smirk.
I take a deep breath, trying to push my anxiety down. “I don’t know what this means for me,” I murmur, frustration creeping into my voice.
Torin’s expression softens, just barely. He leans forward slightly, his tone lighter now. “Hey, relax, kitten. We’ll figure this out, yeah? You’re not alone in this. I’m here. We all are.”
His words settle over me, and for a moment, I feel like I can breathe again. He’s right. I’m not alone in this. I’m not just a prisoner anymore. I’m starting to be something more. I allow myself not to question his words. To just take comfort in them.
I reach out, my fingers brushing his arm as I slide over beside him on the couch, the tension between us growing thick in the air. I look up at him, heart pounding. He’s looking at me like he wants to say something, but it feels like the room is closing in on us.
“Thank you,” I whisper softly, not just for the training, but for everything he’s done— for me.
Torin’s hand moves to rest on my knee, his fingers brushing against my skin, sending a shiver up my spine. His touch is electric, his warmth seeping through me in a way that makes everything feel alive .
“I don’t need to be thanked, kitten,” he murmurs, his voice hushed, but intense. “But you can show me in other ways.”
I catch my breath, but I don’t pull away.
He leans closer, his lips brushing the side of my ear. “You want me to show you something, don’t you?”
The question hangs in the air between us, thick with the tension that’s been building for days now. And I feel it— that pull , the one I can’t seem to escape.
I let out a breath, my heart racing, my body already aching for him.
"Yes."