Chapter 20 #2
“Right,” Lowan says, a harsh breath leaving him. “My father swore to me the King’s eyes were green. But these were black. Depthless. I knew then we were in danger. So I played along. If we were locked away, I couldn’t do anything for you.”
His eyes darken at the memory. “But once we got out, I lost my mind. I shifted, ready to fly back with no plan but to reach you. Selene shot arrows to stop me, Zillah shouting that I’d get us all killed—including you.
And she was right. So we planned, with Kyler and Remli.
And the only thing I cared about—the only thing—was getting you out. Even if it killed me.”
His voice falters. He presses the heel of his hand hard against his brow, as if he can’t hold it in anymore.
“And I’m sorry,” he whispers, shaking his head. “I’m sorry it took so long. Gods, Metra—I’m sorry for everything they did to you before I could get there.” Tears burn at the back of my eyes.
“It wasn’t simple. Kyler had to smuggle the charges in pieces, hiding them under watchful eyes. Every step was slow, every move deliberate, and all I could do was wait. Wait while you were there.” His voice breaks raggedly.
He looks at me then, and the grief in his eyes is sharper than any blade.
“Every hour I knew you were trapped in that place… it consumed me. I couldn’t stop imagining—what you were enduring, what they were doing.
It hollowed me out. The only thing that kept me standing was holding onto the plan, as haphazard as it was.
Believing—forcing myself to believe—that if they could only get me in the door, I’d find you. I’d get you out. Or die trying.”
His hands tighten around mine, trembling now.
“That was all I had. Just the belief that I would make it work. That no matter what I had to do, I’d reach you.
Every second they held you, it felt like a Thread unraveling inside me, and I knew what it meant.
I knew I loved you. Gods, I love you, and I almost lost you before I ever told you. ”
I can’t watch him break without moving. I sit up, pulling him into me. His arms fold tight around my shoulders, and I let the tears fall freely. We weep into each other, grief and love tangled, shedding everything we held alone for too long.
When I finally pull back, his face is wet, his eyes shining with the same raw ache I feel in my chest. Something between us has shifted—settled—and I know it won’t ever go back. I don’t want it to.
I cradle his face in both hands, brushing my thumbs across his damp cheeks. My voice shakes, but the truth spills anyway. “Most of the time, I was searching for a way out. Opportunities to fight back. Anything. But there was a moment when I wondered if I would make it out alive.”
His gaze never wavers, steady, waiting.
“In that moment, I thought of everyone I loved. My mother’s face, wherever she may be—in this realm or another.
My friends and the life I left behind. And I thought of you.
” My voice cracks. “I thought of your face. Of the times we had together. And all I felt was regret—that I hadn’t shown you more of what you meant to me.
That I had wasted one of our last moments being angry, because you hadn’t told me about your shifting.
I pushed you away when I should have trusted you.
And the regret of that nearly broke me.”
My hands tremble against his skin, but I don’t look away. “The thought of you anchored me in that place. And losing what we might never have—gods, it hurt like a wound. That’s when I knew. I knew I loved you, too.”
His breath catches, and before I can lose my courage, I lean in.
Our lips meet, soft at first, but the second brush carries something rawer—his fingers fisting in my shirt, his teeth grazing my lower lip before he forces himself to pull back.
His breath shakes against my mouth, the restraint almost painful.
When he finally pulls back, our foreheads rest together. His voice is quiet, rough with feeling. “Let’s rest. I’ll check in with Zillah and Selene, then we’ll try to take these days for what they are. A reprieve. Just us.”
I nod, unable to speak past the lump in my throat. He gives my hand one last squeeze before slipping out the door.
I sink back into the pillows, the rocking of the ship carrying me. For the first time in what feels like forever, I don’t feel hollow. For the first time, the stitching in my soul feels like it’s beginning to hold.
The days blur together. I sleep more than I mean to.
Each time I promise myself I’ll go up, feel the sea wind, see the horizon with my own eyes—but the porthole shows me enough.
Waves rising, sunlight flashing across water, the occasional shadow of a gull drifting by.
And when I lie down, just for a moment, the ship’s gentle rocking lulls me under again.
The cabin becomes my world. The washbasin, the narrow bed, the round window with its slice of sea. Outside these walls, everything feels too big, too bright, too exposed. Here, tucked behind Zillah’s shield, I can breathe.
Lowan comes and goes with the rhythm of the watches.
When it’s his turn above deck, Selene or Zillah guards the halls.
When it’s theirs, he slips back into our cabin—sometimes with food, sometimes to sit at my side.
He coaxes me into eating more than broth.
Bread softened with stew, fruit cut into slices.
He holds me when tears come suddenly and sharply, no questions, just arms that anchor me.
Other times, he tells me stories. Mischief from his boyhood—stolen apples, dares gone wrong, the time he tried to teach Kyler to swim and nearly drowned.
His voice, low and steady, carries me through the hours.
I can almost see him younger, wild-eyed and reckless, and it makes me ache with something like hope.
And sometimes, he kisses me. Soft, unhurried—but beneath it I can feel the fire he cages. His lips linger like he’s holding back a storm, and when he pulls away too soon, there’s a heat in his eyes that says it’s not contentment that stays him. It’s restraint.
The pattern repeats. Sleep. Wake. Eat. Cry. Listen. Kiss. Sleep again. My body resets itself one piece at a time, as though it finally believes it’s safe enough to stop bracing for pain. And for the first time in too long, I let it.
The rhythm of the days carries me until Lowan wakes me with a hand on my back. “Metra,” he murmurs, voice hushed but threaded with something like wonder. “We’re here.”
I blink myself awake and follow his gaze to the porthole.
Through the glass, I see it rising from the sea—a curve of brilliant green against endless blue.
Sunlight blazes off white-sand beaches. Palms and flowering trees crowd the shoreline, and the water near the docks shimmers in shades of turquoise I’ve never imagined.
After the biting cold of the north, the air here looks warm, alive.
My chest aches with something I can’t name. We gather our things. Lowan pulls his cloak around my shoulders once more, tugging the hood low to shadow my hair and eyes. “Keep close,” he murmurs, and I nod.
The ship rocks gently as it’s moored. Above deck, sailors shout and haul lines, the tang of salt and sun filling the air.
As we step toward the gangplank, I catch sight of Selene laughing with one of the crew.
His skin is the same rich shade as hers, his close-cropped hair gleaming white in the light.
They clasp hands, and then she pulls him into a warm embrace.
When they part, I see the glint of coins changing hands.
An inside source? I wonder. Is that how she helped secure our passage?
No one spares us more than a glance as we descend the gangplank.
The bustle of the docks swallows us, voices rising in a language I don’t understand, merchants calling, gulls circling overhead.
We slip into the flow of people until Selene leads us away from the crowd, down a narrow lane lined with pale stone.
When we finally step clear, I stop in my tracks—the people.
Everywhere I look, they carry Selene’s features—dark skin kissed by sun, hair in every shade of white, silver, and pale gray, some cropped close, others braided, others flowing loose to their waists.
Children dart past, laughing, their white curls bouncing like spun moonlight.
And the magic. I feel it the moment I breathe in. It hums in the air itself—soft, healing, threaded with something eternal. It makes my power stir inside me, not in warning, but in resonance, like a song echoing back to me.
Beside me, Selene inhales deeply, her entire frame easing. Her eyes shine as she looks back at us.
“Welcome,” she says, voice reverent, “to Moirae Isle.”