Chapter 14 Threxian
THREXIAN
The bond wakes me before the nightmare fully reaches her.
Panic does not rise gradually; it slams through the tether like a hammer striking iron, sudden and violent enough that I am upright before my mind fully leaves sleep.
The cottage is dark except for the dying embers in the hearth, yet the fear pouring through the bond is bright and sharp as lightning.
Elowen thrashes beside me. Her breath comes in broken gasps, fingers twisting into the blankets as though she is trying to fight her way out of something unseen.
“No—” she whispers.
The word tears from her throat with a fragile desperation that sends a surge of wrath roaring through my veins.
I reach for her immediately.
“Elowen.”
My hand closes gently around her shoulder, drawing her closer as I pull her against my chest before the panic can spiral further. Her skin is warm against mine, her heartbeat racing wildly beneath my palm.
“Easy,” I murmur, brushing a hand through her hair. “You are safe.I am here for you.”
The bond flares turbulently anyway. Fear still grips her too tightly for reason to reach it. Somewhere beyond the cottage, my energy answers.
I feel the moment it escapes my control. A pulse of heat erupts through the bond and races outward across Briarthorn before I can fully suppress it.
Moments later the distant night cracks open with shouts.
Fire.
I feel it through the hell-born current like a flare of heat in the distance. A shed at the far edge of the village ignites, dry timber catching instantly as flames claw toward the sky.
“Damn it,” I mutter under my breath.
The sound does not wake her. She still trembles against me, caught halfway between dream and waking terror.
I tighten my arms around her, forcing the magic back into submission while guiding her breathing the same way I have done so many times before.
Pain lances through my chest as the infernal current resists the command to retreat. The power wants release. It wants destruction. It wants the simple satisfaction of erasing the source of fear and ending the threat the way my kind was designed to do.
Instead I crush it back down with sheer will. The effort burns like swallowing molten iron.
My wings twitch behind me, the muscles along my back locking with the strain, but I do not loosen my hold on her for even a moment. Elowen trembles against my chest, her breathing uneven as the nightmare slowly releases its grip on her mind.
None of the pain matters. Her safety matters.
I lower my head slightly, resting my cheek against the crown of her hair as my hand continues its slow rhythm along her back.
“Easy,” I murmur again, softer this time. “It is only a dream.”
The bond pulses faintly as the fear begins to loosen. Good. At least she is listening to me.
“In,” I say quietly.
Her breath shudders as she pulls air into her lungs.
“Out.”
Another tremor passes through the bond, weaker this time. The hell heat finally settles into a reluctant stillness beneath my ribs.
Outside the cottage the shouting grows louder as the village wakes fully to the fire now devouring the distant shed. The glow flickers faintly against the window, painting the walls in restless shades of orange and gold.
Elowen shifts slightly in my arms before finally opening her eyes. For a second she stares at me, disoriented. Then recognition settles across her face.
“Threxian?”
“I am here,” I repeat quietly.
Her gaze drifts downward briefly and the faintest flush warms her cheeks. Only then do I realize we are still exactly as we were when sleep claimed us. Entangled.
Bare skin pressed against bare skin beneath the tangled blankets. I arch a brow slightly.
“Well,” I say mildly, “this is an encouraging sign.”
Her confusion deepens.
“What is?”
“You are awake,” I reply calmly, “which means you survived the experience of last night.”
Her eyes widen.
“I—”
She abruptly pulls the blanket higher around herself, clearly remembering exactly what happened. A slow grin threatens to form.
“Do not look so alarmed,” I continue. “You performed admirably.”
“Threxian.”
“Yes?”
She glares at me.
“You are not helping.”
“I disagree,” I say thoughtfully. “Humor is a very effective distraction.”
Despite everything, the corner of her mouth twitches.
“Besides,” I add, glancing meaningfully toward where her legs are still tangled with mine beneath the blankets, “the real question is whether you are capable of walking today.”
Her face turns several shades darker.
“I can walk perfectly fine.”
“Impressive,” I murmur. “Your resilience continues to surprise me.”
She swats lightly at my arm.
“Stop.”
“Very well,” I say easily, though the faint smile remains.
The moment of levity fades quickly as the shouting outside grows louder. Elowen follows my gaze toward the window. Her expression tightens.
“That’s the fire.”
“Yes.”
She sits up slowly, the blanket still wrapped around her shoulders.
“Is it bad?”
“It is… visible.”
She exhales slowly.
“Because of me.”
I reach for her wrist before the thought can spiral further.
“Elowen.”
She meets my gaze.
“You did not wake and decide to burn a building,” I say calmly. “Your mind reacted to fear before control could intervene.”
“That still means people lost something because of me.”
“Yes, princess.”
The honesty surprises her.
Then I add quietly, “But it also means you did not destroy half the village.”
Her brow furrows slightly.
“That is supposed to make me feel better?”
“In relative terms, yes.”
She studies me for a moment before shaking her head softly.
“You have a very strange definition of reassurance.”
“My people are not known for delicate comfort.”
I rise from the bed and cross toward the window again, the distant fire illuminating the village square in chaotic dancing of light. More men are gathering now. Too many.
Lanterns bob through the dark streets as voices rise in angry waves. Elowen steps beside me a moment later. The bond warms faintly as she leans slightly against my arm without thinking.
“You should pack what you need,” I say quietly.
She stiffens immediately.
“No.”
My gaze shifts to her.
“Elowen—”
“I am not leaving.”
“This is no longer a question of pride,” I reply evenly. “It is a question of survival.”
“This is my home,” she counters, her voice tightening. “I am not abandoning it because a handful of frightened men decided to start a mob.”
“A mob with torches can burn more than a shed,” I say.
“And running away will only prove them right.”
The lifeline sparks with stubborn defiance. I exhale slowly, forcing down the instinctive irritation that rises in response.
“You misunderstand,” I tell her calmly. “If we leave, it is not retreat.”
“Oh?” she says, folding her arms. “What would you call it?”
“Strategic relocation before I am forced to reduce half this village to ash.”
She glares at me.
“That is not helpful.”
“It is accurate.”
She turns away briefly, looking toward the distant flames beyond the rooftops. When she speaks again her voice is softer, but no less certain.
“If I run now, they will never stop believing I’m guilty.”
“They already believe it,” I say bluntly.
She flinches slightly but does not look away from the fire.
“Maybe,” she admits. “But if I stay… maybe that changes.”
Stubborn. Infuriatingly brave. And absolutely immovable once she decides something matters.
“Besides, do you think they’ll come here,” she says quietly.
“Absolutley.”
“And you?”
I glance down at her.
“What about me?”
“Will you let them?”
A faint smile returns.
“No.”
She studies my expression.
“You sound very certain.”
“I am.”
“And if they bring half the village?”
I shrug slightly.
“Then half the village will learn a valuable lesson about provoking demons.”
Her eyes narrow.
“That is exactly the sort of answer that worries me.”
“I noticed.”
She turns to face me fully now.
“You promised.”
“And I intend to keep that promise,” I say evenly. “But I also promised to protect you.”
The bond hums faintly between us.
“That includes protecting you from yourself,” she adds.
“That is considerably more difficult.”
She huffs softly.
“You’re insufferable.”
“And yet,” I reply mildly, “you invited me into your bed.”
Her blush returns immediately.
“It was a door…and that is not the same thing.”
“Is it not?”
She folds her arms.
“You are changing the subject.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because,” I say calmly, glancing once more toward the growing chaos in the village square, “the alternative subject involves discussing how many angry villagers I can reasonably incapacitate without violating the promise I made to you.”
Her eyes widen slightly.
“That number should be zero.”
“That seems optimistic.”
She groans softly.
“Threxian.”
“Yes, princess?”
“Try.”
I reach out and brush my fingers lightly along her cheek. The bond warms instantly.
“I am trying,” I say quietly.
Outside the cottage the shouting grows louder as Ravik’s voice rises again above the others. Fear spreads quickly in villages like this. And tonight it is beginning to gather into something far more dangerous.
I tighten my jaw slightly as I listen to the growing noise.
The situation is escalating. And if it crosses the line from accusation into violence…
The restraint I have fought so hard to maintain may not survive the night.