Chapter 7
Chapter
Seven
Zander returned just as we finished calibrating the new saddles, the leather still smelling of fresh polish under the morning sun.
He walked toward us with a tension in his shoulders I could feel before he even spoke—the wind tugging at his dark hair, his jaw set hard enough to crack.
I stepped away from Kaelith’s flank and met him halfway.
“You alright?” I asked, keeping my voice low.
“No,” he said, not bothering to pretend.
I waited.
He exhaled through his nose, like the words pained him. “Theron wants me to marry Inderia.”
My stomach clenched.
“And?” I bit out.
“I told him I’m in negotiations with her father to find her another… prince.”
The tension that had been simmering between us all morning surged like a broken dam.
“That’s not a solution, Zander. That’s a delay,” I snapped. “You’re just buying time. You will be expected to choose another noble someday.”
He took a step closer, heat flashing in his eyes. “I’m trying to navigate this without destroying everything.”
“Oh, I know,” I said bitterly. “You’re really good at navigating. You keep me tucked away like some bloody secret you regret.”
“That’s not fair.”
“Isn’t it?” My voice cracked. “You can’t acknowledge what is between us. Sure, it’s okay to fuck me, but that’s not expected to be permanent. Perhaps you should marry Inderia.”
“You were never supposed to be part of this war,” he ground out, his voice rough.
“I was never given the choice,” I shot back, heart hammering. “None of us were. But I’m here. And I’m bleeding for this realm just like you.”
His hands clenched at his sides. The air between us felt like it might catch fire, the tension turning tight and breathless.
He stepped forward again, too close, eyes locked on mine like he was daring me to move. I felt it. The pull, the weight, the magnetic heat of something that wanted more.
But we didn’t give in.
I turned on my heel before he could close the distance.
“I’m done being the afterthought in your royal plan,” I said, and stormed off before I could look back.
Because if I did, I wasn’t sure I’d leave.
I walked toward the Yarrow Gardens, each step heavy with the weight of words I hadn’t said and emotions I couldn’t afford to show.
I didn’t want to talk to anyone. Not Zander. Not my squad. Not even Kaelith.
Not until I got my breathing under control, until the sting behind my eyes stopped threatening to spill over.
But my timing, as always, was rotten.
Inderia stepped into the path like she’d been waiting for it, for me.
She wore a gown of pale-blue silk that shimmered like sunlight, delicate embroidery curling along the sleeves like frost. Her golden hair was pinned high, a sapphire diadem gleaming in her crown of curls.
She looked every inch the princess she was. Regal. Untouchable.
And her eyes narrowed the moment they landed on me.
“Running from something, commoner?” she asked, voice as smooth as polished stone. “Or just sulking after being reminded of your place?”
I stiffened.
She stepped closer, the sound of her heels crisp against the cobblestones. “You should be grateful, you know. Most women like you end up in the kitchens or the mines. But you? You’ve managed to wrap yourself in dragon fire and seduce a prince. Impressive.”
The words hit like a slap.
Only Tae knew the truth of my bloodline, the fallen house on my mother’s fae side, buried under dust and silence.
And even that truth felt distant, forgotten. Like it belonged to someone else.
I was alone. A girl with half-blood and too many scars.
“You think a title makes you untouchable?” I bit out, stepping forward, my voice shaking with fury. “You can drape yourself in silks and jewels, but underneath all that… you’re still just a spoiled brat who’s never had to bleed for anything in her life.”
Inderia arched a brow, her lips curving into a delighted smirk.
“Oh, darling,” she purred. “Now that’s the temper I expected from gutter blood.”
Her calm only made it worse.
My hands clenched at my sides, teeth grinding.
“Leave,” I said, voice low and lethal.
Inderia lifted her chin, about to retort—
But then the ground seemed to vibrate with a low, building sound.
A growl.
I turned my head just enough to see Kaelith still standing in the Ascension Grounds across the courtyard. Her eyes were fixed on us, slitted and glowing.
Her body was coiled, tail twitching.
The growl deepened, curling through the air like thunder, and the guards, the attendants, even passing nobles moved quickly out of her radius.
Inderia paled.
She stepped back, one delicate hand fluttering up to her throat.
“You can’t hide behind that beast forever,” she whispered, but there was no strength in it now.
“Leave,” I said again, and this time, she did.
Kaelith’s growl eased, but her eyes stayed on me.
And for the first time since I’d walked away from Zander… I didn’t feel quite so alone.
Kaelith was still watching the garden entrance when I approached her—her massive form motionless, save for the slow flick of her tail against the stone. Her scales shimmered like polished amethyst in the sunlight, but there was nothing serene about her.
Her head swung down to meet me as I walked up, her molten-gold eyes narrowed.
I should have flame-broiled her, she growled in my mind, her tone flat and deeply offended. Slowly. Starting with her ridiculous hair.
I let out a soft breath, already reaching for her saddle straps. “Kaelith…”
I would’ve given her time to scream, she added thoughtfully. Turned her silk dress into ash, one frill at a time. Perhaps scorched her name from her family tree while I was at it.
I couldn’t help it—despite everything, I snorted.
“You’ve been rehearsing that in your mind all day, haven’t you?” I asked, unbuckling the second strap and pulling the saddle free. I placed it on a nearby rail.
I find planning her death oddly soothing, Kaelith admitted. Better than watching you fall apart.
The words hit harder than I expected.
“I’m fine,” I said automatically.
You are not, Kaelith replied bluntly. But I am here. And if Zander breaks your heart, I will roast him until he resembles overcooked venison.
I laughed once, short and broken, and turned my face into her neck, just for a second. “Thank you.”
She rumbled softly, then stepped back. With one great beat of her wings, she was airborne, streaking toward the open sky like a shadow cleaving light.
I stood there a moment longer, brushing my hands off on my thighs, and then headed toward the dining hall.
It was nearly empty. Late enough that the usual bustle of squads had long cleared.
I slid into a bench at the far side of the room and grabbed a half-loaf of bread and some dried fruit. Nothing heavy. I wasn’t sure I could keep much down, anyway.
My squad wasn’t there.
Maybe they were out in the training fields or walking off the tension. I didn’t blame them.
I sat in silence, chewing slowly, trying not to feel the burn behind my eyes.
Trying not to feel like I was shattering into pieces no one could see.
“Thought I’d find you here.”
I looked up to see Remy. He held two tin cups and raised one in a silent offer.
I hesitated, then took it.
He sat across from me without asking. “You looked like you needed a drink more than a sparring session.”
I offered a weak smile, blinking fast. “You’re not wrong.”
He didn’t press. Just took a sip and let the quiet stretch between us.
“I tried to stay angry,” I said eventually, my voice hoarse. “But all I feel is tired.”
Remy nodded, his expression soft. “That’s because anger burns out. Heartache just… stays.”
I looked down at the cup in my hand.
“I don’t know what I’m doing anymore,” I whispered. “With Zander. With all of this.”
“You don’t have to know,” he said. “You just have to keep showing up. And if it helps…”
He leaned forward, eyes meeting mine.
“You’re not alone in this. Not even close.”
And for a moment, just a moment, I let myself believe him.
The warmth from the drink hadn’t reached my bones, but the silence between us was… easier now. Not soft, but no longer brittle.
I stared into the tin cup for a long moment before asking, “Did you know?”
Remy looked up from where he was flicking crumbs off the table. “Know what?”
“About Zander’s bride.”
His expression didn’t shift. Not surprised. Not guilty. Just… resigned.
“Yes,” he said quietly.
I swallowed hard. “Do you have one too?”
“No,” he said, leaning back a bit. “I made a deal with the crown so I wouldn’t have to marry. At least not someone I didn’t choose.”
I frowned. “How did you manage that? A deal?”
He nodded. “I had my marriage contract nullified. But I agreed to do some… undercover work.”
Of course.
“May I ask why?” I asked, unsure if I really wanted the answer. “Was your bride awful?”
His mouth twisted into something between fondness and regret. “Not at all. She was quite lovely. She would’ve tried her best to make me happy.”
He paused, tapping his fingers lightly against the table.
“But she didn’t love me,” he said. “She didn’t love men.”
I blinked.
“I see.”
It was strange. I could imagine a hundred women falling for Remy with his quiet competence and dangerous charm. But I hadn’t considered that one circumstance.
It was the first real smile he’d seen from me in days.
He tilted his head slightly. “I wouldn’t want a life built on someone else’s sacrifice.”
I met his gaze. “You deserve one built on your own choices.”
Something passed between us then. Not the old tension, not the ghost of what we used to be. Something quieter. Truer.
It was the first real conversation we’d had since he left me.
He looked down at his hands. “I wanted things to be different.”
“There was a time,” I said softly, “when I did too.”
He nodded, slowly. “But that’s over.”
I didn’t argue.
I just said, “I don’t know what I want anymore.”
Then looked toward the window, toward the distant shape of Kaelith flying along the outer ridge.
“Other than for her to trust me.”