Chapter 14
Lyanna
Islip back into the Lodge after walking Evie to her cabin, expecting the common room to be empty. Instead, Callum stands by the fireplace, staring into the flames. The warm light plays across his features, softening the hard lines of his face, and something flutters in my chest at the sight of him.
The welcome celebration has wound down. Wyatt’s stew still scents the air, and through the windows, the last pack members make their way back to their cabins under the starlit sky. But Callum hasn’t left. He’s waiting.
For me, I realize. He’s waiting for me.
I move to stand beside him, close enough that I can feel the heat radiating from his body. “Quite the success,” I say, keeping my voice light. “Evie seems to be settling in well.”
“Thanks to you.” He shifts slightly closer, and I’m suddenly very aware of the narrow space between us. “You have a way of making people feel like they belong.”
The compliment warms me more than the fire. “I recognize the feeling of being an outsider. Everyone deserves a chance to find home.”
“Home,” he repeats, as though tasting the word. “Took me a long time to understand what that really means.”
“And now?” The question escapes before I can think better of it.
He considers for a moment, firelight flickering in his dark eyes. “It’s not walls or territory. It’s ... people. Connection.”
His fingers brush against mine as we both reach for the mantle. The contact is brief, barely a whisper of touch, but warmth spreads up my arm and settles somewhere behind my ribs. Neither of us pulls away.
“I worried I’d never find that again after leaving the High Court,” I admit, my voice softer than I intend. “That I’d always be caught between worlds, never fully belonging anywhere.”
“And now?” He echoes my question, moving a step closer.
“Now I’m starting to believe home isn’t where you’re from.” I meet his gaze, feeling the weight of the words. “It’s where you choose to stay.”
“Even when staying is complicated?” His voice has dropped lower, rough at the edges.
“Especially then.” My heart beats faster as the distance between us narrows. “The things worth having rarely come easily.”
His hand rises, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. His fingers linger against my cheek, callused and warm, and my breath catches. The touch is gentle, almost reverent, and I find myself leaning into it.
“Lyanna—“ he begins, his voice barely above a whisper.
We’re standing so close now. I can smell cedar and leather and something wild beneath—wolf. His eyes have darkened, fixed on my mouth, and my pulse skitters. I should step back. I should remember all the reasons this is complicated.
Instead, I sway toward him.
The door bangs open. Harper steps into the room, clipboard in hand, then freezes when she sees us. Her eyes go wide.
“Sorry—I just—paperwork—“ she stammers, already backing out. The door clicks shut behind her.
We spring apart, the spell broken. Heat floods my cheeks, and I press my palms against them as if that can will away the flush. My entire body hums with the echo of almost.
“That was ...” I manage.
“Interrupted,” Callum finishes, a rueful smile tugging at his mouth. He runs a hand through his hair and I notice his breathing isn’t entirely steady either.
A laugh escapes me, easing some of the tension. “Harper has terrible timing.”
“Or perfect timing, depending on how you look at it.” Something flickers in his expression—frustration or relief, I can’t tell which. Maybe both.
“Should we ...?” I gesture vaguely toward where Harper disappeared.
“Probably,” he agrees, but neither of us moves. The moment stretches between us, charged with everything we haven’t said.
“Callum.” I search his face, looking for answers I’m not sure I’m ready for. “What is this?”
He holds my gaze, steady and serious. “I don’t know yet. But I’d like to find out.”
The honesty in his voice makes my chest ache. “Me too,” I whisper.
I’m tucking additional supplies into the medical supply closet when Nyxiana appears in the doorway, her silver-white hair catching the light as she leans against the frame. The usual diplomatic smoothness in her expression is replaced by something more guarded.
“Do you have a minute?” she asks quietly, glancing down the hallway. “Somewhere private?”
I nod, following her instinctively to the back porch. The morning air is crisp, birds calling in the distance as we settle into the wooden chairs overlooking the forest.
“Harper told me what she saw last night,” Nyxiana says without preamble. “Between you and Callum.”
My cheeks warm instantly. “Nothing happened.”
“But something could have.” Her violet eyes meet mine directly.
“And that’s why we need to talk.” She lowers her voice.
“My mother still has contacts in the dragon courts, and she’s been passing along warnings.
The political climate in the fae courts is shifting—they’re cracking down on ‘unsuitable bonds.’ Cross-species relationships without political value are being targeted. ”
I straighten. “Unsuitable bonds?”
“Traditional families are enforcing arranged marriages more aggressively than they have in centuries.” She leans forward, voice dropping. “Your father, especially. Lord Theron has very specific expectations for his daughters.”
“Caelynn,” I murmur, the name like a stone in my throat.
Nyxiana nods. “She’s in active marriage negotiations right now. The standard for your family’s status. It shows exactly what’s expected of both Silverthorne daughters.”
“That’s different. I’m Earth-side now, outside court jurisdiction.” I shake my head, trying to dismiss the cold feeling spreading through my chest. “My father wouldn’t force me into anything.”
“The fae courts see arranged marriages as essential for political stability,” Nyxiana continues, her diplomatic tone unable to soften the blow. “Cross-species bonds—especially with wolf shifters—threaten traditional power structures. Families like yours face particular scrutiny.”
“My father understands my work here is important,” I insist, but my voice sounds hollow even to my own ears.
“Important work can be done from many places,” Nyxiana says gently. “Including as a political bride.”
“You’re overreacting,” I say, but the tremor in my hands betrays me. “Father wouldn’t—“
“Fae politics reach across realms, Lyanna. Court surveillance is everywhere.” Her expression softens with genuine concern. “If something is developing between you and Callum, keeping it private would be wise.”
I stare at the trees beyond the porch, my mind racing through implications. I’ve been so focused on building my life here, on feeling like I finally belong somewhere that values me beyond my title or healing gifts. The thought that it could all be taken away with a formal summons ...
“Thank you for the warning,” I manage, my voice steadier than I feel.
Nyxiana touches my hand briefly before rising. “You don’t have to face this alone.”
As she leaves me on the porch, I wrap my arms around myself, trying to dismiss her concerns even as fear takes root. Father wouldn’t force me into a political marriage.
Would he?
I spend the afternoon going through the motions, checking on Evie’s integration and restocking medical supplies, but Nyxiana’s warning echoes through my mind. My hands tremble slightly as I organize herbs, and I catch myself staring into space more than once.
When I drop a jar of willow bark, the glass shattering across the infirmary floor, I curse under my breath.
“That doesn’t sound like healer vocabulary,” Callum says from the doorway, making me jump.
I turn to find him leaning against the frame, arms crossed, a hint of amusement softening his features. But his eyes track my movements with unsettling precision.
“Just clumsy today,” I say, reaching for the broom.
He beats me to it, grabbing the handle and gently nudging me aside. The amusement is gone now, concern creasing his brow.
“Something’s wrong,” he says, it’s not a question. “You’ve been off this afternoon. Tense.”
As he sweeps up the glass, I busy myself with the remaining herbs, painfully aware of his presence. When he finishes, he doesn’t leave.
Instead, he closes the infirmary door and leans against the counter beside me.
“I’m fine.”
“Bullshit.” The word is quiet but firm. “I’ve been watching you avoid everyone’s eyes since your conversation with Nyxiana.”
My pulse quickens. “You were watching me?”
“It’s my job to notice things.” His eyes never leave mine. “And you’re terrible at hiding when you’re upset.”
I turn away, arranging bottles that don’t need arranging. “It’s nothing important.”
“Try again.” He gently turns me back to face him. “What did she say that’s got you looking over your shoulder all day?”
The concern in his expression breaks something loose inside me. “She warned me about fae court surveillance,” I admit reluctantly. “About my father’s expectations.”
His posture shifts subtly, alert. “What expectations?”
“Political marriages are ... traditional. Especially for daughters of houses like mine.” I focus on the jar in my hands. “My sister is being negotiated into an alliance now.”
Callum’s jaw tightens visibly. “And they expect the same from you.”
“My father understands my work here is important.” The words sound just as hollow now as they did earlier.
“But?” He steps closer, reading the doubt on my face.
“But the courts are tightening control over cross-species relationships.” I finally meet his eyes. “Especially ones without political value.”
Understanding darkens his expression. “Like ours.”
The simple acknowledgment of what’s growing between us sends warmth through my chest despite the circumstances.
“No one is forcing you into some political marriage,” he says, voice dropping low with intensity. “Not while I’m alive.”
The protective fire in his eyes steals my breath. “It’s complicated, Callum. My family has responsibilities—“