Chapter 30
Three days from Sivy. Three days from seeing Heraphia again. Three days from entering a gilded cage, never to be free again.
That was the march of my thoughts as the cart trundled along, forced to slow behind a line of traders making the trek through the dense Es? Forest. My shoulder bumped into Vaeron’s, but I didn’t twist away.
Instead, my mind returned, once again, to our conversation the previous night. The vulnerability he’d shared. The pain he’d acknowledged in me.
How all along, I’d been digging into his deepest wound, and he had no idea.
Manipulating him felt…wrong. Like I’d leaped into a spiral only to land crooked, feet crashing where precision should have lived.
And I didn’t like myself for it now that Vaeron had shared a sliver of his trauma. For there was much I didn’t know, of that I was certain. One didn’t simply accept a scar like his upon a singular event.
Yet he didn’t know all of mine either. We were frozen lakes, and our surfaces had scarcely cracked beneath the weight of the fate thrust upon us.
He held himself behind a wall of ice; I held myself behind a thundercloud.
Was there a way for each of us to clear a path forward?
But the real question was…did I even want to?
Everything I’d done to earn his trust, to influence him into lowering his high walls, was working. Vaeron melted, drip by drip, when I allowed him shards of me. Because there was no doubt in my mind that among his steadfast commitment to duty was also a rising desire.
And I understood that this was all he’d ever known. There’d been no other possibility for him, no chance to explore something different.
He had resigned himself long ago to being nothing more than a weapon.
Cicadas hummed through the trees, signaling the end to another summer day.
I blinked, the sound bringing the world back into focus.
Vaeron tugged on the long reins, slowing the wagon as we approached what appeared to be a bustling treehouse.
A ramp wound up from the ground, circling the massive trunk until it reached a platform high above.
Angels moved about, flying from perch to perch, others opting to use the hanging bridges to traverse the canopy above the city.
I’d never seen anything like it.
“Wait here,” Vaeron instructed, his tone measured and even as he handed me the reins.
I nodded, straightening and rolling out my shoulders.
He disappeared around the ramp, climbing up to whomever could assist us.
I took the opportunity to study the rest of the settlement. Yet even as my eyes tracked the comings and goings of people, my mind still churned over what I wanted to do.
I had to make a choice before he returned.
So did I continue this game of seduction to gain power and influence over Vaeron? To ensure my safety once we reached Sivy? Or did that make me no better than the people I loathed, the people who hurt—and continued to hurt—him?
Could I live with myself if he found out exactly what I was doing?
The chain between us snapped taut.
Come on, Sylaira. Now or never.
When he rounded the final curve, eyes locking with mine, I knew. The pain behind the stoic expression bled through even though he tried to shield it. Perhaps I was the only one who ever saw it, truly, because he was my mate.
We might have been able to dam up either side of our connection, but there was no real hiding the depths of our truth from one another. Especially with my power.
The way he strode with precise, measured steps. The posture, so perfectly erect. Even the way he held his head.
All of it was a mask for the monster—a broken, wounded creature—beneath the male.
And I couldn’t—wouldn’t—carve another scar onto his soul.
He halted in front of me, hand outstretched like he was going to help me down. For a moment, I hesitated, the tempest inside me still not quite settled.
Breath shallow in my throat, I scooted to the edge of the seat and accepted his aid.
When his fingers dug into my waist, sparks burst beneath my skin. Yet his smooth expression did not change as he lowered me gently to the ground. As he continued to steady me, an anchor amid the storm, while I reached for my crutches.
A shiver rolled down my spine as he murmured, “The summer travel season is busy, and unfortunately I could only secure us one room. They’ll bring a cot for me later.”
I nodded, my stomach doing a strange flip at the thought of us behind a single door. He hadn’t slept in the same space as me since our fight.
Instead, he’d locked me in a room by myself. Barricaded the window and door so no one could get in—and I could not get out. He was always behind the next wall, separated by flimsy wood physically and yet an ocean of hurt stretched between us, nearly impassible.
Heat pooled low in my belly as Vaeron placed his hand on my lower back and guided me forward. Our bond purred with delight.
A stablehand jogged around the base of the tree, dipping her head to Vaeron, and collected our horses.
Thankfully, the ramp was easy to climb with my crutches. Though with the humidity of the cloud forest, sweat dotted my brow by the time we reached the top floor.
“Wow,” I breathed, soaking in the view.
From the balcony, sweeping vistas of the flora awaited us. Pops of color dotted the ground, and Angels appeared no larger than cats as they moved about. Smoke from cooking fires curled upward, whispering through the far-reaching limbs covering the canopy. As it was, we were nearly level with it.
Vaeron swung the door inward, and I entered the room. Inside was a large bed suspended by hanging ropes. A lounger waited beneath the window, giving unparalleled views just like the balcony.
My brows raised as I hobbled toward an arched entry, finding a private privy and tub. “How is this even possible?” I asked as I felt my mate approach.
“Magic,” he replied like it was obvious.
Guess it should have been.
“Skilled craftsmen imbue their light into every plank and pipe to reinforce them. The secrets of the master craftsmen haven’t been leaked in centuries.
The guild in Sivy is highly regarded, like many other artistic ventures,” he continued, passing me and running his fingers along the rim of the tub. “Would you like to bathe?”
There was nothing I’d love more, especially with how salt slicked my skin.
“Yes,” I said, failing at keeping the desperation from my tone. With my knee and not wanting Vaeron to touch me, I’d been left with nothing but cloths to clean myself. My hair was a wild tangle, knotted and scarcely contained by the leather holding the twist atop my head.
And honestly, my mate was no better. He could use a bath too, especially with us set to share this room.
Wordlessly, he turned the taps, and the sound of rushing water pulled a sigh from my lips. I hobbled to a stool, setting my crutches to the side, and reached for the wrap around my knee.
I winced as the muscles of my thigh tightened, though it wasn’t nearly as painful as it had been since we departed the apothecary in Stadur. Carefully, I unwound the fabric, which stunk as much as I did.
All of my clothes needed a thorough washing too.
Vaeron cleared his throat, and I straightened. He gestured to the tub. “I think you’ll need help getting in and out of that.”
I studied the stone. The lip on it was thin, definitely not thick enough for me to sit on and twist. While I was flexible and agile from dancing, I didn’t have a wall to steady myself on so I could lift my bad leg.
Fuck me.
But I so badly wanted to be clean.
“I’ll keep my tunic on until I’m in the water,” I said, wracking my brain for a way that wouldn’t leave my mate touching me with the barest amount of fabric between us. But there was none, not really. And besides, Vaeron had seen me in only that much before.
Cheeks heating, I leaned forward again, if only to hide the scorching in my cheeks. He thankfully turned his back, giving me an opportunity to slide the leggings down over my hips.
When my skin was bare, I took a moment to examine my bad knee.
The exercises certainly had helped with the swelling. It was the same size as my other, though the color was still an ugly purple.
Vaeron stepped in front of me, and I glanced up at him again.
Something that looked a lot like yearning undercut his otherwise cool expression. “The bath is ready.”
Indeed, the heady scent of ghostflower filled the air. Bubbles floated atop the water. I accepted his help in rising, then leaned on him for support as I hopped to the tub. I started to lift my good leg, shifting most of my weight into him, when he said, “Let me.”
I paused, tilting my head toward him.
His hands slid around my waist once again. Like he was my partner executing a Vaela? lift, he took me airborne. I cleared the lip, then stuck my legs out straight so he could lower me into the water.
We moved with the ease of partners mid-routine, a dance choreographed by fate, tangled in steps neither of us had chosen, and yet somehow still perfectly in sync.
The thought sent a jolt of fear straight to my heart.
Water—the perfect temperature—enveloped me, soaking my tunic. I planted my hands on the lip so I didn’t completely submerge it.
Vaeron retreated, but only a step. “I can take your clothes for washing. Everything in our packs is already there. I’ll fetch you a robe and fresh wrap for your knee while you bathe.”
I tipped my head back, finding him looking down at me with a deep hunger. I sensed his walls lowering, that same vulnerability he’d offered me the previous evening returning.
So I leaned into it—and not because I wanted to manipulate him any longer. Because I found myself…wanting to.
“Thank you,” I said sincerely, even offering him a small smile. “I’ll throw them into the entry when I take them off.”