CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO #2
Odette snorts beside him, adjusting her hood. “He’s hungover, not delicate. You’ll survive, Cole.”
Cole only glares at her with all the ferocity of a wounded kitten.
My arm tightens around him as I steer us through the crowded stalls. “Maybe this will teach you not to drink so heavily,” I mutter, but the following words are a whisper, “and not to be so loose-mouthed.”
“I have no regrets,” Cole grunts, tugging his hood lower over his eyes like it might shield him from both daylight and consequences. “Everything I said was true.”
“Not a single word of it held any validity,” Kaden cuts in flatly, not even glancing his way.
Sirena lets out a quiet laugh at his side, leaning in to murmur something under her breath to Thane. Whatever it is earns a low chuckle from him.
“I’d love to call you out on your bullshit again, Reinheart. But I genuinely don’t have the strength this morning.” He swallows hard, clearly fighting back a gag.
Kaden scoffs. “Silence would do you some good for once.”
Cole snorts weakly just as Ronan falls into step beside me, his fingers lacing easily with mine. The contact sends a warm shiver up my arm, only to be followed by a sharp, uncomfortable heat flaring in my chest.
Magic ripples across my skin softly, dulling the poison of Kaden’s emotions bleeding through the bond before it can sink its claws in any deeper.
Ronan hums thoughtfully at my side. “I’m almost disappointed I missed last night.” His gaze flicks to Cole, lips twitching. “Sounds like it was… eventful.”
Sirena chuckles behind us. “It was funny as fuck.”
Ronan grins, eyes sliding to Cole. “Well, now I have to know what happened. Come on, spill.”
Cole releases a long and dramatic groan as panic begins to curl tight in my chest. Ronan has already been keeping his distance since I stepped onto the mat with Kaden at the beginning of the week. Hearing Cole’s very vocal opinions about Kaden and I would only widen the current gap between us.
Cole draws in a breath, but before he can speak, Kaden cuts in.
“I don’t think it’s relevant, cadet,” he says coolly, pinning Cole with a glare. “Eat your bun before you say something you’ll regret.”
Kaden’s gaze flicks to mine for a single heartbeat, and a soft pulse of steadying warmth and calm brushes against my senses even through my shields. That tight coil of panic begins to loosen, and my breathing evens out before I realise it has.
It’s… comforting and unsettling in equal measure.
Kaden doesn’t usually care if Ronan’s feelings get bruised. He doesn’t care much for anyone at all, really… aside from Thane and Sirena. And yet his calm bleeds into me deliberately, quiet and grounding, like a hand pressed steady at my back.
Sirena claps her hands loudly, cutting through my thoughts. “Right, well… we still need food and wine for tomorrow night, and maybe something strong enough to knock Cole out by sunset, so he doesn’t trip over his opinions again.”
“Since you’re already suffering.” Thane adds, clapping Cole on the back as he approaches from behind, “You can be on carrying duty with Enzo and me.”
Cole squints at him. “Can Ronan not do it?”
“I’m carrying the food,” Ronan replies easily, “besides, the best way to survive a hangover is to push through it.” He flashes Cole a wink.
Cole exhales slowly through his nose. “Even when I’m dying, I can’t escape chores.”
Sirena loops her arm through his, tugging him out of my hold with a bright chuckle. “Self-inflicted. You get no sympathy, I’m afraid.”
She steers him toward the alcohol merchant with Enzo and Thane, their bickering voices fading into the hum of the market.
A few minutes later, Ronan’s fingers slip from mine as he, Odette, and Brynn veer toward a cluster of food stalls.
I drift toward one nearby, filled with an array of different cheeses, when a small leather stall near the river’s edge catches my eye.
The scent of cured hide, metal polish and something faintly earthy beneath it crowds my senses. It calls me forward like a beacon, the river glinting just beyond the stall, light dancing across its rippling surface, like starlight trapped beneath water.
My feet carry me forward before I even realise I’d decided to move.
Handcrafted bags and reinforced leathers hang neatly from wooden beams. Straps and sheaths are laid out with meticulous care along the stall table. My eyes roam over each item with awe, their beauty and craftsmanship astonishing.
That’s when I see it.
The most beautiful sheath I have ever seen.
Ink-black leather makes up its entirety, with roses engraved…
maybe even pressed into the leather along its length.
Each petal is edged with delicate silver threads of river-silk that catch the sunlight in subtle flashes, as though the flowers themselves are alive.
I lift it carefully, turning it over in my hands to test its weight. My finger tracing over every thread, every groove and every engraving, admiring its beauty like I’m committing it to memory, as if it might vanish if I don’t look close enough.
I draw my dagger from its place at my thigh and angle the blade to test the fit, then my grip slips.
The blade tips, sunlight splintering off its edge as it spins toward the stone.
Shadows begin to surge, dark tendrils coiling around my dagger mid-fall, arresting its descent before it can strike the ground.
They retract just as swiftly, depositing the blade neatly into Kaden’s palm as he steps closer.
He twirls it once between his fingers, then holds it out to me.
Our fingers brush for half a heartbeat as I retrieve my dagger, warm static crawling up my arm from the contact… and I swear the bond tightens a fraction, steady and annoyingly aware.
“Thank you,” I breathe, heat creeping into my cheeks as I turn back to the merchant, clearing my throat. “How much? For the sheath.”
“Eighty-two Lunars and ten rills.” He says, “It was handcrafted many moons ago; you don’t see many of them around here anymore.”
The weight of disappointment settles low in my stomach. I hadn’t come prepared for that kind of purchase. I guess I don’t need it anyone. My current sheath is old and well used, but it still has some life left in it.
“It’s really quite beautiful.” I whisper, “Just… maybe not today.” My heart breaks a little as I place it back on the stall, an apologetic smile tugging at my lips.
“I’ll take it.”
I freeze.
Kaden is already reaching into his cloak when I turn to look up at him, his hand pulling free a heavy pouch. Lunars and rills clink softly as he spills them into his palm and meets the merchant’s gaze.
“Will Eighty-five lunars do?”
The merchant beams and holds his hands out, counting quickly before scribbling out a receipt. “She’s all yours,” he says.
Kaden nods, then lifts the sheath, his attention lingering over every delicately threaded petal, studying it with a care that twists something uncomfortable in my chest. A flicker of jealousy rises first, followed by a heavier ache I don’t quite know how to name.
I don’t understand why he would want it. He doesn’t carry daggers or use them, and he certainly doesn’t need them.
And yet he chose this one.
The very sheath I couldn’t stop touching. The one that felt like it belonged to me before I ever got the chance to own it.
The realisation lands harder than I expect, sending a confusing rush of heat and frustration through me.
He had to have known. Had to have felt my awe through the bond…
or at the very least seen it in the way my fingers lingered.
The fact that he bought it anyway, without any reason to makes my chest tighten.
It leaves me off-balance, and a little angry that he would take something I wanted so easily.
Simmering anger begins to bubble in my veins, but before I can say anything, he drops to his knees.
My breath catches.
He unfastens the worn leather at my thigh with practised movements, and words fail me as he replaces my old sheath with the new one.
His fingers move with delicate and careful motions, brushing my inner thigh with a gentleness that I’d never have imagined Kaden Reinheart to possess. Heat flares through the bond at the contact, sharp enough to slice straight through my shield.
I swallow hard, “Why?”
“Your old one’s worn.” He says evenly, like it’s nothing. “You needed a new one.”
I can taste his lie on my tongue as surely as I can feel the echo of his heartbeat thudding inside my chest.
A moment later, he takes the dagger from my hand and slides it into its new home, tugging the strap snug.
The action is frustratingly attractive.
His fingers linger against my inner thigh a second too long…
long enough for heat to bloom and long enough for the bond to tighten in quiet acknowledgement.
Then, after what feels like a minute drawn out into an hour, he rises and tosses the old sheath back to the merchant, who nods appreciatively, already muttering about repurposing it.
Kaden’s gaze lifts to mine.
My brows draw together, questions pressing just beneath the surface, but he gives me no answers. Instead, his eyes dip to my thigh then trace their way up the length of my body, deliberately unhurried and assessing until they catch on my lips, lingering there for a single, suspended pulse.
His voice brushes against my mind, low and velvet-soft. “It looks good on you, Elysia darling.”
My heart stutters, the compliment cutting deeper than any threat or venomous word he’s ever thrown at me. It leaves me with more questions than I know how to carry and sharpens a longing I never asked for—one that tightens around me like a living noose.
Everything resumes as the market comes back into focus, but no one says a word; they only stare, dumbfounded.
I can feel their attention on us like heat on my skin. Sirena’s barely contained grin and Thane’s knowing look. Odette mutters something to Brynn, smirking as they load cheeses and cured meats into a basket.
Across the way, Cole lowers a crate of wine into a floating cart and groans, “I told you—”
Sirena flicks his ear, silencing him instantly.
Ronan’s gaze shifts from Cole to me, questions written plainly across his face.
Kaden steps back and turns toward Thane without another word, retreating as if he hasn’t just undone me with a single, selfless gesture I never believed him capable of.
Kaden Reinheart just bought me a handmade sheath.
Odette’s teasing voice pulls me from my spiralling thoughts as she drops a basket laden with cheese and cured meat onto the stall beside me.
“So,” she drawls, eyes sliding pointedly to my thigh. “That was… interesting.”
I clear my throat, feigning a calm I absolutely do not feel. “What was?”
She scoffs, bumping my shoulder as we start walking. “Please. Don’t insult us by pretending that didn’t knock you completely sideways. Reinheart bought you a gift… and then knelt on the ground to dress you in it.”
Brynn joins us, arms looped through two baskets brimming with bread and fruit. She hands one to me, her mouth quirking with quiet amusement. “I’ve never seen Kaden buy anything for anyone. Much less kneeling for them.”
I clutch the basket closer to my chest as we head toward the cart where the others are waiting, my pulse still too loud in my ears.
“Thank the gods,” I mutter. “So, I’m not losing my mind. That was strange, right?”
“Very,” Brynn agrees, nodding once.
“Hot though,” Odette adds with a shrug, utterly unapologetic. “A man like Reinheart kneeling on the ground to strap a beautiful sheath to your thigh? Had my pulse racing just witnessing it.”
I groan, rolling my eyes. “Odette, it’s not like that and you know it.”
“Tell that to his lingering hands,” she shoots back. “Or the way neither of you remembered the rest of the market existed.”
Brynn hums thoughtfully. “There was definitely… tension.”
“Confusion,” I insist quickly. “That was confusion, nothing else.”
Before either of them can argue, a scream tears through the market.
It’s raw and shattered.
The kind of scream that claws straight through skin and bone.
Every conversation dies at once, and the market stills as if the kingdom itself is holding its breath. My head snaps toward the sound, my heart dropping hard into my stomach.
Near the river’s edge, a familiar-looking woman stumbles from a narrow stone dwelling, barefoot and wild-eyed, clutching a splintered plank of wood like it’s the only thing keeping her upright. Atop it lies a small body… a child’s body, hastily covered in a thin sheet.
“No. No. No, please wait!” she sobs, voice breaking as warrior mages gently lift the plank into the awaiting cart.
Her scream turns desperate. “Please! Just—just five minutes. Five minutes, please! I beg of you… let me say goodbye to my little boy.”
The warriors hesitate for a heartbeat.
Then one nods.
“Five minutes,” he says quietly.
The woman collapses to her knees as they lower the plank to the ground. Sobs wrack through her chest as she peels back the sheet with trembling fingers.
And the world tilts.
I know him.
I’d seen him four months ago, sitting in the alleyway with his mother as Cole walked me home.
Back then, he had only a slight cough and tremor, with faint red veins pulsing beneath his skin. Now his veins are entirely black. His skin is pale, almost translucent, stretched thin over his fragile bones. His eyes are sunken, bruised shadows carved beneath lids that will never open again.
He is unmistakably dead.
My eyes shoot to Cole, who must have come to the same conclusion as me, because his eyes are just as wide and sorrowful as my own.
A sob lodges in my throat as the woman presses frantic kisses to the boy's forehead and cheeks, whispering apologies and prayers to Neytiri through broken breaths.
I don’t remember deciding to move.
I’m only vaguely aware of securing my cloth mask over my nose and mouth before I’m there, dropping to the ground beside her, wrapping my arms around her shoulders as she folds into me.
Her grief is volcanic.
She collapses into me with a sound that isn’t quite human, sobbing harder with the weight of another body anchoring her, shaking fingers tracing her son’s face as if memorising every dimple and freckle. Hand cupping his cheeks like she can still warm them if she tries hard enough.
The bond snaps taut as Kaden’s presence floods into me. He’s not physically next to me, no body, no voice, no words, just a surge of barely controlled restraint and seething fury, so potent it makes my vision blur.
His anger is cold.
Deadly.
It coils through the bond, though not toward me… instead, it's aimed outward, like a blade at the world that allowed this to happen.
“Breathe.”
He doesn’t verbally speak the word, but it presses against me all the same, oddly grounding.
His control wraps around my spiralling thoughts, steadying me even as his own rage simmers beneath it, tightly leashed.
My magic reacts before I can stop it. Stirring violently beneath my skin and responding to the mother’s anguish like a living thing.
It bleeds out in waves, warming the air around us till my vision warps.
The rune lights inside every building flicker with an unnatural ferocity as anger surges hot and burning in my chest.
This isn’t right.
This boy couldn’t have been infected for more than five months, maybe six. He was only showing early symptoms when I saw him last.
And now he’s dead.
My hands curl into the fabric of the woman’s sleeves as fury seethes under my skin, sharp enough to hurt. The bond tightens again, Kaden’s presence a warning this time.
“Not now, not here.” He echoes through the tether.
Even as I feel his agreement with every violent thought tearing through me.
He doesn’t soothe this anger away.
He shares it.
This little boy is dead because of The Council.
He will never grow old, never have the future he dreamed of, never feel the warmth of his mother’s arms again.
And for what?
Politics? Power? Control?
Behind us, I can feel the others… feel Kaden stepping closer as his shadows stretch long across the stone, subtly shielding us from prying eyes.
No one speaks. No one interrupts.
For five long minutes, the world is reduced to grief, shadow, and a truth none of us can deny any longer.
The plague has mutated, and it’s only a matter of time until we are all dead.