Chapter 29
Seraphina
The cold of the hallway should’ve chilled me to my bones, but all I could feel was him—his warmth, his strength, the trembling fury in his breath.
Thavros bent to pick up my cloak and my small travel bag, the one I’d packed in secret like a coward.
Then he looked at me, not with anger, not even with disappointment. Just raw, aching relief.
Before I could speak, he lifted me into his arms as if I weighed nothing. “Next time you try to leave,” he whispered against my temple, voice low and rough, “take me with you.” It broke something open in me. A laugh that cracked into a sob. I clung to him and let him carry me back home.
He pushed open the heavy door to our rooms and stepped inside, the soft firelight flickering across stone and fur. He set my things down with a quiet reverence, like they were fragile offerings instead of a foolish escape plan.
"Here, I was bringing this to you after the feast. It will help you rest," he said, offering me a cup of tea.
Then, without a word, he began to unpack the bag. My brush, my scarf, the tiny bottle of lavender oil Callie had given me—all returned to their places like he was stitching something broken back together.
I sat on the bed, knees drawn up, hands curled around the tea he’d made me. It had gone tepid, but I held it like a lifeline. I watched him move, this giant orc, gentle and methodical. I didn’t know how to say I’m sorry in a way that would touch the places I’d just torn open.
But maybe I didn’t have to say it. Perhaps he already knew.
I watched him move, and for a moment I could pretend everything was normal, that I hadn’t almost walked away from the only thing that’s ever felt real. But the weight of the visitor’s words pressed against my chest like stone, and I couldn’t hold it in any longer.
“Thavros,” I whispered, and he turned immediately, like he’d been waiting for my voice. "What do you know about the visitor we had today?"
"What visitor, little flame? There are many in the mountain today."
"The one who showed up after breakfast. Frema brought him to your war room."
"He is a visiting dignitary from the south," Thavros said.
"No. He's not."
Thavros stopped and looked at me. "Do you know him?"
"In a way... When I saw him, I was scared of him, but then I had a memory, a flashback of sorts, of him doing cruel things to me."
Thavros's head snapped to me. "From before?" he asked in a low, menacing voice as he crossed to the bed.
I nodded and swallowed back more tears. How I still had more tears, I hadn't a clue.
"Then after the feast tonight he found me and told me that... "
I broke off. Not quite brave enough to say what he said to me. What if speaking those words to Thavros would break whatever spell I had him under, and he would not be my mate anymore?
He cupped my face, gazing at me with concern, but there was more than concern in his gaze. There was love. I had to trust that what he had was as real as it felt.
"He said I was bound to the wrong brother, but it was too late. It was already in motion, and I had work to do."
He stood from the bed with a growl and paced. "And that is why you have been so upset today, not because planning the ceremony is taxing."
I nodded weakly.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
I just shrugged, unsure of what else to do while he continued to pace. “I’m sorry. My head was a mess. I didn’t know what to say.”
"It doesn't make sense. That's not how the mating bond works. It can't be manipulated. What we have is real."
"You think so."
He turned, and the look on his face nearly took my breath away. "I know so, with everything I am."
I let out a small sigh of relief. He felt just as strongly as I did.
I swallowed. “Do you think… going through with the handfasting is still wise? After everything?”
He stilled, the question hanging in the quiet. Then he crossed the room with slow, purposeful steps, knelt in front of me, and took my hand like it was something sacred.
“I meant every word I said,” he told me, voice rough with truth. “You’re already mine in every way that matters. The ceremony is just a thread to bind what already exists between us.”
I looked into his eyes, brown and glowing and filled with so much love I could hardly breathe. There was no hesitation in him. No doubt. Just this solid, unshakable belief in us.
And for a moment, I let myself believe it too.
I swallowed hard and forced the words out. “You said… If the time came, you’d lock me away. To protect your people.”
His body tensed. The pause was long, and when he looked at me, the firelight caught the devastation in his eyes. “Yes,” he said, the word cracking in his throat. “But only if I can be locked away with you. I won’t be parted from you. Not again.”
Tears welled up in my eyes—not from fear this time, but from the unbearable weight of being wanted like that, even if I was a ticking time bomb.
He pulled me closer, our foreheads touching, and the room felt like it held only us.
“Whatever comes,” he said, voice low and certain, “we’ll face it together. No more running. No more secrets.”
Our fingers twined together, resting against his chest like a quiet vow. I leaned into his kiss on my temple and let the warmth of him settle into my bones. I let his assuredness wash over me. With him by my side was the only way through any of this.
He turned to leave the room. “Where are you going?” I said instantly, my voice filled with panic.
“I will be right back. I am going to have a guard look for our visitor,” he said with more menace in his voice than she’d heard before.
“You’ll be back?”
“I will return in mere moments.”
He slipped out the door, and I tried to ignore the panic that threatened to overtake me again. I tried to take a breath, now knowing that whatever came, we would face it together.
That night, I curled into his chest, his warmth anchoring me. But even as sleep crept in, the visitor’s words returned like ghosts. You were meant for the other brother. You still have a job to do. I couldn't shake the feeling that this was all a mistake.
But he snored softly behind me, utterly at peace. I turned my face into his chest and let myself believe—just for tonight—that something this good, this tender, this real, can’t be built on lies.
I chose hope.
I chose him.