Chapter 12
SERIS
The training ended before sunset, a sense of defeat hanging around my shoulders.
Hours of sitting and breathing. Hours of reaching toward my power only to be told, Not yet.
I’d expected something tangible. Lyralei had spoken of reshaping reality, of wielding the Veil with precision and control. Instead, I only took more breaths than I had in the past week.
“Patience,” she’d said when I’d finally voiced my frustration.
Easy words from someone who moved through the world like a breeze passing through the forest. I channeled the Veil like an arrowhead hitting a shield. My power didn’t flow. It erupted, abrasive and immature.
I picked my way back through Vaelthorne’s winding paths, head down and deep in my own thoughts. Maybe Lyralei was wrong. Maybe I was too broken and volatile. The Veil hadn’t responded during the training session, as if it were an adult refusing to trust a child with a kitchen knife.
Lyralei had stopped me before I lost myself in my emotions. Before I’d hurt anyone.
Lost in my never-ending thoughts of doubt, I pushed open the door to our lodging without thinking.
Daemon sat at the low table, bent over a map drawn on leather. He carefully inspected the routes and territories marked in precise ink. His head lifted the instant I entered. His dark eyes found mine across the room.
The defeated sag in my shoulders immediately stiffened as the air around me felt different.
Neither of us spoke. The silence stretched, memories of last night filling the space. My mind replayed everything that had happened, and everything that hadn’t.
Sweat gathered in my palms as the thought that I should say something became unavoidable. Before I could manage it, Daemon broke the silence.
“How was training?”
His voice cut through the tension. I couldn’t tell if he was being deliberately casual or if he truly felt nothing after last night. He spoke as if nothing had changed between us at all.
I exhaled, grateful and oddly disappointed in equal measure. “Interesting.”
“That’s good?” The faintest hint of amusement touched his mouth as he straightened. “Lyralei doesn’t strike me as a forgiving instructor.”
“She’s not.” I moved farther into the room, letting the door swing shut behind me. “But she’s patient. I don’t know if I have it in me to repay that patience with improvement.”
Daemon’s gaze followed me as I crossed to the narrow window. Sunset in Vaelthorne cast a mesmerizing twilight glow. Lanterns had begun to light throughout the settlement. Paired with the sun’s fading rays, everything was bathed in warm ember light.
“Your team,” I said, forcing my mind to something other than my inadequacies. “Are they,”
“Awake and stable.” Barely detectable relief colored his tone.
“Zephyr will need a few more days before he’s fit to travel, but the healers say there won’t be lasting damage.
They’re remarkable. I’d leave Zephyr here a couple more weeks to learn their methods, but we have more pressing matters, and I need him with us. ”
The knot in my chest loosened. I hadn’t realized how much weight I’d been carrying, the fact that these people had sacrificed their bodies and risked their lives to save me.
“I’m glad.”
“They’re grateful too. You’re the reason they’re alive.” Daemon stood, pushing himself up without assistance. He walked to the wall beside the window and leaned against it, crossing his arms. “Kael wanted me to tell you that personally, but he’s under strict orders not to leave the healing ward.”
“No worries. I’ll go visit them myself tomorrow.”
Daemon nodded.
Silence returned, once again rearing its unpleasant head.
Warmth bloomed through my body, still unfamiliar. I turned from the window to face him properly.
“About last night,”
“Don’t.”
The word came firm but not harsh. Daemon took a step forward, closing half the distance between us before stopping.
“You don’t owe me an apology, Seris.”
“I was drunk. I threw myself at you like some,”
“And I didn’t stop you.” He broke off, shaking his head slightly.
I studied his expression, searching for signs of regret, or pity, or worse, obligation. I found none of them. Only steady certainty and something softer I couldn’t quite name.
“As far as I’m concerned,” he said, “you’re welcome to throw yourself at me any time you please.”
A foolish grin tugged at the corner of my lips, but I forced it back. I couldn’t find the words to reply. My face flushed red once again.
Daemon gave in first, a smile spreading across his lips. A smile that made something flutter strangely inside me.
I broke eye contact, suddenly finding the hardwood floor very interesting.
The words settled between us, honest and unadorned. Not rejection. Not quite a promise either.
Just… acknowledgment. Respect.
My throat felt tight. “Thank you.”
Daemon’s expression gentled. “You’re welcome. Just a warning, though, next time, I won’t just be giving.”
Heat crept up my neck, and I felt myself flush again.
Daemon held my gaze, waiting. I nearly answered him.
Nearly said something reckless. I had thrown myself at him the night before, but it had been clear he’d wanted me just as much.
The usual chill in his eyes, sharp and calculating, had been replaced with something contained and dangerous, a consistent, slow-burning hunger he was keeping on a leash.
His hands shifted subtly, as if restraining instinct.
And I knew I didn’t have the discipline to deny him if he decided to stop holding back.
The memory of him against me last night still lingered in my body like a brand. I forced the thought away.
“I wonder if there’s anything to drink,” I said lightly. “I’m suddenly very thirsty.”
Without a word, Daemon rose and disappeared into the kitchen. A moment later, he returned with water.
The awkwardness didn’t vanish, but it softened. The edge dulled. What remained felt less like embarrassment and more like anticipation.
Daemon sat, setting two glasses on the table before gesturing lazily toward the couch. “Come on. Sitting’s more comfortable than pretending you’re fascinated by the floor.”
I shot him a playful glare despite myself.
Instead of taking the chair across from him, I settled beside him on the couch. Close. Close enough that our shoulders would brush if either of us shifted.
He leaned back, stretching one leg onto the table, then subtly angled himself toward me. His arm draped along the back of the couch, fingers hanging loosely just behind my neck.
Heat pooled low in my stomach.
I stayed exactly where I was.
“Tell me about the training,” he said, his gaze dipping briefly to my mouth before returning to my eyes. “What did Lyralei teach you?”
So I told him.
About the Veil being fabric rather than an element. About the Void, and the thing that ruled it. About the Hollow Throne and the curse devouring his bloodline one generation at a time.
As I spoke, the last of the teasing tension faded. His expression grew thoughtful. Somber.
“Zephyr suspected something beneath the throne,” he said when I finished.
“Not long after I joined them, the King sent us to clean up after one of his massacres. A Fae village.” His jaw tightened slightly.
“We found a hidden cellar. Inside was a painting. The background only depicted a set of eyes, vast and watching. Everything else was slaughter.”
His fingers traced idle patterns along the edge of the cushion.
“I thought it symbolized the burden of the crown. The rot that comes with absolute power.”
“It does,” I said quietly. “But it’s more than that. It’s alive. And it’s waiting.”
He didn’t look surprised.
“Killing my father won’t end it,” I continued. “The next Thorne will have to bind their soul to the throne and hold it back. And it will corrupt them. Just like it did him. And his father before him.”
Silence stretched between us.
“Our mission isn’t to overthrow the King anymore,” I said, drawing my knees up slightly. “It’s to destroy the Devourer. Or send it back to the Void. Lyralei thinks I might be able to.”
“That’s why she’s training you.”
“That’s why she’s trying.” Bitterness slipped out before I could stop it. “Today was breathing. Feeling the Veil without touching it. I couldn’t even manage that. I can’t access it unless I’m… fractured.”
“At least you can sometimes.”
I huffed a humorless laugh. “Barely.”
“Everything starts small.” He shifted, turning toward me more fully. “Consistency. Effort. That’s what builds skill. I wasn’t a natural assassin either.”
I looked at him skeptically.
“You survived torture meant to break you,” he continued quietly. “A ritual designed to burn you out. An explosion of power that should have killed you, and everyone near you.” His voice lowered. “You’re far stronger than you give yourself credit for, Seris.”
The words struck deeper than I expected.
“I’m afraid,” I admitted, blinking away the sudden heat in my eyes. “Of what I might become. Of losing control. I’m not used to having power. Or choice.”
“You’re not alone anymore.”
The certainty in his tone steadied something inside me.
“We’ll make sure you’re ready,” he continued. “And if you lose control, we’ll help you find your way back.”
I turned fully toward him then, and nearly forgot how to breathe.
“You think I’d let you face this alone?” His expression hardened with resolve. “The Devourer wants to use you. The King already tried. But you’re with us now. Anyone who tries again will have to get through Kane first.”
I laughed softly, imagining Kane’s massive frame and gentle smile.
“And if they somehow get past his axe, Zephyr’s arrows, and Kael’s blades…” His gaze darkened slightly. “My shadows won’t give them a second chance.”
You’re safe with us.
The words settled into me like something sacred.
All the fear I’d been carrying since my mother’s death didn’t vanish, but it loosened. Burned down to embers.
And from it, something new rose.
Trust.
Not the brittle alliance forged in survival. Not camaraderie born of necessity.
Something steadier. Warmer.
I felt safe with him.
The realization should have terrified me. The last time I trusted someone, I’d paid dearly for it.
But instead of panic, there was only warmth, solid and grounding. It spread through my chest.
“Daemon…”
A sharp knock cut me off.
We both turned as the door swung open, revealing a young Fae woman practically glowing with excitement.
“Pardon the intrusion,” she said brightly, not sounding apologetic in the slightest. “Lyralei sent me. It’s time for dinner.”
Dinner.
I couldn’t remember the last time my life had followed something as ordinary as a shared meal. The structure of it felt foreign. Comforting.
Daemon stood. The Fae turned toward the hall.
He paused beside me, leaning just slightly.
“Don’t get drunk this time.”
I narrowed my eyes at him.
He smirked. “Or do. I didn’t exactly mind.”
I rolled my eyes, but I was smiling as I followed him out, half a step behind.