Chapter 26 Forbidden
As a child, I was expected to glimpse visions and flashes of the future during moments of rest. That was how the Sight awakened.
For me, that never happened. Not once. “Mother was convinced I had them; I just hadn’t recognized them.”
But deep down, I always knew I would never be a Seer.
And maybe now... I finally understood why. I had always been strong-walled, unreadable, untouchable. The heirloom I wore every day must have muted the trace even more, leaving me isolated with my doubts.
But if Soehl was right, I wasn’t broken. I wasn’t a late bloomer. I was immune to mental magic.
I quickened my pace across the academy grounds. The sky darkened, deep blues melting into night.
I sprinted up the final staircase toward the sky terrace. It was almost nightfall, and I knew he would be there.
Lorik Draventh would be training on a Saturday on the Sky Terrace. I’d seen his power in motion; I’d felt it. He was one of the strongest Moonveil I’d ever witnessed, and he wielded mental magic with a precision that would shake the Solenhart court.
I pushed open the terrace doors, breath still uneven from sprinting across the academy, a light sheen of sweat cooling at my temples. The night had settled over Elarion, but the terrace was still warm, heat radiating from the tiles, from the bodies moving across them.
And there he was. Shirtless. Again.
Sparring with Ugo, the two of them moving in perfect, brutal rhythm.
As I entered, both turned. Lorik’s silver eyes swept over me, sharp and assessing.
"Sorry to interrupt," I managed, forcing my eyes to meet his instead of drifting to the sweat- dark traces of his core. "I need to speak with you. Alone."
I glanced at Ugo, a silent apology, a plea. He caught it instantly.
“We were finishing anyway,” Ugo said, already reaching for his things. “I’ll leave you two.” He grabbed his shirt and water bottle, nodded, and slipped past me through the doors.
I stepped forward as Lorik slipped from the Auroric suppression veil, entering my space— confident, unruffled, perfectly composed.
“If I didn’t know better,” he added, his voice low. “I’d think you have a thing for me.”
I rolled my eyes hard enough to hurt.
“Stop, Moonveil. I need something from you.”
His mouth curved into a lazy, mocking half-smirk. “You must be desperate to come to me.” I swallowed, pulse hammering. "Use your mind-bending on me. Now."
His eyebrow lifted. His gaze dropped, not to my face, but to my bare and exposed wrist.
Lorik wasn’t stupid. He knew I wore my protection heirloom every day. And he knew it was missing.
“I thought you’d enjoy this,” I said, pushing my hair behind my ear as his sharp eyes tracked the motion, dissecting me. “You could make me do something ridiculous. Embarrass me in front of everyone. Get back at me. At my family. At the throne.”
“And why would I do that?” he asked, voice cool and precise.
He shrugged, almost bored. “If you want to humiliate yourself to escape the throne, you’re perfectly capable of doing it without wasting my abilities.”
I exhaled sharply, frustration burning through me.
"You hate my bloodline. You hate my family. You hate me. Use that hatred, get back at me now, while you can."
His expression did not shift.
But his voice changed to quiet, edged with something unfamiliar.
"You're too stubborn. Too blind," he said, turning away to snatch up his shirt.
Fire burst into my hands in an instant, and a cordon of flame snapped forward, aiming straight for his wrist. He still had his back to me, yet he extinguished my flames inch by inch, smothering them with effortless precision with his Moonveil magic.
His shadow surged across the floor, fast as a whip, wrapping around my hands and pinning them tight against my sides.
He turned then, slowly, and the expression on his face was one I couldn’t place at first.
The emotion on his face was veiled, disappointment, perhaps, or sadness. I couldn't quite tell.
I should have been scared of having my wrist pinned by his shadows, but I wasn’t. “You understand nothing, Thea Solenhart.”
My breath caught.
He had never said my name before. He released the shadows and stepped toward me, silver eyes locked on mine.
“I don’t hate you,” he said quietly. “And I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Liar.” The word cracked out of me.
He didn’t flinch.
“I have never lied to you,” he said. “You’re just… stubborn. A pain in the ass.”
My jaw clenched. “Let’s see, where do I start?
You stalked me in the library alone to see how weak I was.
Then it was just nice trying to apologize, and you just didn’t care because you already saw right through me without giving me a chance.
Then you forced me to fight Rory Rey, who almost killed me, and you were there, clenching your fist, enjoying the whole show as if it were you kicking my ass.
Since I arrived, you’ve taunted me, intimidated me, in the Hall of Mirrors, in the meadow, stalking me in the library to dissect me up close. Then
you save my life, twice now, and I’m just standing here waiting for you to name your royal favor any time now.”
He didn’t react to my breathless, desperate spiral. When he spoke, his voice was steady, impossibly calm.
“I encourage you to fight so you can be better, so you can pass your trials. I clenched my fist because I was furious you wouldn’t tap on the mat and even more furious that Rory went too far.
She is a piece of work.” He took a deep breath.
“I looked for you in the library because I knew you were special the moment you stepped through the doors of Solstice and Dusk. I’ve hated the crown my entire life, but I never hated you.
I knew you were different since the moment I saw you. ”
My heart stumbled.
“Every day in Dragontail, you’ve proven me right,” he continued, his voice steady but edged with something raw.
“Defending commoners like Jan Radke. Speaking your own mind and questioning everything, even your mother, the queen. Being fearless enough to drag yourself beyond the Veil and challenge a wildweaver because even if you don’t want to rule Rionis, you deeply care about this island and the people in it. ”
He looked away while I stood silent, astonished by all he read in my face. Then he met my eyes again.
“And whether you want to accept it or not, I protected you and saved your life there. At the beginning, I was hard on you because you reminded me of the pain of losing my mother. But I never showed you any true loathing.”
His eyes flickered to mine, silver and unyielding.
“I helped you in the Hall of Mirrors to channel your flames. I went to that tavern because I knew you’d be in danger with the royalists after being placed in Dragontail.
I saved your life there again and never asked for anything in return.
You want me to hate you because that’s easier for you than facing anything else.
You built that facade, and you are so stubborn you won’t even see it. ”
I stood frozen, torn between shock and a rising sense of exposure.
It felt like someone had cracked open my ribcage and poured truth straight into my lungs, truth that was heavy, burning, and impossible to ignore, swelling up until I could barely breathe.
For someone who rarely spoke, he was saying everything. He said everything I’d refused to see.
Everything I had twisted into something safer, something simpler.
He had never once said he hated me. He had never tried to kill me.
Had I really been assuming all of that this entire time?
His words unraveled every excuse I had so carefully woven around myself.
Rory had been the one who beat me bloody on the training mats, not him. And I remembered Rory’s voice in the meadow, muttering that both Ugo and Lorik had thought she’d gone too far.
He had been the one who held me steady beneath the mirrored roof, guiding my flames when I thought I would lose control.
He had been the one who stepped between the royalists and me and hadn’t asked for anything in return. I had convinced myself he wanted something from me, because that was easier than believing he simply… cared.
He had saved my life and asked for nothing. Not praise. Not loyalty. Not even acknowledgment.Maybe the facade I built was easier than facing the truth crawling inside me. The forbidden, cursed truth, the aphrodisiac potion had been dragged into the open.
A long silence stretched between us.
My heart hammered, no longer just with fear, but with the weight of what I had been denying, a confusion of dread and longing.
At last, I forced myself to speak.
I asked the question, clawing at my chest.
“Why did you think I was special from the moment I arrived?”
His gaze flickered to my bare wrist, the place my heirloom should have been.
“I think you know why,” Lorik murmured. “Tell me the real reason you want me to bend your mind. Tell me the truth, and I might just try it.”
My voice trembled. "I think I’m immune to mental magic. Please, try to bend my mind. Make me do whatever you want."
His hand lifted slowly, brushing a strand of hair away from my face. “Kiss me,” he said.
The command wasn't loud, it was soft and dangerous.
His fingers pressed lightly against my cheek, the touch required for mind-bending and every muscle in my body locked.
My chest tightened. I couldn't breathe.
Because he wasn’t asking me to kiss him. He was commanding it.
And the worst, the most terrifying part, was that some deep, hidden part of me wanted to obey.
Not because of his magic. Not because of mind-bending. But because my soul leaned toward his as it recognized him. Then reality sliced through the want, cold, merciless.
My cursed, forbidden longing disguised as hate crashed into me.
But the long seconds passed. And I didn't move. Instead, I lunged at him, my fist snapping toward his face. He caught the punch effortlessly, his grip strong and unshaken, as if he’d expected the blow all along.
"How dare you ask me to kiss you, Moonveil?" I said, voice low and tense, even if it hadn’t happened.