Chapter 22 #5
In the distance, the training grounds echo with the rhythmic clang of swords meeting in sparring drills. The occasional barked order from Rian, Jarek, or Garrick cuts clean through the outpost morning.
Lyra and the others have already joined our squadron to train with Garrick. I head toward the field where Valen and I usually train.
As I pass the stables, I see him.
Thane.
He stands beside his black stallion, fastening the buckles of his saddle, preparing to leave. Overhead, Xaroth circles, slow, silent loops through the bright morning sky.
I slow, my steps faltering, my stomach twisting in a way I didn’t expect.
Thane is dressed in his usual riding leathers—but the sleeveless set he wears in summer—the morning sun catching on the flames of his Elemental tattoo curling up his upper arm. His sword rests against his hip, always within reach, always an extension of him.
I didn’t expect to see him here. Or the weight that hit my chest at the sight of him preparing to leave.
Gods, there is still so much space between us. Like a ravine. Wide and impassable.
I tilt my head, arms crossing loosely as I approach. “You’re going somewhere.”
My voice sounds off—like it’s not sure how to reach him anymore.
His hands don’t pause on the straps, but I see it—the subtle shift in his shoulders, the faint tension that gives him away. Like he already knew I’d find him before he left.
“The capital,” he says, still adjusting the saddle. “It’s been too long since I met with the council. There are reports of Shadow Forces pressing north. Rowena has been handling things, but I need to show face.”
A faint frown tugs at my lips. It makes sense. Of course it does. Thane Caelum doesn’t just belong here. He belongs to the realm.
To the war.
But I don’t like the idea of him being gone. Even for a few days. Especially not now. Not when we’re finally talking about the bond.
Why now?
Maybe I thought that feeling the bond would make things clearer—give me answers. Instead, it just made the silence between us louder and I have more questions than before.
I want to ask him not to go. But I don’t. Because what right do I have to ask for anything when I’ve only just stopped pushing him away?
And, if I’m being completely honest, I’m afraid he won’t stay if I ask him. And gods, I don’t know what I’d do with that.
So instead I force a casual shrug.
“And when will you be back?”
His eyes flick to mine. Flat. Emotionless.
“A few days.”
A few days. That shouldn’t mean anything. Thane has traveled to the capital before. To other parts of the realm. He’s left the outpost plenty of times since I’ve arrived here. Sometimes gone for a few hours. Sometimes for a few days.
But today, it does mean something.
He looks calm. Too calm. Like the space between us doesn’t ache for him the way it does for me.
Maybe it doesn’t.
Or maybe . . . he’s better at hiding it. Like everything else.
I nod, shifting my weight. “Are you going alone?”
“Rowena’s already at the Pyre Keep,” he continues, adjusting his bracers. “I’ll take a few of the soldiers on horseback. Garrick too. I could use a ride. Plus Xaroth will fly ahead, scouting. It should be fine.”
I watch the way he moves—efficient. Precise.
Always thinking ahead. He always is. And for the first time, it occurs to me how little time he takes for himself.
How his entire life has been duty, war, strategy.
Even now—after the bond, after I finally stopped running—he still chooses the realm first.
And that really bothers me. But I can’t say it. Not now. Because this is who he is. This is who he’s always been.
Always duty. Always first. Always him, carrying everything.
But what happens when there’s nothing left of him to give?
I shift, toeing at a loose stone with my boot. “Guess I’ll see you when you get back, then.”
Thane tightens the last strap on his saddle—but slower this time. Like he’s stalling. Like he might change his mind.
I wait. Hoping.
He doesn’t.
But then—he steps back, raking his fingers through his hair. And just like that, the composed, unreadable Warlord is back.
“I’ll be back soon,” he says, final, certain.
There’s no hesitation. No invitation to linger.
He says it like a promise. But everything else—his pause, his eyes, the way he rakes a hand through his hair—says otherwise.
And for some reason, that makes my stomach twist even more.
The outpost moves around us—soldiers calling out orders, the clatter of gear, horses shifting restlessly in their stalls. But at this moment, it feels like it’s just us.
Me. Standing here. Watching him leave.
Him. Standing there. Looking at me like he wants to say something else . . . but won’t.
Instead, his hand finds my arm, fingers curling as he pulls me in. A quick kiss—brief but firm, his lips warm against mine, his other hand cupping my jaw.
For a moment, he lingers. Just breathing, his brow resting on mine. I close my eyes hoping he will stay like this . . . with me.
Instead—he eases back, his grip steady but deliberate as he moves me back to where I was standing. Putting the space between us again, as if leaving would be impossible without it.
I lids snap open, disappointment sinking heavily in my gut.
Something shifts. A pulse—faint, steady—at the back of my mind. Not a thought or words. Just . . . presence. As if he’s there—just beyond my reach. As if, if I reach back for that thread, I could feel him.
Is that the bond?
Thane eyes me as he adjusts the sword at his hip, swings himself onto his horse with the ease of a man who has done this a thousand times. I watch the way his hands move, the way his jaw clenches slightly when he glances toward the road. He doesn’t look back at me. Not until he speaks.
“Don’t do anything reckless while I’m gone.”
I snort. “No promises.”
I can’t help myself, even now.
He shakes his head, exhaling sharply. But I swear I see the corner of his mouth twitch. Just for a second.
Then—he’s gone.
And the ache he leaves behind doesn’t settle in my chest.
It spreads.
Fuck.