FIFTEEN
CAUGHT
I have devoted much thought to the how of the Spiritborn.
How she is meant to shape the course of this war.
Often, when confronted with a problem, I turn it upside down in search of a new perspective.
A theory came to me: chaos. Perhaps her youth, her late training, and her inexperience are not weaknesses, but strengths.
The enemy studies patterns, anticipates discipline, predicts reason.
But they cannot prepare for unpredictability.
I will share this with the Warlord. He will not welcome the idea, but I cannot ignore the feeling that this may be a key.
—VALEN’S JOURNAL
AMARA
He turns, grasping my hand in his.
We move through the dancing couples and off the floor, weaving between circular tables set for dinner. Thane nods politely to those we pass, ignoring every attempt to pull him into conversation.
Every movement remains controlled, effortless. He never lets go of my hand.
I keep my head lowered, pulse racing with anticipation, as I lift my dress to keep from tripping.
Thane guides me through a set of open glass doors leading onto a grand balcony. Cool night air brushes against my skin, carrying the scent of jasmine and lantern smoke.
But he doesn’t stop.
He turns right, moving with purpose, drawing me along behind him. We round the corner, and there—hidden in the stone—is a small alcove, tucked safely away from prying eyes.
The moment we step inside, he pulls me against him. His back hits the wall, his hands settling firmly at my waist.
Every coherent thought scatters.
Then, his voice softens.
“How could I not fall for you?” A rough laugh slips from him. “You’re so godsdamn insufferable.”
His lips curve into that one-sided smile—the one that levels me every time.
“You’re beautiful and strong.” His gaze searches mine. “And you’re in my thoughts. My dreams. My heart.”
My eyes prick with trapped tears.
“I wanted to tell you for so long, but I didn’t think there was room for us—not with everything happening.
” His thumb skims my cheek, his expression raw, unguarded.
“For my whole life, defeating the Shadeheart has been the mission. Then you showed up, and suddenly . . . I started wanting more than war.”
His voice drops.
“My entire life, I was taught to keep my secrets close. To trust no one outside of the family. To carry what I must, alone.”
I swallow hard.
Because this isn’t flirting. This isn’t charm.
This is his truth.
“I was told that my purpose was clear. That duty comes before anything—before feelings, before choices.”
His thumb brushes over my knuckles, his grip tightening slightly, as though he’s anchoring himself in me.
“And for a long time, I believed that.” His gaze drifts briefly, distant for a moment. “I saw the way my father looked at my mother—like she was his whole world, like nothing else existed.”
Pain flickers across his face; a shadow of loss.
“And then I saw what was left of him when she was gone.”
The words settle heavily between us.
He exhales sharply.
“I convinced myself that if I let someone in, it would cost them. That by loving me, they would suffer. That something in me would ruin anyone who got too close.”
His jaw clenches, his breath faltering.
“So I made myself believe that I was better off alone.”
Silence stretches between us for a moment.
Then his mouth curves into the faintest smile. “But then you crashed into my life.”
A soft laugh escapes him, rough around the edges, like even now he can barely believe it himself.
I can’t help but smile.
“And you didn’t break. You didn’t suffer because of me. Somehow, instead of destroying you, you became stronger beside me.”
His forehead lowers toward mine, close enough that I can feel the warmth of his breath against my lips.
“You made me see that I was never a curse to bear. That love does not destroy.”
His hand cups my jaw, his thumb tracing lightly over my cheek.
“And gods help me, Amara—”
A breath.
A heartbeat.
“You made me want it anyway.”
His voice never wavers.
“I love you.”
He exhales sharply afterward, his grip tightening as if he’s afraid I might slip away.
As if I ever could.
My throat tightens, my chest aching with something I don’t know how to hold. Because I know. Deep down, I’ve always known.
“Thane.”
His name leaves me like a breath I didn’t realize I was holding, something sacred—something that has always, always belonged to him.
My chest tightens, my pulse a thunderous drum against my ribs. The words rise before I can stop them, desperate. A truth too heavy to carry inside any longer.
“I love you, too.”
It was always a choice.
But the moment I finally let myself see it—truly see it—it felt inevitable.
Like gravity.
Like something written into the stars long before we existed.
I swallow hard, my voice trembling, but the truth inside me does not falter.
“I have for a while now. Maybe since the moment you stepped into my world and made me see myself—truly see myself—for the first time. Maybe since you looked at me and saw not just my power, but me.”
Emotion catches in my throat.
“The girl who thought she had to prove her worth. The girl who always fought, always ran headfirst into the impossible, but never stopped to see what she was really made of. You made me see that I was strong even if my magics never awakened. That I was more than a prophecy. More than fate.”
I search his eyes, burning with something absolute.
“And maybe even before that,” I whisper. “Maybe some part of me has been reaching for you my whole life without even knowing why.”
I exhale shakily, my heart completely exposed.
“It isn’t a decision, Thane. It never was.”
My voice softens.
“It’s as natural as breathing. As certain as the ground beneath my feet.”
The bond pulses softly between us.
Like it has been waiting for this. Like it already knew. Like it was never prophecy. Like it was always our choice.
And I have never been more certain of anything in my life.
Thane exhales softly, his forehead still resting against mine.
“What’s the point of defeating the Shadow Forces,” he murmurs, “if you’re not in my life this way . . . if I can’t hold you like this . . . or kiss you like this?”
Then I move. Or maybe he does. And then the space between us disappears.
The kiss is soft at first, then deeper, more urgent. The moment his tongue brushes against mine, heat surges through me faster than I can contain, months of longing and tension unraveling all at once. My fingers twist into his tunic, pulling him closer.
Closer.
Closer.
“I love you, Thane.” The words break against his mouth. “All of me is yours. I would go to the Shadow Realm and back with you.”
Thane’s arms tighten around me, solid and unyielding.
Anchoring me to him.
And we fall—like stars breaking orbit, by a pull so certain, so perfect.
The bond pulses again. Stronger. Deeper. Sealing something between us, threading itself further into us. I feel it in my chest, in my skin, in the spaces where he touches me.
And gods, so does he.
Thane tightens his grip, as if he is anchoring himself to me, in me. Like letting go would destroy him. And then, he speaks.
His voice is low, rough, edged with something wrecked and reverent all at once. “You are the first thing I have ever truly wanted for myself. Not because of fate. Not because of the bond. Not because the gods willed it.” His eyes burn into mine, unwavering. “Because I chose you.”
His forehead presses into mine.
“And I will always choose you.”
I stop trying to hold myself together.
The bond settles between us, like it has finally completed what it was meant to do.
And gods help me, there is only one way to answer him. I reach for him, dragging him back down to my mouth.
A promise. A confirmation.
A kiss that says everything words cannot. That mirrors his own confession, his own choice. That tells him, without question:
I am yours, too.
Thane answers my kiss with everything he has. His hands tighten around my waist, pulling me impossibly closer.
Something his hands were always meant to carry.
Something he never intends to let go of again.
The kiss lingers afterward, the warmth of him wrapped around me. For a moment, it is only us—the slow rhythm of his breathing, his forehead resting against mine, the way neither of us wants to move.
But eventually, the world creeps back in.
The soft swell of music from the orchestra coming across the grand balcony. The distant murmur of voices at the edges of the ballroom.
And just like that, reality settles around us once more.
“We should go back in,” Thane murmurs softly, pressing a kiss to the tip of my nose. “I’m sure the guests are wondering where the Warlord and Spiritborn disappeared to.”
I smile faintly. “Do we have to?”
Leaning in, I press my lips to his neck. Unhurried. Soft. I trail kisses along his throat, lingering just long enough to feel the way his pulse jumps beneath my mouth.
Thane groans, his eyes falling shut.
“Amara, darling,” he says roughly, “if you keep doing that, I’m going to forget we’re standing outside a ballroom.”
I nip lightly at his ear. “Maybe I want you to.”
Heat snaps tight between us.
I even surprise myself when my hands slide lower, pulling him hard against me. A rough sound escapes him.
Thane growls in my ear. “Here? Now?”
He glides the bridge of his nose along my neck, his breath hot against my skin. A shiver runs through me as his fingers drift lower, teasing, until his hand finds the back of my thigh.
He grips it firmly, lifting my leg over his hip. The crimson fabric slipping higher, pooling where my leg meets my hip, leaving me bare against him.
Thane slides his hand up my exposed leg. His fingers trail over muscle hardened from months of training and sparring, tracing the strength I fought for—the strength he helped me shape.
He stills halfway up my thigh, his eyes widening.
“Amara, darling . . . you have a dagger strapped to your leg.”
I look at him through lowered lashes and smile demurely. “Can’t bring a sword to a ballroom, so I had to improvise.”