FORTY-ONE
A PROMISE
The dragons have seemed unusually restless of late. Their riders speak of a shared unease, as though the dragons sense some approaching peril beyond our sight. I pray to the gods that this is not the herald of yet another threat.
—VALEN’S JOURNAL
AMARA
Acouple of hours later, after breakfast, we walk hand in hand through the gardens of the castle.
The crisp air carries the scent of damp earth and fading blooms, and autumn lingers at the edges of everything. Leaves have begun their creeping transformation, turning shades of amber and gold.
The gardens are even larger than I imagined.
Clusters of late-blooming flowers spill over stone-edged beds.
Autumn crocuses, deep violet asters, and fiery dahlias stand bright against the shifting green.
Vines creep along trellises and archways, their leaves tinged at the edges with the first blush of red.
Butterflies still flit between the flowers, moving lazily, as if reluctant to accept the change in seasons.
Stone pathways wind between towering trees and flowering archways. The distant sound of trickling water drifts through the space, small fountains nestled among clusters of ornamental grasses and fragrant herbs.
Benches of weathered stone and dark wood are tucked beneath bowing willows and sprawling oaks, some half-hidden behind hedges, offering secluded places for quiet reflection.
The last of the songbirds fill the air with soft notes, their melodies mingling with the rustle of the trees in the cool breeze.
It feels impossibly peaceful.
A world apart from duty, war, and the weight of what’s coming.
For now, there is only the crunch of leaves beneath our boots, the warmth of Thane’s hand in mine, and the quiet hush of autumn settling into the land.
I glance over at him.
He’s dressed simply today. A dark tunic. Dark pants. His sword strapped to his belt as always. He moves with the same quiet confidence he carries everywhere, but his steps are unhurried. Relaxed.
He catches me looking and lifts a brow.
“What?”
A smile tugs at my lips.
“Nothing.”
His hand tightens around mine.
“Liar,” he says into my mind.
I laugh softly and look away, taking in our surroundings.
I’ve never seen the gardens of the keep before, and I can’t help the sense of awe that settles over me as I take them in.
So much land stretching in every direction, filled with things that exist for no reason other than beauty.
Ornamental trees, sculpted hedges, sprawling beds of flowers, herbs, and climbing vines.
My eyes roam over the gardens, lingering on the fountains, the flowering trellises, the endless sweep of green beyond them. It’s breathtaking. The kind of beauty that makes my chest tighten.
But beneath the wonder, there’s something else.
A pang of guilt.
So much land devoted to this. Not for crops. Not for food. Just beauty. Beyond the walls of this keep, beyond the wealth and safety of the keep, there are people with far less. Families struggling through harsh winters. Villages still rebuilding from the war.
People who would look at these gardens and see wasted space.
At least my family had land. We had soil to turn, fields to tend. It wasn’t much, but it was ours. We worked for what we had and what we ate. Standing here, surrounded by such abundance, I can’t ignore the contrast.
Thane’s voice cuts gently through my thoughts.
“You don’t have your shields up.”
I blink, startled.
“I can hear your thoughts.”
I glance up at him. His smoke-gray eyes are already on me, calm and knowing. He’s not guessing. He knows.
I hadn’t even realized I’d let my guard slip.
Thane has been relentless about it since the morning after the ball, drilling it into me until it became second nature. I’ve gotten better, but somewhere along the way I’ve grown too comfortable. Too used to his presence beside me and the quiet hum of the bond in the background.
I look away, focusing on the path ahead. “It’s nothing.”
“It’s not nothing,” he says, glancing toward me.
Thane doesn’t push for an explanation. Instead, his voice brushes against my mind through the bond.
“I know it seems wasteful.”
I glance at him, feeling a flicker of guilt moving through me. Not because I think I’m wrong, but because I don’t want him to think I’m judging his way of life.
The emotion slips through the bond before I can stop it. Thane holds my gaze before speaking, his acceptance of my feelings plain on his face.
“I understand,” he says quietly. “This is one of the reasons I spend more time at the outposts than here.”
Something inside me eases.
“It’s beautiful, but . . . why?”
He waits, letting me find the words.
I gesture to the sprawling gardens around us, the endless flower beds, the sculpted hedges, the carefully tended trees that bear nothing but shade.
“It’s all decorative. Why not convert this into land that could be used to feed people?”
My throat tightens as I think of home. Of the people in our village who had nothing. Who barely made it through each winter. Who fought every season just to put food on their tables.
“So many people don’t have enough,” I say quietly. “I think about the families in my village who struggled just to survive. And then I see this.”
I shake my head.
“All this space. All this care. For beauty instead of need.”
I don’t realize how much I’ve let spill through the bond until I look up at him again. He’s still watching me, and though his expression gives little away, I can see the understanding in his eyes.
Thane keeps leading me through the garden paths, his hand wrapped around mine. When he speaks, his voice is quiet but certain.
“It’s a show of power. To have this much land and not need it for anything but flowers?” He shakes his head slightly. “That’s the point.”
I frown, glancing around again, taking in the sheer luxury of it. The vast stretches of earth devoted to beauty alone, the intricate fountains, the sculpted hedges carved into elegant, useless shapes. No crops, no livestock, nothing born of necessity.
Because they can. Because having enough land to devote it entirely to beauty is its own kind of statement.
My stomach sours. “So it’s wasteful on purpose.”
Thane nods.
“For the powerful, excess is a weapon. It sends a message.” His gaze drifts over the gardens. “‘We don’t need to scrape by like the rest of you.’”
His expression darkens slightly.
“It reminds everyone who controls the land, the resources, and the realm itself.”
I swallow hard, my thoughts drifting back to my village. To bad harvests. To long winters. To families who never knew whether what they had would be enough.
And here, in the heart of power, there are fields of flowers.
I look back at Thane.
“And you hate it.”
His jaw flexes.
“I grew up in this keep. I’ve walked these paths more times than I can count, but the only place that’s ever felt real to me is the outposts.”
His thumb brushes across the back of my hand.
“Because there, every piece of land has a purpose.”
I understand even though I don’t like it. This isn’t just a garden. It’s a reminder of who has everything and who has nothing.
Thane suddenly chuckles under his breath, the sound catching me off guard. He stops walking and turns toward me, an almost sheepish look settling across his features.
“Well, shit.”
I blink.
He drags a hand through his hair. “I brought you here because I thought, being from the Earth Clan, you’d enjoy all of this.”
His mouth twitches.
“I had this whole grand gesture planned.”
A laugh escapes me.
Thane shakes his head. “And I think I may have completely mucked it up.”
He looks so genuinely exasperated with himself, as though he had every intention of impressing me only to realize halfway through that his plan had completely backfired.
I bite my lip, trying to suppress a smile. “You thought I’d be in awe of the plants?”
He lifts a brow. “That was the general idea.”
My heart squeezes. Because of course he thought that. Of course he brought me here believing it would make me happy. Even if he doesn’t care for the excess, he thought I might. And damn him for that—for always thinking of me, always trying.
I scrunch my face at him, guilt tugging at me. “I’m sorry for ruining it.”
Thane drags a hand through his hair again before letting out a soft, resigned laugh.
“Don’t be,” he replies, shaking his head. “I should’ve known better. You’re not impressed by pointless grandeur.”
The corner of my mouth twitches. “Nope.”
His lips quirk. “Leave it to me to plan a grand romantic gesture that somehow turns into a philosophical debate on wealth and power.”
I can’t help it. I laugh, pressing my forehead briefly against his arm before pulling back to look up at him.
“For what it’s worth, I do appreciate the thought.” I lean into him, tilting my head back, eyes pleading. “Please do the gesture. I’m sorry. I’ll stop talking now.”
His gaze flicks over my face, weighing the sincerity of my apology before he finally shakes his head, the corner of his mouth lifting.
“No, you won’t.”
I open my mouth to protest, but he just arches a brow.
Damn him. He’s right.
Still, I squeeze his hand a little tighter. “But I really do want to see it.”
Thane drags a hand down his face. “Fine. But if you start with another lecture, I’m turning around and walking straight back to the keep.”
I grin. “Deal.”
“Mm-hmm.”
He’s clearly unconvinced, but he tugs me forward anyway, leading me deeper into the gardens.
As we start walking again, Thane sighs, shaking his head. “If you had your shields up like you’re supposed to, I would never have known how much of a colossal fail this was going to be.”
I glance up at him, eyes narrowing. “So now it’s my fault?”
His smirk deepens. “I didn’t say that. But if that’s the conclusion you’ve reached, who am I to argue?”
I nudge him with my elbow. “You’re an ass.”
Thane laughs, the sound rich and genuine. Then he halts, his gaze settling on mine. The humor in his eyes softens into something more sincere.
“No, seriously,” he says, his voice lowering. “I’m glad I know.”