Chapter 7
The forge pulsed with life: the scrape of metal on stone, the sharp scent of steel, the heat curling thick in the air. Flames roared, casting Kareon in flickering gold, sweat tracing the hard lines of his bare shoulders as he worked.
A strip of cloth clung to his upper arm, black and green, the colors of the Lycan rebellion. It was not an accessory. It was a declaration.
Eris hesitated at the threshold. It wasn’t just the sight of him—the sheer strength, the precision of every movement.
It was what he was: a warrior carved from fire and defiance.
A leader who didn’t dream of freedom; he bled for it.
She had spent her life locked in a cage of gold, told she was too much, too wild.
Yet here he was, proving wildness was not weakness. It was power.
Taric and Varis had told her he was here, and she had come seeking him with purpose. But now, seeing him bare-chested, working with a focus that felt deeper than battle, she faltered. This was not how she usually saw him.
Kareon lifted his head, sniffing the air. He didn’t turn immediately. “Look who’s back.” He dragged the file down the blade one last time, slow and deliberate. Then, finally, he glanced over his shoulder, a smirk curling at the edges. “Didn’t take long to miss the taste of freedom.”
Eris felt the ghost of a smile tug at her lips, fleeting, there for a breath, then gone. He always had a way of cutting straight to the truth, stripping things bare. Normally, she would have met his sarcasm with something sharp, but the words didn’t come.
She swallowed, searching for her usual quickness. All she managed was a quiet, “Kareon, I need to talk to you.”
His smirk faded, but his gaze sharpened as he set the blade down, fingers tightening slightly before letting go. He studied her, the teasing replaced by something quieter, more measured. Without a word, he motioned for her to follow.
They walked a short distance to a quiet alcove, where the forge’s noise softened. As they stopped, silence stretched between them.
Eris turned toward the horizon, watching the sun dip lower. Its warmth did nothing to ease the cold tightening in her chest. She exhaled slowly. Then, barely above a whisper, she spoke.
“Stephan won’t stand with me.”
Kareon’s shoulders tensed. “What do you mean?” His voice was sharper now.
“I think he might report me,” she forced out, throat tightening, “to the kings.”
Kareon inhaled sharply.
She made herself keep speaking, though every word pressed against an open wound.
“If they find out, they might pull me from the Summit. They might keep me at home. I don’t know. I just—” She swallowed. “If they do, they’ll cut me off. From everything. From—”
From everything I was meant to change.
She could not bring herself to finish the sentence. She could not bear the thought of not being able to bring peace. That everything Seraphina fought for might die with her.
Kareon didn’t speak at first. His expression darkened, his hands curling into fists at his sides. The weight of his silence was almost worse than anger. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and controlled. “You really think they will lock you away?”
She didn’t answer at once. She could feel Kareon watching her, waiting, but the words were too heavy. When she nodded, it was not anger. It was resignation.
“They will say I am uncontrollable. Reckless. Dangerous.” Her voice was quiet, wrapped in something heavier than sorrow, softer than defiance. “They will say it is for my own good. That it is the only way to keep me, and everyone else, safe.”
She was a wild thing in a world of silks and secrets, unpredictable, unfit for the throne’s delicate image. So they hid her, not to punish, but to protect the crown from scandal, and her from a world that would never understand her.
“My whole life, they have tried to shield me.” A faint, brittle laugh escaped her. “Even from myself. Even from things that were never a threat.” She exhaled, arms tightening around herself. “And now? Now they’ll think they were right all along.”
Kareon exhaled through his nose, shaking his head slightly, lips pressing into something that was not quite a sneer and not quite a frown.
He had always known they treated her differently.
But in hearing it from her lips, how they had caged her out of fear, something in him seethed.
They didn’t see what she was. Only what she might ruin.
A girl too wild, too untamed. Too much. Just as they had once seen him.
The vampires had looked at his people and seen only beasts. Had tried to tame them, erase them. And now, they were doing the same to her.
His grip tightened on the hilt of his blade. The weight grounded him, kept the rage from spilling over. It was not just fury. It was helplessness.
“This is how it starts,” he muttered, mostly to himself. His voice was low, edged with something raw. “This is exactly how it started with Seraphina.”
Eris’s stomach twisted. “No. It’s not the same,” she said quickly, almost desperately. “My father…he loves me. He would never—”
Kareon exhaled slowly, but it held no relief.
Only something tight. Restrained. A breath like a laugh, but without humor.
“You think love is enough to stop them?” His voice was quiet, but it burned.
“Love doesn’t stop kings from cutting down what threatens them.
It never has.” He let the words settle. Then, softer, though no less sharp: “And Stephan? Will love stop him?”
Silence stretched. A flicker of hesitation crossed her face.
He saw it. She felt it.
Eris straightened, locking onto his gaze. She forced certainty into her voice. “Stephan would never hurt me.”
Kareon didn’t look away. “Are you certain of that?”
She wanted to be. Needed to be. “I am.”
Kareon’s jaw clenched. The muscles in his arms coiled, his breath heavy and controlled. Seraphina had trusted the wrong people too, and they had torn her heart from her chest. He would not let it happen again.
“Then I need to talk to him,” Kareon said, his fingers twitching at his sides, barely restraining the urge to act.
She snapped her head up. “No!”
His brow furrowed. “Eris—”
“Don’t.” She stepped forward, then stopped, her hands curling into fists. “Please. Just…don’t.”
Kareon looked down at her, eyes narrowing. The desperation in her voice, the way her shoulders tensed, as if she were holding herself back, not reaching for him, but wanting to…
Something was wrong.
Slowly, his hands lifted, not to touch her, only to hover, waiting. His voice dropped. “Tell me why.”
Eris exhaled sharply and pulled back. Her arms crossed over her chest. A shiver ran through her, though it had nothing to do with the cooling air. Then the truth slipped out.
“If you speak to him…” She hesitated. Then, barely above a whisper, “He might challenge you.”
Silence settled between them. Kareon didn’t blink, but his features sharpened.
“And that bothers you?”
She closed her eyes. “The thought of you two fighting,” she said, her voice cracking, “it destroys me.” Because how could she stand on either side without betraying the other? How could she bear watching them tear each other apart—over her?
The words struck him, not only for what they said, but for what they meant. She was not afraid of the fight. She was afraid of what it would reveal.
That she mattered. That he mattered.
Kareon watched her, the tension in her shoulders, the way her throat moved like she was swallowing words she couldn’t speak. Then the truth struck him, undeniable, like a blade sliding between ribs.
Gently, he reached out and brushed his fingers beneath her chin, lifting her face to his. Eris drew a sharp breath at the touch, her pulse pounding beneath her skin. Their eyes locked, and for the first time, neither of them looked away.
His bare chest barely grazed hers as he pulled her closer. She felt the heat of his skin, the steady rhythm of his breath, and she knew. If she did not step back now, she would not.
Her heart pounded.
His gaze searched hers, waiting, daring her to speak what they both knew.
She did not. Neither did he. Because if they did, there would be no return.
The sound of footsteps. A scrape of leather on stone.
Eris startled, stepping back just as Kaelioth’s voice cut the air, followed by a slow clap.
“If this is a private moment, I can step out.” His tone was light with amusement, but his eyes flicked between them. Sharp. Knowing.
Eris turned quickly, her pulse still racing. Kareon did not move. He stood exactly where he was, shoulders squared, breath measured and controlled. But something in his stance had shifted tighter.
Kaelioth arched a brow. “Did I interrupt something?”
Kareon exhaled slowly. It was not quite a laugh, more the release of something restrained.
“Not at all.”
Eris’s heart was still slamming against her ribs.
Kaelioth didn’t need to press. The glint in his eyes said everything. He had seen enough. He knew.
Eris forced a breath, smoothing her hands down her arms. As if she could scrub away the heat still licking at her skin. But the air between them still burned.
Kaelioth’s smirk lingered. His gaze flicked between them, filing away every unsaid thing. Enjoying the tension still crackling in the space Kareon had yet to step away from.
Kareon exhaled slowly, but shifted, just enough to place himself between them. A silent warning. A quiet claim. He wouldn’t let Kaelioth see her like this. Not when she was still exposed. His pulse hammered, but his voice came out low and dangerous.
“What do you want, Kaelioth?”
The shaman stretched slowly, the movement exaggerated and lazy, as if he had only just remembered why he was there. “Ah, right. That.” His gaze flicked to Eris. The smirk lingered, too knowing. “Since she is here, she might as well participate.”
Kareon went rigid. “No.” The word snapped from his lips, instinctive.
Kaelioth lifted a brow, still amused. “You do not even know what I was going to say.”