CHAPTER FORTY-TWO #3
“Don’t,” he hissed, the word a razor-sharp blade as I tried to speak. He leaned in, his face inches from mine.
“You overdraw like that again, Ava, and I will chain you to the floor myself. Do you have any idea how close you came to burning out? You're playing with your life for a damn third-year squad!”
He let go of my arms, turning away to pace the small stone area like a caged predator, his jaw set so hard I thought it might shatter. He was terrified, and it was coming out as pure, unadulterated rage.
But as he turned his back, the temporary scaffolding of the adrenaline completely collapsed.
A fresh wave of pain, sharper and colder than anything before, ripped through my gut.
A fresh wave of pain, sharper and hotter than anything before, ripped through my gut.
I doubled over, my forehead nearly hitting the stone floor as I clutched my stomach, a choked, broken sound escaping my throat.
The bond shrieked.
"Asher..." I whispered, my voice barely a thread of sound, vanishing into the roar of the arena outside.
I looked up through a blur of grey, my vision failing. I saw him freeze. I saw him spin around, his anger vanishing instantly, replaced by a look of such raw, haunting terror that it hurt more than the pain.
He was already moving, lunging back toward me, his hand outstretched as he shouted my name.
But I never heard the rest.
The grey swallowed the silver of his eyes. My muscles went slack, and darkness rushed in to meet me. I felt myself falling, and then—nothing.
···
The grey slowly receded, replaced by the sharp scent of antiseptic and medicinal herbs. I blinked, my eyelids feeling like lead.
A nurse in a crisp, white uniform leaned over me, her hands cool as she pressed a damp cloth to my forehead.
"Shh," she whispered, her voice professional but firm. "It was just a flare. You’ll be fine, Princess."
I stiffened, my eyes tracking the crest on her shoulder.
It wasn't the Academy seal.
It was the sigil of the Royal House of Zymarra. A castle nurse. Great. That meant my father was here, watching from the royal box, sending his own staff to ensure his "investment" didn't break before the Aegos Trials were over.
The nurse moved aside, and my breath hitched. Asher was sitting in a chair jammed against the side of the cot.
His leg was bouncing with a frantic, restless energy that shook the floor.
His arms were folded tight over his chest, and he was biting his thumbnail, his jaw so tight I could see the muscles leaping in his neck.
He looked like a male who had spent the last hour contemplating murder.
"Just drink lots of water," the nurse continued, setting a tray of dark, pungent herbs on the bedside table.
“Take these. They should ease the pain until the end of the Trials, but remember, do not draw too much. Take a break.”
I nodded weakly, my throat too dry to speak, and mouthed a thank you. I watched Asher track the nurse with a lethal gaze until the door clicked shut. His leg was still bouncing, a rhythmic thrum against the stone.
"Asher—" I started, but my voice was raw, the word barely catching in the air.
His gaze snapped to mine.
The intensity in his silver eyes was staggering—not just anger, but a jagged, bleeding hole of hurt and betrayal that made my heart seize.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
His voice wasn't a roar; it was a low, broken rasp that carried the weight of every secret I’d kept.
"I... I didn't want you to think less of me," I whispered, my eyes stinging. I hated the weakness in my voice. "I didn't want you looking at me like I was something fragile. I didn't want you treating me differently because of some... some sickness I can't even explain.”
Asher let out a harsh, jagged laugh that held no mirth.
He stood up, the chair screeching against the floor, and leaned over the bed until he was inches from my face.
"Think less of you?" he echoed, his voice trembling with a terrifying mix of fury and devotion. "Ava, I think everything of you. You are the flame and the ruin, and you thought I’d see you as weak? I thought you were dying, Ava. I felt you slipping away through the bond.”
He reached out, his hand hovering near my face before he closed it into a fist, pulling back as if he couldn't trust himself to touch me.
"You let me believe you were just being reckless," he hissed.
"You let me stand there and yell at you for 'overdrawing' when you were actually fighting something inside you, I didn't even know existed.
We are supposed to be a team. We are supposed to be the flame and the shadow, but you left me in the dark. "
The hurt in his eyes was worse than any cramp.
He didn't see a fragile princess; he saw a partner who hadn't trusted him enough to let him carry the weight with her.
"I'm sorry," I choked out, a single tear escaping and tracking through the soot on my cheek. "I just... I wanted to be enough on my own."
"You are more than enough," he whispered, finally placing his hand at the back of my neck, his grip possessive and fierce even through his anger.
"But if this is the war we're fighting, you don't ever fight it alone again. Do you understand me?"
I reached up, my hand trembling as I covered his, my fingers digging into the leather of his bracers.
The bond was a jagged, raw thing between us now—no longer just a tether of power, but a bridge of shared pain and a terrifying, bone-deep honesty.
"I understand," I whispered, the word catching on the sob I was still trying to choke back.
Asher didn't pull away. He leaned down, pressing his forehead against mine, his breath hitching in a way that told me his anger was finally losing the war against his fear. He looked at me then, his silver eyes anchoring mine with the weight of our blood-oath.
"Listen to me, darling," he murmured, his voice dropping into that low, lethal rasp that made the air in the room go still.
"I don't care if it's a third-year squad, a kingdom, or whatever the hell is happening inside you.
I am your shadow. Where you burn, I stay.
If you're fighting a war inside yourself, then that's my war too. That is my vow to you, Ava. To my flame and ruin, until fire and shadow cease to exist.”
He tilted his head, his nose brushing mine, his gaze softening into something so tender it made my chest ache more than the illness ever could.
"Promise me, darling," he breathed, his thumb catching the tear that escaped my eye. "No more secrets. No more fighting this alone. If you feel it creeping in, you tell me. You let me carry some of the weight.”
A small, genuine grin tugged at the corner of my mouth, a flicker of the old Ava sparking back to life despite the exhaustion.
I squeezed his hand, my heart finally finding its steady rhythm against his.
"Deal," I whispered.
His expression broke into a rare, devastatingly beautiful smile—one that didn't reach the drones or the crowds, but was meant only for me. He pressed a lingering, soft kiss to my temple, his scent of woodsmoke and an oncoming storm wrapping around me like a shield.