Chapter 35 Thane
Thane
Bree walks ahead of the group as we file back into the sanctuary, wrapped in silence that feels more like armor than quiet. Her bare feet make no sound on the stone floor, but I can feel the tension radiating off her in waves.
She doesn't speak. But I can feel her pulse from here. Fast. Controlled. Pretending to be fine.
She touched me in front of them all. And now they think she's made a choice.
Behind her, the others process what just happened in their own ways.
"That one with the gold cuffs?" Jace says, grin sharp and cocky. "Definitely wanted to climb me like a tree."
"Here we go," Wes mutters, but there's no real annoyance in it.
"I mean, who wouldn't?" Jace continues, spreading his arms wide. "It's the Ether effect. We're glowing, boys."
"They're not drawn to you," Theo says quietly. "They're drawn to her."
The correction lands like a stone in still water. Jace's grin falters slightly, but he doesn't argue.
Gray doesn't speak at all. He's tracking the perimeter through the windows, watching for movement. Watching for the wrong one Rhett noticed.
Bree doesn't react. Doesn't turn. Doesn't flinch.
But her heart stutters. Just once.
I hear it. A slight hitch in the rhythm of her pulse—so fast, so careful—and for anyone else, it would seem unchanged. But not to me.
She heard them. All of it. And she's locking it down so hard the tension tightens the air.
They think she's walking ahead because she's strong.
But I know the truth. She's walking ahead so they won't see her break.
Pain flares beneath my ribs. Not from the knowledge of what's happening to Bree right now.
I'm being summoned.
But this isn't the usual Council summons—sharp and demanding. This slides under my skin like silk laced with venom. Quieter. Curated.
Personal.
Nyx.
I stumble slightly, catch myself against the wall. The others notice—I see Stellan's head turn, Rhett's attention sharpen—but I wave them off.
"Council business," I manage. "I'll be back."
Before anyone can respond, the magic takes me.
I don't appear in the formal Council chamber.
Fuck.
This is Nyx's private domain—all velvet shadows and glowing orbs of light, reflective black floors that mirror everything twice. Opulent in a way that makes my skin crawl. She lounges on a throne that looks more like a bed, draped in silk that shifts color with her mood.
She's watching me with those predator eyes as she stands, making her way toward me, and I know immediately that this isn't going to be a simple interrogation.
"Thane," she purrs, rising with liquid grace. "You look... rattled."
"I look exactly as I always do."
She circles me, slow and deliberate. "Do you? Because the footage I've been seeing suggests otherwise."
My blood goes cold. "Footage?"
"Oh yes. It's everywhere now. EtherTube, magical news feeds, private Council surveillance." Her smile is all teeth. "The moment she touched you. The way you didn't flinch. The way you looked at her like she was the only thing in the world that mattered."
She stops directly in front of me, close enough that I can smell the magic rolling off her skin. Dangerous. Intoxicating.
"She touched you first," Nyx continues, voice dropping to something almost intimate. "And you didn't flinch. Didn't pull away. Didn't maintain the distance we all know you're so good at."
"It was strategic."
"Was it?" She reaches out, trails one finger along my jaw. "Because it looked like surrender to me."
I don't move. Don't react. "Everything I do serves the Council's interests."
"Of course it does." But her tone suggests she doesn't believe me for a second. "Tell me, Thane—when you bled for her, when she chose to use the Ether on you instead of letting you suffer, what did you feel?"
"Nothing."
"Liar." The word is soft, almost affectionate. "You felt chosen. You felt wanted. You felt like maybe, for the first time in centuries, someone saw you as more than just a useful monster."
Her hand moves to my chest, palm flat over where my heart should be racing. I keep it steady through will alone.
"Are you hers now, Thane?" she asks. "Or are you still mine to play with?"
The question hangs between us, loaded with implications I'm not ready to face. Because the answer should be simple. Should be automatic.
But it's not.
"I serve the Council," I say instead. "I serve the mission. Let them see her. Let them fear her. I'll keep her public. Manageable. The more visible she is, the easier it'll be to control her."
Nyx studies my face for a long moment, and I can see her weighing my words against what she knows. What she's observed.
Finally, she steps back. "Very well. But Thane?" Her smile turns sharp. "Try not to look so eager the next time you bleed for her. It's becoming a bit obvious."
Before I can respond, the magic yanks me sideways again.
The formal Council chamber materializes around me, and I'm not surprised to find the others already there. Valdris paces near her throne, flames licking at her heels. Marcus sits rigid in his chair, expression cold as winter. Eris leans forward, silver eyes blank with prophecy.
And Nyx, already seated, watches me with that knowing smile.
"You were touched," Valdris says without preamble. "The world saw it."
"Are you compromised?" Marcus adds, voice sharp with suspicion.
I take my seat—last in the circle, slightly back, lower than the others—and meet their stares with practiced calm.
"No," I say evenly. "I'm focused."
I pause knowing.
"And I have a proposal."
That gets their attention. Valdris’s flames flicker higher. "Explain."
"We can’t control what people felt when they saw her. Or what they think they saw when she reached for me. The narrative is already moving—and trying to crush it will only make it stronger."
I pause. Let that settle.
"But if we let her stay visible, if we make her familiar—marketable, even—then she becomes a symbol. And symbols can be managed. Stories can be rewritten."
Nyx leans forward, interested now.
"I’ll feed the right leaks. Whispers of instability. Of hunger. Of a girl in over her head. If the public starts to fear her, we don’t have to. They’ll do the work for us."
I look directly at Marcus. "Visibility is vulnerability. And the more she shines, the easier it’ll be to gut her—if we decide we need to."
"She's untrained. Emotional. The more visible she becomes, the more she'll rely on public approval. The more she needs to be seen as benevolent." I pause again, letting them follow the logic. "It makes her controllable. Predictable. She won't risk anything that might turn them against her."
Marcus leans forward, interested despite himself. "And you'll monitor this... how?"
"I'll stay close. Report everything. Guide her choices when possible." The lies flow easier now. "Let her think she's choosing her own path while we direct where it leads."
"And if she becomes too powerful?" Valdris asks.
"Then we know exactly where to find her. And everyone will be watching when we act."
They exchange looks—the kind of silent communication that means they're weighing the proposal.
"It has merit," Marcus admits grudgingly.
"The visibility aspect is sound," Valdris agrees. "Better to know where she is than let her disappear into hiding."
Eris speaks, her voice carrying that otherworldly quality. "Your thread was faint before. It's not anymore. It burns silver now. Bright enough to see from the Veil itself."
Something cold settles in my stomach, but I keep my expression neutral. "Then you know exactly where my loyalties lie."
"Do we?" Marcus challenges. "Because from where I sit, it looks like you've developed an attachment."
"I've developed an investment," I correct. "She's powerful. She's going to reshape everything. I intend to be on the winning side when she does."
The lie tastes familiar by now. Comfortable.
"Very well," Nyx says finally, speaking for the group. "We approve your strategy. Keep her visible. Keep her manageable. But Thane?" Her eyes lock with mine. "Don't make the mistake of thinking we can't see the difference between duty and desire."
The dismissal is clear. The magic begins to pull at me again, preparing to send me back.
"One more thing," Eris calls out as I start to fade. "The next time she touches you? She'll leave more than just a handprint. She'll leave a piece of herself. And you'll take it willingly."
I reappear in the sanctuary hallway, legs unsteady for just a moment before I catch myself. The familiar weight of the building settles around me, grounding me in something that feels more real than Council chambers and power games.
Stellan is waiting, leaning against the wall with that knowing expression of his.
"That bad?" he asks.
"They believe what they need to."
"Which is?"
"That I'm the leash."
His mouth curves slightly. "And what are you really?"
I pause, the words sticking in my throat. Because for the first time in centuries, I know the answer.
"Already tethered," I say finally.
Stellan's smile widens. "Thought so."
He pushes off from the wall, starts walking toward the main hall where I can hear voices—the others processing what happened outside, probably planning next moves.
"Coming?" he asks over his shoulder.
I take a breath, square my shoulders, and follow him toward whatever comes next.
But Eris's words echo in my mind with every step: The next time she touches you, she'll leave a piece of herself. And you'll take it willingly.
The worst part?
I already know she's right.