Chapter 7 Lorenth
LORENTH
The ledger blurs in front of me, numbers bleeding into meaningless shapes. I've stared at the same line for the past ten minutes and still can't process what it says.
Forty crates of brimbark. Or was it fourteen?
Fuck.
I drag a hand down my face and lean back in my chair, the wood creaking under my weight. The study feels too small today. Too cramped. The walls pressing in until I can barely breathe around the tightness in my chest.
That goddamn tightness.
It's been there for two weeks now. Two weeks of this constant ache right beneath my sternum, like something vital got ripped out and left a bleeding wound behind. I've tried ignoring it. Tried working through it. Tried drinking enough Amerinth to drown it.
Nothing helps.
Nothing makes it go away.
Because I know exactly what it is.
Senna.
Her name echoes through my head for the thousandth time today, and that thread in my chest pulls taut. Yanks hard enough that I have to press my palm against my ribs just to ground myself.
Where the hell did she go?
I've been out in the city every day since the Masquerade. Walking the market squares, checking the festival grounds, haunting the places we went together that night. Looking for a woman with storm-gray eyes and black curls and a smile that made something in me crack wide open.
Nothing.
It's like she vanished into thin air.
Like she was never there at all.
Except I can still feel her. Still feel the phantom press of her body against mine, the way she trembled when she came apart in my arms, the taste of her on my tongue.
Still feel that click that happened when I was buried inside her—that snap of connection that locked something fundamental in my chest to hers.
The bond.
I know that's what it was. Know it with a certainty that goes bone-deep.
The Nashai were right. Serai was right. Senna is my mate. My gods-damned soulmate, and she ran from me before I could even get her last name.
Before I could tell her I was wrong and that damn Masquerade found me the other half of my soul. Before I could beg her never to leave me.
I shove away from the desk and stand, pacing to the window. The city sprawls below, all spires and cobblestone and afternoon light that does nothing to ease the restlessness clawing through my veins.
I should be working. Should be finishing inventory for the three bakeries I own, reviewing supply orders, managing staff schedules. Should be doing literally anything productive instead of staring out the window like some lovesick fool.
But I can't focus.
Can't think about anything except finding her.
A knock sounds at the door downstairs, sharp and insistent, and I ignore it. Probably another merchant trying to negotiate lower prices on flour shipments. I'm not in the mood.
The knock comes again, louder this time, followed by a familiar voice shouting through the wood.
"Lorenth! I know you're home, you brooding ass! Open the door before Kaelen decides to practice his fire magic on your doorstep!"
Lora.
Of course.
I make my way downstairs, each step feeling heavier than it should, and yank open the door.
My sister stands there with her arms crossed, one dark brow arched in that way that says she's already judging me.
Her wings are tucked tight against her back, the light blue feathers catching the afternoon sun, and her gold-ringed eyes narrow as she takes me in.
"You look like shit."
"Good to see you too."
She sweeps past me without waiting for an invitation, her crimson silks swishing around her legs, and I catch sight of my niece and nephew behind her.
Kova—six years old with her mother's coloring and her father's mischievous grin—waves at me.
Kaelen, eight and already too serious for his own good, nods in greeting.
"Uncle Lorenth!" Kova launches herself at me, and I catch her easily, swinging her up despite the way my chest protests the movement.
"Hey, troublemaker." I ruffle her silver-black hair, and she giggles. "What brings you lot here?"
"Mother said you've been hiding." Kaelen's voice is matter-of-fact as he steps inside. "She wanted to check if you were still alive."
Lora shoots him a look. "What I said was that your uncle hasn't visited in two weeks and I was concerned."
"Same thing."
I set Kova down and she immediately starts exploring, running her hands along the bannister and peering into the sitting room like she's never been here before. Kaelen follows at a more sedate pace, his wings half-unfurled in a way that tells me he's about to ask if he can fly around the house.
"No flying inside," I say before he can open his mouth.
He deflates slightly but doesn't argue.
Lora closes the door behind them and turns to face me fully, her expression softening into something closer to worry than annoyance. "Seriously, though. Are you all right?"
"I'm fine."
"That's zarrynshit."
"Mom said a bad word!" Kova calls from the other room.
"And if you repeat it, I'll tell your father!" Lora shouts back, not taking her eyes off me. Then, quieter, "You're not fine. You've been withdrawn since the Masquerade. Avoiding me. Avoiding everyone."
I turn away from her, heading toward the kitchen because I need something to do with my hands. Need to not be having this conversation. "I've been busy. The bakeries don't run themselves."
"The bakeries have managers for a reason." She follows me, her footsteps light against the wood floors. "And you've never been 'too busy' to visit before. So what's going on?"
"Nothing's going on."
"Lorenth."
The way she says my name—soft and insistent and laced with genuine concern—makes something in my chest twist. I grab a glass from the cabinet, fill it with water I don't want, and down half of it in one go.
The tightness doesn't ease.
Lora leans against the counter beside me, her wings rustling as she settles. For a moment, neither of us speaks. I can hear Kova and Kaelen in the sitting room, their voices raised in some game that involves a lot of dramatic sound effects.
Then Lora says, very quietly, "Did something happen? At the Masquerade?"
My hand tightens around the glass.
"Because you've been different since that night." She's watching me too closely now, reading every micro-expression I try to hide. "Distracted. Like your mind is somewhere else. And I've seen you rubbing your chest endlessly."
Shit.
I set the glass down harder than necessary. "It's nothing."
"It's clearly not nothing." Her voice rises with excitement, and gods help me, I know that tone. "Oh my gods. You met someone, didn't you?"
Senna's face flashes through my mind. Those storm-gray eyes looking up at me in the lantern light. The way she laughed at my cynicism about the festival. The way she kissed me like she was drowning and I was air.
The way she ran from me like I was poison.
I look away, jaw tight, and Lora actually squeals.
"You did! You met someone!" She grabs my arm, shaking it like we're children again and she just won some petty sibling argument. "I knew it. I knew the Masquerade would work for you. What's her name? Is she xaphan? High caste? When do I get to meet her?"
"There's nothing to meet."
"What does that mean?"
I pull free of her grip and move to the other side of the kitchen, putting distance between us. The thread in my chest yanks again, that constant reminder of what I found and lost in the span of one night.
"It means she's gone." The words taste bitter. "She left. I don't know where she is."
Lora's excitement dims into confusion. "Left? Like... left the city?"
"I don't know." I drag a hand through my hair, frustration bleeding into my voice. "I don't know anything about her. I didn't get her last name. Didn't find out where she lives. We had one night and then she ran, and I haven't been able to find her since."
"So you've been looking."
Of course I've been looking. I've done nothing but look.
"Every day." The admission feels like pulling teeth. "Every gods-damned day I've been out there, checking the markets, the squares, anywhere she might be. Nothing."
Lora's quiet for a moment, processing. Then, softer, "What was her name? Her first name?"
"Senna."
"And you're sure—" She stops herself, then starts again. "You felt it, didn't you? The bond."
The tightness in my chest flares, and I press my palm against it without thinking. Without meaning to confirm what she's already guessed.
But Lora sees it anyway.
"Oh, Lorenth." Her voice goes gentle in a way that makes my teeth grind. "You found your mate."
"Maybe."
"Not maybe. You wouldn't be this fucked up over a woman you barely know unless the bond snapped." She moves closer, her wings brushing the wall as she leans against the counter again. "What happened? Why did she run?"
I don't want to talk about this. Don't want to relive the way Senna looked at me when the daybreak bells started ringing—like she was terrified. Like being with me was the worst mistake she could've made.
But Lora's staring at me with those sharp gold-ringed eyes, and I know she won't let this drop.
"We were together," I say finally, the words clipped. "In the gardens. And it was—" Perfect. "—good. Better than good. And then the bells rang and she panicked. Tried to leave. I asked her to wait, to talk to me, but she just kept saying she had to go. That it was a mistake."
"A mistake?"
"Her words."
Lora's quiet again, and I can practically hear her mind working. Turning over the pieces, trying to make them fit.
"She was human," I add, because that detail matters. "Not xaphan."
"That shouldn't matter if the bond is real."
"I know."
"Then why would she run?"
That's the question I've been asking myself for two solid weeks. Why would someone run from their mate? From a connection that's supposed to be sacred, unbreakable?
Unless she didn't feel it.
Unless I imagined the whole thing.
Except I know I didn't. I felt that thread snap into place. Felt her soul reach for mine even if she doesn't have the language to name it.
"I don't know," I say, and my voice comes out rougher than I intend. "But I need to find her."
"Then we'll find her." Lora straightens, determination settling across her features like armor. "You can't just give up because she got scared and ran. If she's your mate—if the bond is real—then you have to find her."
"I've been trying—"
"Try harder." She pokes me in the chest, right over that aching spot. "You're Lorenth Varyon. You don't give up on things that matter. And this matters more than anything, doesn't it?"
The thread pulls taut again, and I can't deny it.
Senna matters.
She matters more than the bakeries, more than my pride, more than the two weeks I've wasted searching blind.
I need to find her.
"You said her name was Senna?" Lora's already moving, her mind clearly spinning with plans. "No last name?"
"No."
"Physical description?"
"Five-four. Brown skin. Black curls. Gray eyes." The words come easy because I've memorized every detail. "She was wearing a mask at the festival. A silver-blue silk dress."
"Was she from the city?"
I hesitate. "I don't think so."
"What makes you say that?"
"The way she looked at everything. Like it was all new to her. She'd never been to the Masquerade before."
Lora nods slowly. "So probably from one of the outer villages. That narrows it down."
"There are dozens of villages within riding distance." More depending how far she traveled.
"Then we start checking them." She's already committed to this, I can tell. Already planning how to track down a woman neither of us knows anything about. "We'll ask around. Show up at markets. You said she's human—someone will know her."
The idea of dragging my sister into this makes my jaw tight. But I also know I'm not going to stop her.
And maybe—maybe she's right.
Maybe I need help.
"Mom?" Kova appears in the doorway, her young face scrunched in confusion. "Why does Uncle Lorenth look so sad?"
Lora glances at me, one brow raised in question, and I force my expression into something less pathetic.
"I'm not sad, troublemaker."
"You look sad."
"Well, I'm not."
She doesn't look convinced, but Kaelen calls her back to whatever game they're playing, and she disappears again.
Lora waits until their voices fade before turning back to me. "We'll find her," she says, quiet and firm. "I promise. We'll find your mate."
The thread in my chest pulls again—desperate, insistent—and I nod.
Because I have to believe that.
Have to believe I'll see Senna again.
Even if I have to tear apart every village between here and the mountains to do it.