Chapter 56 Between
Chapter fifty-six
Between
-Alarik-
Calenthe was quiet. Just the hush of stillness after a storm.
And there was Maris.
Standing between them.
Kael to her left silver-eyed and shadow-slick, the predator wrapped in velvet. Alarik to her right his pulse a war drum, his voice trapped in his throat.
She looked like a goddess and a ghost all at once.
Crowned.
Power curling around her with starlight.
The city of Nerium stood silent behind her, waiting.
Watching.
And Kael… Kael stepped forward first.
“I love you,” he said, his voice raw. No army behind him. Just pain.
“I never asked for that,” Maris whispered.
“You didn’t have to.”
Then she turned and faced Alarik.
His heart pounded. His mouth opened.
He wanted to say it all —stay with me, I’ll kneel a thousand more times if you just breathe for me —
But he couldn’t.
Not a single word.
She lifted her hand between them.
Not toward him.
But toward Kael.
Her fingertips brushed the Nightbound king’s jaw.
And Alarik voiceless could only watch.
The gods didn’t need to curse him.
He was already damned.
Her hand slid into Kael’s.
And the world shattered like stained glass under flame.
Alarik sat up in bed dripping, bed soaked beneath him.
Sweat clung to his skin. His heart pounded a vicious rhythm in his chest trying to tear itself free. A salt-wind howled past the cabin window, but the cold did nothing to numb the ache burning in his memory.
“Maris,” he whispered, voice hoarse with sleep and ruin.
She was still here.
Still below deck. Still his to fight for.
But the dream lingered like a prophecy.
Like a warning that felt too damn close to the truth.
-Maris-
She couldn’t sleep.
The ship rocked gently beneath her, its rhythm slow and hypnotic, but her thoughts moved with the ferocity of a tide pulling her under.
Maris lay curled on her side in the narrow bed, sheets twisted around her legs, one arm thrown across her face as if she could block out the weight of the choices pressing against her lungs.
Kael was coming.
That should’ve clarified things. Should’ve given her the jolt of certainty she’d been craving. But all it did was crack her open wider.
Because she didn’t know what she would say.
Didn’t know what she could say.
The bond, gods, the bond was still severed. No flicker of him in her chest. No thread of warmth at the edge of her senses. Just silence. And that silence wasn’t numb anymore.
It was screamed at him.
She had reached for him in her mind a dozen times since the Hollows and found nothing but her own heartbeat echoing back. For years, she’d thought herself broken. Until Kael had made her feel seen in a way no one ever had. And now?
He would arrive in Nerium by the next day. And she had no idea what to tell him.
Because it wasn’t just about the broken bond.
It was about Alarik.
Alarik, who looked at her like she was not just queen or weapon but everything. Who had knelt before her not out of strategy, but respect. Who had touched her like a prayer. Who had waited for her, even in dreams.
She tossed, groaning softly into the pillow. Her chest burned. Her stomach churned. She felt like she was splitting in two.
Kael had her history. Her loyalty.
Alarik had her present. Her honesty. And maybe, her future.
The thought made her want to weep.
She had never wanted this choice. Never be pulled apart.
But the gods had written her into this war long before she could write herself out of it.
Her sigil burned faintly on her hand. The thought of the decision ahead charging her magic.
She brought her hand to her chest, fingers splayed over her heart, willing it to give her an answer. A sign. Anything.
Only the sound of the sea beyond the hull greeted her.
Maris squeezed her eyes shut and whispered to the darkness, “How am I supposed to tear one half of myself away to keep the other whole?”
The stars had long since taken their seat at thrones overhead, casting a cold silver sheen across the sea.
The Argo cut through the water with a quiet grace now, no sails flapping, no laughter on deck.
Just the ever-growing silhouette of Nerium, its lights faint but unmistakable on the horizon.
They appeared as fireflies pinned to a cliff’s edge.
Maris hadn’t moved from the quarter deck in hours.
She stood suffering under the weight of her thoughts.
The air was salt-thick and hushed.
She should’ve stayed in her cabin and kept the promise to herself to not go looking. But she’d made too many promises lately, and most of them had already been broken.
Her feet moved before her mind caught up.
The quiet walk to the bow of the ship felt like a trance, every step softer than it had a right to be. When she rounded the mast and saw him leaning against the railing, violet stare fixed on the approaching shores, her breath stuttered.
She came up beside him, arms crossing against the r taking in the advancing landscape.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
The silence wasn’t tense. It was deep. Like standing at the edge of a forked path.
Nerium’s cliffs glowed faint in the distance, the curve of its bay haloed in firelight. Her stomach churned.
She felt him watching her now, but she kept her gaze forward.
“I shouldn’t have disrupted your solitude, I can go." She offered.
He didn’t laugh. Didn’t prod. Just, quietly, “Don't.”
Her throat tightened. She looked down at her left hand on the railing, where a ring should have rested.
The sea hissed below.
She whispered, “What would you do… if I chose him?”
The words tasted like blood.
Alarik didn’t answer at first.
When he did, it was like a confession whispered at an altar.
“I’d burn for you,” he said. “Quietly.”
Maris closed her eyes.
It was not a plea but a promise.
His truth.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” she whispered.
“I know,” he said again, softer now. “But that doesn’t mean it won’t happen.”
Another wave broke against the Argo’s hull, and she wondered if the ship could feel her heart breaking.
She turned then. Finally looking at him.
There was no fire in his smile. No seduction. Just sorrow and reverence.
“You don’t make it easy,” she breathed.
Her hands trembled as she stepped back — turning to left him standing in the darkness with Nerium in the distance.
-Alarik-
She walked away before he could even respond, before he could breathe the ache from his lungs.
He ran after her, long before reason could tether him. Cosumed by the need to be near her.
Her silhouette moved toward the stern, cast in the glow of Nerium’s cliffs.
"Maris," He called, low and raw.
She barely had time to turn before he took her elbow and spun her to face him. He pulled her in, his gaze daring her to stop him — he kissed her deeply without hesitation.
It offered everything he’d held back, all the words that simmered in silence.
Her hands flew into his hair, tugging just enough to pull a growl from his throat. She kissed him back like a woman drowning, like he was the only breath she trusted. Tongue for tongue, heat for heat. They found each other in every movement, fluent in the language of longing.
Her body pressed against his, tight leathers and warm skin, and he wanted to devour every inch. But it wasn’t about claiming. It wasn’t about power. This was desperation, a passionate prayer.
He needed her to know, that when he said he'd burn for her that he already was.
When they finally pulled apart, they didn’t speak.
They stood in the moonlight, breathless. Her lips were swollen. His hands shook.
He’d kissed her like it was the end of the world.
And now?
He wasn’t sure it hadn’t been.