Chapter 29 #2
“You can still call me that,” I say. “If you want. After tomorrow. Regardless of what happens with the bond.”
“Yeah?” Her voice is soft. Hopeful.
“Yes. It’s yours. You gave it to me before you knew what I was. Before memory or duty or my history complicated things.” I lean back. “It’s the one thing that belongs to now instead of then.”
“I like that,” she says quietly.
“Good.”
The silence that follows is different. Gentler. Like something fragile has settled between us, and we’re both afraid to break it.
Mara shifts on the bed. Pats the space beside her. “The chair looks uncomfortable.”
“It’s adequate.”
“Kael. It’s a terrible chair, and you’re going to spend all night in it being noble and uncomfortable.” She pats the bed again. “There’s room. And the bond—” She stops. “It’ll be easier. For both of us.”
She’s right. The bond pulls less when we’re close. Feels… natural.
I stand. Move to the bed. Sit on the edge, keeping distance between us.
“You can actually sit on the bed, not hover near it like it’s going to bite you.”
“I’m being respectful.”
“You’re being ridiculous.” She tugs my arm. “Come on. We’ve slept in a freaking cave, for God’s sake. This is practically luxury.”
I let her pull me further onto the bed. Settle with my back against the headboard, one leg stretched out, the other bent. Creating space without fully retreating.
Mara shifts closer. Not touching, but near. The bond sighs in my chest. Relief flooding through the damaged connection.
“Better?” she asks.
“Yes.”
We sit in silence. The room is quiet except for the distant hum of the facility’s ventilation. Mountain night pressing against the windows.
“Can I ask you something?” Mara’s voice is cautious.
“Yes.”
“What was she like? Lyria. The real her, not just… not just the person I remind you of or don’t remind you of. The ‘good witch’ everyone seems to idolize.”
The question catches me off guard.
Most people avoid mentioning Lyria. Dance around her absence.
But Mara asks directly. Wants to know.
“She was intelligent,” I say slowly. “A healer.” I pause. “Willing to make impossible decisions, even when the costs were high.”
“Were you happy? With her?”
“Yes. And no.” I consider how to explain. “She made me smile, for a while. Made the burden of rule feel lighter. But we were never… simple. Never just two people who loved each other.”
“Why not?” She looks at me.
“Because Lyria was a spy.” I surprise myself by admitting it.
Mara stiffens, blinks at me. “What?”
“She infiltrated my court with the intent to steal the Heartstone.” Saying the words aloud seems like a betrayal. But it’s also the truth.
“I don’t understand. If she was there to spy, how could she…? How could you…?” Mara shakes her head. “I don’t get it.”
“Because the heart wants what it wants.” I shrug. “And Lyria was never an evil person. She was coerced into what she did. Our enemy, Vaelric, had her brother. He threatened to harm him if she didn’t comply.”
“Shit.” Mara gnaws on her lip. “Shit… that’s freaking… heavy.”
“Heavy.” I nod. “Yes. That is a good word for it.”
“So, Lyria was never this paragon of virtue,” she muses.
“No.”
“But you forgave her.” She looks up at me.
“She was human. She had flaws. Just like the rest of us.” I feel a small pang as I recall the moment I learned of what she’d done. “But deep down, she was good. She cared… enough to die for what she’d done.”
“And that’s what you saw. Not just what she did.”
“Yes,” I acknowledge.
“You’re a pretty good guy, you know that? You must have been a really great king.”
“I’m just a man, Mara.”
“Dragon, actually.” She gives a little smile. Slipping into humor, the way she does when things get too deep.
“Yes, that too.” I agree. “But dragons also feel. Maybe more than others.”
“I can get that.” She nods. “You guys are very… extra.”
My lip twitches. “I suppose you could say that.”
Mara shifts again. Closer now. Her shoulder against my arm. “What would you have been?” she asks abruptly, changing the topic. “If you hadn’t been king. If you could have just been… you.”
No one has ever asked me that.
“I don’t know,” I admit. “I was born to rule. Raised for it. Trained for it. The person I might have been without the crown—” I stop. “I never had the chance to find out.”
“And now?”
“Now I have the chance.” I look down at her. Take in the sweeping forehead and high cheekbones. “If I choose to take it.”
“Do you want to?”
“I think so. But I don’t know what that looks like. Don’t know what person exists beneath it all.”
“Maybe you figure it out as you go.” She shifts, looking up at me. “Maybe you don’t have to know who you are. You just… try things. See what fits.”
“And if nothing fits?”
“Then you make something new.” Her hand finds mine. Fingers curling around it. “That’s what I’ve been doing my whole life. Making it up as I go. It’s messy, and sometimes I fuck up spectacularly, but it’s mine.”
Her hand in mine feels inevitable. Like we’ve done this before. Will do it again.
The bond hums approval. But beneath that—something else. Something that has nothing to do with magic and everything to do with the way she looks at me. The way her thumb traces absent patterns on my palm.
“Mara,” I say quietly.
“Yeah?”
“I need you to understand something.”
“Okay.”
“Whatever happens tomorrow—whether what we felt was real or just compulsion—this matters.” I gesture between us. “This conversation. This moment. It matters apart from magic.”
“I know.”
“Do you?” I turn slightly, facing her fully. “Because I don’t want you to think that if the bond breaks and we feel differently, it means none of this was real. It was real. You are real. What we survived together is real.”
Her eyes are bright. Too bright. “You’re saying goodbye.”
“I’m saying that tomorrow might change everything. And I want you to know—before it does—that knowing you has changed me. Made me want to belong to now instead of mourning then.”
A tear slips down her cheek. She doesn’t wipe it away. “Damn it, K. You can’t just—”
I don’t let her finish.
My hand moves to cup her face. Thumb catching the tear. And then I’m leaning in, and she’s rising to meet me and—
Her lips are soft. Warm. She tastes like mint toothpaste and warm woman. The kiss is gentle at first. Testing. Learning. Her breath ghosts my cheek, and her mouth opens to mine. Sweet. Tender.
Then she makes a small sound in the back of her throat, and everything shifts.
Her hands fist in my shirt. Pulling me closer. I respond without thinking, one hand sliding into her hair, the other wrapping around her. Drawing her against me.
The bond sings. Completion flooding through the damaged connection. Relief so acute it borders on pain.
But beneath that… something else. Something that has nothing to do with magic and everything to do with the way she fits against me. The way her heart beats against my chest. The way her fingers trace the line of my jaw like she’s memorizing the shape of me.
She shifts. Swings a leg over my lap so she’s straddling me. The movement is fluid. Natural. Like we’ve done this before.
My hands slide down her sides. Explore the curve of her waist, her hips. She gasps against my mouth and—
I stop.
Pull back just enough to break the kiss.
“K?” Her voice is breathless. Confused.
“We need to stop.”
“Why?” Her hands are still in my hair. Body still pressed against mine. “I want this. You want this. What’s the problem?”
“The problem is tomorrow.” I force my hands to still. To not pull her closer. “If we do this now—make this choice while the bond is still active—we’ll never know if it was real.”
“It feels pretty real to me.”
“That’s the bond talking.”
“Is it?” Her eyes search mine. “Are you sure? Because I’m pretty sure I’ve wanted to do this since we dragged you away from those Syndicate bastards.”
The confession makes my chest tighten. “Then it will still be true tomorrow. After the bond is broken. When we know for certain.”
“And if it’s not? If afterwards, we wake up and feel nothing?”
“Then at least we didn’t cloud our judgment with this.
” I lift one hand. Track the line of her cheekbone.
“I want you, Mara. But I want you to choose me freely. Not because magic is pushing you toward me. Not because we’re both terrified and seeking comfort.
But because you want me without compulsion. ”
She’s quiet.
Then she nods. Slowly. “That’s really fucking noble of you.”
“I don’t feel noble. I feel like an idiot for stopping this.”
“Good.” She slides off my lap. Settles beside me. “Because if you felt noble, I’d have to punch you.”
Despite everything, I laugh. The sound surprises me.
She grins. “There we go. Thought you’d forgotten how.”
“You’re remarkable.”
“I’m a disaster.”
“Those things aren’t mutually exclusive.”
She laughs. The sound is shaky but genuine. Then she leans her head against my shoulder. “Can we just… stay like this? For tonight?”
“Yes.”
“Even though it’s probably torture?”
“Especially because it’s probably torture.” I shift, making myself more comfortable. Arm around her shoulders. “Tomorrow, we’ll know. Tonight, we have this.”
“One night to figure out if we’re choosing each other or if magic is choosing for us.”
“Yes.”
She’s quiet for a long moment. Then: “For the record? I hope it’s us choosing.”
“So do I.”
We sit in silence. Her head on my shoulder. My arm around her. The bond humming between us—damaged but present.
Tomorrow, it breaks.
Tonight, we have this.
One night to understand what we’re letting go of.
Or what we’re fighting to keep.